Emotionally scarred by an abusive lover, Mia has vowed that no man will ever have power over her again -- indeed, it is now she who has power over them as a wealthy and highly sought after dominatrix. But when she hears about a strange nightclub called Dominion, run by a mysterious figure who's rumored to be a vampire, Mia begins hungering for the absolute power of immortality.
In return for fulfilling her wish, though, Fyodor demands that for one night she submit herself utterly to him, servicing not only him but the five other vampires of his clave as well! And now Mia must face the emotions she's been running from for so long -- her terror of being hurt again, and her deeply buried desire to be mastered.
Trapped at the mercy of six overpoweringly handsome vampires, can Mia find the courage to let down her guard and discover the ecstasy of submitting herself completely to their sexual demands?
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Reviews
5 Angels! "In Absolute Power, Miss Dafoe delineates the true dom who sees the act of submission as beautiful as opposed to one who is only seeking a false sense of power. Only through lessons provided by Fyodor, including a mind blowing menage with all the vampires, can Mia come to terms with the events of her past..." -- Fallen Angel reviews
5 Kisses! "Sierra Dafoe has a talent for writing sexually charged books. All Wrapped Up 2: Absolute Power will have you squirming in your chair during page after page of mind blowing sex..." -- Two Lips Reviews
4 1/2 Stars! "Whew, the sizzling interaction between characters in Absolute Power makes for a tantalizing short story. The sexual sparks between Mia and Fyodor made me want to check my surge protector on my computer." -- Just Erotic Romance Reviews
"Absolute Power breaks all the boundaries sexually from scenes of D/s to multiple partners, yet blends everything into a cohesive, engaging story of sexual discovery. Sierra Dafoe gives us sizzling passion, flaming heat, and incredible heart!" -- Joyfully Reviewed
All Wrapped Up 2: Absolute Power
M/F erotic menage
Publisher: Changeling
Format: eBook
Length: Novella
Order eBook!
Excerpt
Mia didn't know what she'd expected to find behind those guarded doors -- a crypt, maybe, complete with moldering skeletons and coffins and cobwebs. Not this. Definitely not this.
The room looked more like a games room than a crypt. A green-glassed light hung low over a pool table, providing most of the illumination. Bending over it, a man with long, amber-blond hair fired off a shot, sinking the ball neatly. Behind him, on the far side of the room, another man leaned against the wall, his arms folded, watching the shot. Nearby, Mia saw three other men shooting darts.
"Excuse me. I..."
She trailed off as the blond man straightened and turned to her, revealing a broad, tanned torso beneath his leather jacket. Faded jeans, slung low on his narrow hips, displayed a trail of golden hair that ran down his flat, rippled abs from his belly button to disappear beneath the worn denim. Blue eyes -- as blue as a hunting cat's -- peered at her curiously. Mia gulped. He was as surreally gorgeous as Aleksi, as the lot attendant outside. As the four other men in the room, she realized.
God! What were they? They fairly reeked of masculinity; of a raw, predatory hunger that had her cunt throbbing in a wholly instinctive response. Each of them had a presence as potent as any CEO she'd ever met -- and these were men, Mia fancied, who would never deign to abase themselves before her. They'd be far more likely to demand she kneel to them.
For some reason the thought sent a flutter of nervous arousal through her.
But she didn't kneel. Not ever. Not any more. Squaring her shoulders, Mia spoke again. "The guards let me in. I'm looking for Fyodor."
The blond smiled; an expression that conveyed a sort of amused anticipation, like the amoral enjoyment of a cat watching the struggles of the mouse it has caught and will devour when it damn well chooses.
That thought, too, made her nipples tighten.
"Why?" His voice was cool, smoothly timbered. The man behind him -- a lean, brown-haired fellow whose shirt-sleeves were rolled up, revealing powerful forearms, cracked open a beer and handed it to her questioner. He took a swig as he waited for her response, and Mia tried not to stare at the jump and play of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.
"That's not your business," she replied coolly.
He laughed. "Honey, Fyodor's business is my business."
Mia crossed her arms over her leather halter, as much to hide her erect nipples as anything else. From the corner of her eye, she saw the other three men turn away from their darts game to watch. "In that case, I'm sure you know where he is. So tell me."
The man's sapphire eyes flicked to focus past her a half second before Mia heard a voice as deep and rumbling as distant thunder. "He's here."
She could feel him, too -- a wave of pressure like a summer storm against the length of her back, making the hairs on her neck rise. Tension coiled in her belly as his voice vibrated through her, reaching deep into her bones, into the liquescent cradle of her womb. Mia froze, seeming unable to make herself turn to face him. The blond's smile widened into a grin.
Then that low, rumbling voice spoke again. "Turn around."
She did, and found herself staring into eyes that were as black and endless as a midnight sky. A dark fire flickered deep within them, a raw, ceaseless energy that held her mesmerized. He smiled, a small quirk of his lips that drew her attention to his face, to the strong line of his jaw, the coal-black brows, the stern forehead half-hidden by the ebon fall of his thick, shaggy hair.
It brushed his shoulders -- broad, powerful shoulders, encased in soft white silk. His clothing was simple, if elegant; the silk shirt, gaping open slightly to show a heavily-muscled chest dusted with fine black hairs, and black leather pants. They clung to his thighs, revealing taut muscles beneath -- as well as a distinct and mouthwatering bulge at his groin.
He wasn't the tallest of the men in the room -- the one with brown hair was taller -- but still he towered over her, even though she was wearing three-inch heels. In a certain way, he wasn't as handsome as the other men, either. They were all stunning to look at, but Fyodor was darker, sterner, his features both blunt and chiseled as if carved from raw granite. There was something almost elemental about him, something with the natural force of a hurricane or a tsunami that kept her spellbound, her gaze drawn to those harsh, craggy features despite the more conventional appeal of the others. He exuded a ferocious vitality, dominating the entire room merely by walking into it.
Mia had to swallow a mouthful of saliva before she could speak. "I came here to --"
"I know why you came." Brushing by her, he strode to the pool table, taking the cue the blond man handed him and bending to line up a shot. His shirt hung low as he did, giving Mia just a glimpse of his rippled torso before he made his shot. The sight sent another jolt of heat to her core, and she could feel her furred outer lips thickening, her clit swelling. Jesus! She hadn't felt this horny since... since...
Since you left Kyle.
No. No! She'd never enjoyed what he'd done to her. Not ever!
Are you sure?
Luckily, Fyodor straightened just then, sparing her the necessity of answering her own question. "You came," he said in that voice which rolled straight through her, "because you want something. Something you think I can give. Now, I want the answer to Halvar's question." Mia glanced briefly at the grinning, sapphire-eyed man. "Why?"
"I..." Mia fumbled. Why had she come down here? Was she really going to admit to this roomful of men that she'd entertained for even a second the idea that Fyodor was a vampire? He was about as undead as undead could be -- in fact, she'd never met anyone who'd seemed so intensely alive. Even his smallest motion radiated a dark, vibrant energy. "Couldn't we talk about this in private?"
"No."
The flat, dismissive denial reawoke her anger, and Mia stiffened in defiance. "Fine. Someone told me you were a vampire. I came to see if the rumors were true."
"No, you didn't." His black, assessing gaze was distinctly disconcerting. There was no change of expression in them, as if the outrageous possibility she'd just blurted out was too implausible to even deserve a reaction. Almost idly, he bent back over the table and snapped off another shot with an easy, reflexive mastery. "You came," he continued, squatting to squint down the length of the cue, "to see if I could make you one, too."
Mia felt her cheeks flame with mortification. When he stated it that baldly, in that cool, dispassionate tone, it did sound utterly ridiculous. The men around Fyodor chuckled, as if this were an old, familiar joke for them.
Fine. So she'd made an ass out of herself. That didn't mean she had to stand here and be laughed at. Raising her chin, Mia started to turn away, but Fyodor's compelling voice arrested her again. "You still haven't answered Halvar's question."
"What does it matter? You've had your fun."
"That's where you're wrong." Fyodor glanced up at her from under those black, black brows, his heavy features spreading into a wolfish grin. "My fun hasn't even started yet."
For the first time, Mia felt a sudden knifing of fear. Here she was, alone in a room with six massive, powerful men... Tensely, she started backing toward the door, lacing her voice with all the sarcasm she could muster. "I'm afraid my stupidity is going to be all the entertainment you get from me. I'm sorry to have bothered you."
"You haven't." Just like that, the amusement in his eyes was gone. What replaced it was a strange sort of heat, a look that made her breath catch in her throat, stilling her impulse to flee. "In fact," he said, dropping the cue stick the table and closing the distance between them in two long strides, "you haven't even told me your name."
This close, the aura about him was overwhelming. Her skin prickled at his nearness, making her think again of the strange, electric tension before a storm. There was a scent to him, too, something musky and warm that made her think of jungles, of sleek, sensuous tigers hidden deep in their shadows...
"Mia," she breathed. "It's Mia."
Fyodor nodded once, his black gaze resting on her with a sort of probing approval, as if he liked what he saw and was interested to see more. He smiled slightly, the motion of his lips easing the grim line of his jaw. "That's Marcus," he said, jerking his chin at the brown-haired man who'd opened Halvar's beer, then gesturing to the three who'd been playing darts. "Damon, Jude, and Sergei. Halvar, you've met. Now..." He turned his attention back to her, and Mia felt as she had in the club, as if an invisible spotlight had just snapped on her with burning intensity. "Tell me why a nice girl like you would want to be a vampire."
The faintly denigrating tone of his words stung her pride. "I'm not a girl, nice or otherwise. I'm a domme."
"You?" Fyodor snorted. "You're an angry little girl with a whip in her hands."
Dismissively, he turned back to the pool table, his heavy shoulders rolling under the silk shirt, and Mia felt something inside her cry out in protest even as his words flayed her to the core. With one sharp comment, he'd stripped away everything she'd built for herself, every sensation of personal power she'd managed to attain, leaving her quivering in reaction -- and fury. "I don't use whips. And my clients would disagree, I think." She had to bite her tongue from spitting out a few names, just to prove to this snidely superior prick what a two-bit player he really was. "And I don't resort to false, outrageous rumors to build a reputation."
He turned back, holding her gaze steadily. "What makes you think they're false?"
What? For one heart-stopping instant, Mia felt her entire universe lurch. Taking advantage of her momentary paralysis, Fyodor came closer, looming over her, his voice dropping to a cold, almost analytical tone. "And your 'clients' are no more submissives than you are a domme. They're playacting, just like you. A piquant little vacation from their powerbroking lives. Don't even," he cut her off as she opened her mouth to protest. "I've seen it all before, Mia."
He was so close she could feel the heat pouring off his body. Her nipples tingled -- two inches closer and they'd be pressed against his broad chest. Both outraged and almost painfully aroused -- a fact which only increased the fury seething inside her -- Mia spat back, "You don't know the first thing about me."
Fyodor laughed. "No? Tell me, Mistress Mia, what's the first thing you think when you see a man on his knees before you? Don't bother answering. I can tell you, word for word."
"What, then?"
The corner of his mouth lifted in a sneering smile. "You think, 'Worm. Pathetic little worm.' Am I close?"
Shocked into stillness, Mia couldn't reply, couldn't even move as Fyodor lifted his hand, turning the palm outward to trail the backs of his fingers down the softness of her cheek. "A true Dom doesn't despise his -- or her -- submissives, Mia. He cherishes them." His voice dropped to an intimate murmur that she could barely hear over the thundering of her heart. "Do you what the first thing I think is, when a wholehearted submissive goes to her knees before me?"
