“She Said Yes Before She Understood the Question.”
“A Room. A Collar. A Choice.”
“Desire Isn’t Always Gentle.”
“Coming Soon: A Story of Obsession, Control… and the Things We Let Happen in the Dark…”
“Two women. A roadside motel with flickering neon. Rain lashes the windows, but inside—only candlelight, wine-stained lips, and the kind of silence that comes before a storm.
The redhead traces the rim of her glass, her laugh a low hum. The other watches, black hair tousled from the drive, blazer discarded. Between them: an unspoken dare, a painting left unfinished, and a secret that could burn the whole place down.
‘You knew this would happen,’ one whispers. The other doesn’t deny it. The canvas on the bed isn’t the only thing they’re peeling apart tonight.
I was supposed to ask questions.
I was a reporter.
Press badge, art show, polite wine. Nothing I hadn’t done a hundred times before.
But that night… I didn’t ask anything.
I watched her.
Sofia Veyren. Sculptor. Shadow-drenched smile. A woman who stood beside her own broken cathedral like it was a throne she built from sin.
She said one thing to me—just one—and I followed her.
Into her car. Into the storm. Into the motel.
Into the dark.
The room was nothing special. Cheap bed. Thin blanket. Rain crawling down the windows like it was trying to get in.
She was lying beside me.
I told myself it was just for the night. Just shelter. Just warmth.
But something shifted the moment the door clicked shut. The silence grew heavy. The kind of quiet that presses against your skin until you feel like you’re being watched by the air itself.
Her voice was velvet and dusk. “You’re tense,” she said.
I lied. “A little.”
“Let me.”
I didn’t say yes.
I didn’t have to.
She touched me like she already knew the shape of my surrender.
Like she’d waited for this.
Like I had.
“You’ve been asking for this,” she whispered.
And she was right. I just hadn’t known how to say it.
I was no longer asking.
I was offering.
Pain blurred into beauty. Her voice carved praise into my skin. Her hands rewrote me. Every strike, every command, every breath near my ear was a page being torn from the person I’d been before her.
I wanted to cry. Or crawl. Or disappear into her shadow.
And still, I begged:
“More.”
She never needed to raise her voice. She just looked at me and the world bent.
I could run.
I won’t.
Because I still want to be next.
Coming Soon.
Two women.
One motel room.
Candlelight. Control.
A story of surrender that started with a whisper… and never stopped.
The beginning of desire and the trap of intimacy…
A Dance of Dominance and Submission
Meet the Characters
Julie Elara Venn
The Curious Flame
A red-haired journalist chasing an art story—and falling into something much deeper. Soft-spoken, emotionally intense, and quietly craving surrender, Julie finds herself drawn into Sofia’s world before she fully understands the price. She kneels not because she must… but because she wants to.
“She touched me like she already knew the shape of my surrender.”
Sofia Veyren
The Sculptor of Souls
Dark-haired, sharp-eyed, and terrifyingly composed, Sofia is more than an artist—she’s a collector of broken things. With a voice like velvet and eyes like knives, she never forces. She invites. And once you’ve entered her world… there’s no safe word that will get you out.
“You didn’t get me,” she said. “You earned me.”
