Kay Jaybee

Everyone Needs A Bedtime Story

Tag: S&M (Page 1 of 2)

Double Dose of Holiday Reading

I’m away on holiday!! I know- a miracle! I rarely take time off, so when I do, I don’t take technology with me.

While I’m away, I thought I’d leave you with a little something to read- 2 little somethings in fact – an extract from my sex obsessed novella, Wednesday on Thursday and the first chapter from my mega kinky delivery man novella, Not Her Type 

Enjoy!!

Blurb

There are rumours that the coffee guy has “a thing” about words.

Shrugging off her friend’s concern about the way the man in the café stares at her every lunch hour, Wednesday can’t see how his love of words could possibly be hazardous.

The fact is, Wednesday rather enjoys being the centre of an attractive man’s undivided attention. His dark blue eyes alone have provided her with many delicious erotic fantasies, a welcome distraction from the pressures of the real world and a dull job.

It’s totally harmless…

…until there’s an accident with a cup of coffee.

After soaking Wednesday with a hot latte, the coffee guy’s attention suddenly becomes far more enticing—and dangerous.

Drawn into a bizarre world of human behavioural research, where crosswords are used to initiate sexual experiments, Wednesday finds herself driven, not by a desire to further scientific research, but by the need to be rewarded for her hard work by the coffee guy’s captivating research assistant.

A stunning redhead by the name of Thursday…

***

Buy Links

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Wednesday-Thursday-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B01N5SOMT0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1485329803&sr=8-1&keywords=Wednesday+on+Thursday+Kay+Jaybee

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N5SOMT0?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

 

Extract from Wednesday on Thursday

… Wednesday had selected her clothes with more care than usual. She told herself she was wearing her best underwear because it gave her more confidence. It was absolutely not because she’d spent a largely sleepless night dreaming of the coffee guy’s expression as he ran his shrewd gaze over her jet black satin bra with matching knickers.

With one extra button open on her shirt, Wednesday left her flat, raking her hand restlessly through her long chestnut hair. She kept telling herself that he was just a bloke who got off on the power of making her feel sexy. That was perfectly all right by her, because he clearly had no intention of doing anything beyond titillating her imagination.

Wednesday had experienced her fair share of relationships during her twenty-nine years, but no-one had ever managed to arouse her with a single glance before.

‘For goodness sake, woman, you don’t even know his name!’ Even though she kept trying to talk sense into herself, the four hours until lunchtime couldn’t pass fast enough.

By the time her break finally arrived, Wednesday thought her heart was going to thud right through her chest with nervous tension. Walking into the café, she was more than usually aware of the sound of her heels clattering across the wooden floor.

Wednesday forced herself not to look for him, to just queue up for her latte and toasted sandwich as she always did. Even though she managed to prevent herself from obviously surveying the busy room, she covertly hunted for him nonetheless.

He wasn’t there. A sensation of disappointment gripped her. She felt stupid; humiliated even. But only briefly.

There was an envelope on her regular table.

Sitting down with her food and drink, Wednesday gaped at the cream coloured envelope. Her name was written in clear script across its front.

Wednesday took a soothing sip of her drink as she wondered if the coffee guy was hidden nearby. She had an uneasy feeling that, if he was secretly observing her, he’d be getting off on watching her reactions. Struggling to steady her erratic breathing, Wednesday was more than a little aware that her tits were doing their best to burst through their satin holster.

Exhaling slowly, she opened the envelope.

The words had an instant impact on her internal temperature gauge. Wednesday’s body began to alternate between flushing with heat and shivering with cold, as if she was getting a fever and a chill at the same time.

Dear Wednesday,

Forgive my rudeness for not having properly introduced myself before now.

My name is Lucas.

I will be blunt. I find you fascinating, and would like to make love to you. I would like to say my intentions are honourable, but they are not. They are lust-driven, and I feel it only fair you know that from the start.

If you are interested in knowing more, then please come to the address below once you have consumed your toasted sandwich. If you choose not to visit, then I will leave you in peace from this moment forward.

Whatever your decision, I would prevail upon you to keep this correspondence private.

Flat 1.

56 Chambers Way.

Regards,

L x

P.S. I apologise for the coffee incident. I trust I did not damage you. I will make the sincerity of my regret known to you should you decide to be my guest.

Wednesday didn’t finish her lunch.

Her legs had started taking her in the direction of Chambers Way without bothering to ask the rest of her if it was a good idea or not.

She knew the address.

The building, a private block of flats, was only two hundred metres from the office block where Wednesday had been employed as an administration clerk for the past two years.

Knowing she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t find out what was within Flat 1, with her pulse racing, Wednesday hovered outside a dark green front door.

A door that led to Lucas and whatever he planned to do by way of an apology.

Without allowing herself to think about what she was doing, Wednesday knocked twice…

***

Not Her Type

 

Blurb

When Jenny’s regular delivery man, John, reveals that she has become the centre of his sexual dream world, Jenny’s quiet existence is thrown into an arena of desire that she thought she’d long since abandoned. 
One unexpected, head-swimming romp later, and Jenny is left wondering if her courier will ever visit her again – and if he does, will he mention the hot sex they had on her living room floor that Tuesday afternoon, or will he pretend it didn’t happen?
When the following Tuesday arrives and John reappears on Jenny’s doorstep, the scene is set for a continuation of intensely kinky weekly meetings. There’s only one problem: John really, really isn’t Jenny’s type…

Tuesday – It Begins

What the hell am I doing? I’m a good girl; I just don’t do things like this.

A tiny fraction of Jenny’s conscience screamed at her. The remainder of her brain sent her hands on a thorough exploration of the densely haired chest that had unexpectedly appeared from beneath her companion’s polo-shirt. The fact that Jenny had never liked men with hairy chests seemed irrelevant.

Standing in front of her, diving a hand under Jenny’s top, John squeezed her left nipple hard, wonderfully hard, making her squeal with pain-tingling gratification. Removing her shirt at top speed, John freed her breasts from their confinement.

Moving as if on auto-pilot, Jenny’s fingers visited his trousers’ waistband, but in her haste she couldn’t get his belt undone. Rescuing her from her embarrassment with a smile, John mumbled something about it always being difficult to open and undid it himself. Jenny barely heard him as a neat pair of charcoal grey boxers appeared, swiftly followed by—Oh My God—the most beautiful dick she had seen in years, perhaps ever.

As she knelt before him, the voice in Jenny’s head continued its rant, reminding her that she hated giving blowjobs. Since her first experience as a college student, she had neither liked the taste of cock, nor the sensation of being gagged. Now however, working on instincts she never knew she had, Jenny took John deep within her throat. She felt his fingers drag urgently through her knotty, brown hair, raking her scalp as she greedily worked him around her mouth.

Sexy - hands on back

“Hell girl, have you any idea how often I’ve dreamt of you doing this?” John confessed. “Night after night I wank about you, about you holding me in your throat like this.”

Jenny was consumed with a perverse pride as she listened to John’s words—making her wonder if she should admit to the stolen moments she’d spent alone with a silver vibrator and her own filthy imaginings. Imaginings contrary to her normal fantasies; fantasies that often featured him.

His penis felt fantastic in her mouth, but the restless ache in Jenny’s pussy was becoming unbearable, and she pulled away, panting. The instant she let go of his shaft, John tugged her back to her feet and grasped her butt, kneading it in a way that would give her bruises for days to come, while kissing her as if his life depended on it.

Conveniently forgetting that she didn’t like the feel of stubble against her skin, Jenny relished the burn of his unshaven face grazing her, scraping her cheeks as their lips and teeth clashed together.

Her head buzzed, and her nipples were tickled by his chest hairs, and Jenny began to feel as if she were overdosing on desire. She badly wanted to slow everything down but, at the same time, she needed to go faster. She wasn’t far from climax, and the mere idea of their illicit situation was enough to send Jenny to the very edge of orgasm.

Recognizing how close she was, John shoved his customer’s knickers unceremoniously to her ankles. “I want to see you on your hands and knees,” he ordered.

Sinking against the carpet as instructed, Jenny’s breathing snagged as she heard the sharp rip of a condom packet being opened. Seconds later, Jenny found her courier’s thick cock sliding into her from behind. She was about to tell him how fantastically full she felt when John wiped all coherent thought from Jenny’s head by jamming his thumb up her arse.

Nuzzling his mouth against Jenny’s neck, John thrust against her, holding her hips as they frantically moved together. Trembling, Jenny’s knees began to buckle, and her elbows quaked. Seeing she was about to collapse to the floor, John eased out of her body, and flipped her onto her back, before plunging his dick inside her again. She clung onto his tattooed arms (ignoring her lifelong aversion to body art), relishing in the glorious warmth of her orgasm, as he shot his spunk into her naked body.

As soon as their breathing levels returned to normal, John knelt close to Jenny, teasing out the springy curls of her hair as he spoke, “I’m sorry Jen. I don’t like just walking out on you, but I have to go. I’m behind with my rounds.” Jenny watched her courier dress with lightning speed, leaving in a flurry of promises and assurances that he’d return the following week.

The living room seemed so large, so empty once John’s bulky frame had gone. Stunned and disheveled, Jenny stared at the space around her as delayed shock kicked in. How the hell had that happened?

 It had been years since Jenny had had sex. Twelve years, in fact; if you discounted one brief and unsatisfactory encounter that occurred three years ago. That was four thousand, three hundred, and eighty days of a self-imposed embargo after one-too-many broken hearts. She had survived by surrounding herself with friends, reading hundreds of erotica books, and giving in to countless masturbation sessions. But now, out of nowhere, right in the middle of her lounge,  , when she should have been sitting at her little desk checking other peoples’ accounts, she’d been thoroughly and expertly fucked.

Standing perfectly motionless, and very aware of her pulse pounding against her chest in the eerie quiet, Jenny tried to figure out what on earth had just happened. How their usual coffee break, with each of them sitting on either side of her dining table, had developed into a semi-naked romp on the sofa.

John had been in her home for only thirty minutes, and twenty of those had been spent discussing the DVDs that he’d come to deliver, just as he did every Tuesday. Then, he’d said something about how much he enjoyed their weekly chats, how hers was the only home where he was received as a friend, and how he always felt strange leaving her without so much as a hug.

Thinking back, trying to make sense of it all, Jenny thought that perhaps she’d laughed nervously when he’d said that, and told him she’d liked their “putting the world to rights” time as well.

That was when he’d actually hugged her for real, and she’d looked up into his wide, dark brown eyes and, in all of her thirty-three years, she had never felt a twist of lust like the one she felt then. It had burnt into her like some sort of erotic radiation.

How did I not see that coming? How bloody naive have I become? Jenny wondered. Shit, I don’t even know if he’s single…It’s been so long since I had a quick fuck. Too long…Hell, now I want another one, and soon. Damn.

Running upstairs to her bedroom, Jenny stripped off her hastily donned clothes and stared critically into the full-length mirror. Do I look different? No, my arms are still a touch too flabby, my backside a little too big, and my skin too pale.

She felt different though. A bit like the girl she used to be, when she’d been a student. When she’d been braver.

As Jenny carried on staring at her reflection, she allowed her hands to trace the outline of her body, a body that was already infused with the heady aftershocks of being totally seen to. Flashbacks of her past assailed her. Things she’d consigned to the back of her mind and nailed up into a little box, never to be opened again—parts of her life that she had long since given up on.

Losing all concept of time as she stood there, naked, still able to feel the mark of his fingers on her flesh, Jenny shook her head, trying to dismiss the memories that her body’s unscheduled reawakening had brought to the surface. She wondered just how many customers John had seduced with those dangerous eyes. How many other sets of fingertips had tripped lightly over the Japanese-styled characters tattooed on his muscular arms?

“Let’s face it,” she spoke sternly to her reflection, “that was just a one-off. Next week he’ll just want a quick coffee as usual.” Doing her best to pull herself together, Jenny unhooked her wrap from the back of her bedroom door. Heading to the shower, her wits were a tattered mass of contradictions—the elation she felt from the astounding sex was at odds with the very clear proclamation that was niggling at the back of her head. Jenny honey, he just isn’t your type. He isn’t even close!

If you want to know what happens next (and I can promise you one hell of a kinky ride), you can buy Not Her Type in either eBook or paperback form from….

Links-

Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-ebook/dp/B00C8PDEE4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365345730&sr=8-1&keywords=Not+Her+TYpe+kay+jaybee 

Amazon.com – http://www.amazon.com/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-ebook/dp/B00C8PDEE4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365345892&sr=8-1&keywords=Not+Her+Type+kay+jaybee

1001 NightsPress- http://1001nightspress.com/#!/page_KayJaybee

Happy Reading!!

Kay

Dinner With Tess: Domination and Submission in Take Control

Over recent years I have earned a reputation for writing punchy Fem Dom tales, such as The Fifth Floor and Making Him Wait.

In Take Control however, it is the turn of the men to take the upper hand.

Sexy - hands on back

Blurb

Take Control: Stories of Male Domination/Female Submission is a collection of toe curlingly sexy tales of bondage and female submission from the pen of best selling writer Kay Jaybee. From a spankingly delicious Dinner With Tess, to a Staged public sex fantasy, an unforgettable alfresco hosing in Deluged, a kinky scientific Experiment, and the realisation of a long held threesome fantasy in The Necklace, Take Control offers five bite sized stories that will satisfy any lover quality erotica.

Take-Control-Cov-12014

 

Here’s an extract from Dinner With Tess

Tess risked a glance in the stranger’s direction. She felt her pulse quicken anxiously as he noticed her furtive look, and with slow purposeful movements, approached. When he told her his name was Jon, and that he was going to buy her a drink, Tess’s mouth hadn’t been able to find the words to say anything, so he’d simply gone and fetched one anyway.

From that moment, she had been ensnared, hypnotised by Jon’s strength, his quiet authority, and the promise of an undiscovered lust, which seemed to reflect back at her from his deep shining eyes.

Tess had spent the early part of the morning in the kitchen. This was to be the first time Jon introduced her to his friends, and Tess had suggested she cook for them. A roast chicken perhaps? Something warm and welcoming to greet them on their return from the photography club meeting they were attending. Jon had smiled his sexy smile and agreed that a trussed-up bird sounded exactly like something they’d all appreciate. Tess had been thrilled when he congratulated her idea by fucking her unceremoniously against the kitchen door.

She’d never met anyone like him before. Jon seemed consumed by lust, and, even though it had been almost a month since they’d met, Tess still found it hard to believe she was the centre of his attention.

As he was obviously a dominant man, she had been quickly awarded the role of submissive; and to her surprise, and perhaps aided by her natural reticence, had discovered that she rather liked being told how to behave, what to wear, and what to say.

Jon’s laughing voice echoed through the hallway and into the kitchen as Tess went to greet his friends. ‘Here she is!’ Jon’s arm swept around his girlfriend. ‘Tess, meet Jack and Ed, my friends from the club.’

 

‘Hello.’ She spoke clearly, trying to cover her shyness. As she shook their hands, Tess couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable by the way they looked at her. It was as if they were assessing her in some way, and she suddenly felt very aware of the shortness of her denim skirt and the thinness of her white cotton blouse.

‘Most lovely.’ Jack nodded approvingly at Jon.

‘She’ll do well.’ Ed’s eyes x-rayed Tess as he spoke.

A private shiver shot up Tess’s spine. ‘Do well for what?…’

****

If you’d like to find out what happens to Tess, you can buy Take Control from all good e-retailers, including-

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HYI8BHA http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00HYI8BHA

Happy reading,

Kay xx

 

 

 

 

A Perfect Submissive: Welcome to The Fifth Floor

Miss Jess Sanders is back…(and available in paperback and eBook)

Last September I celebrated my thirteenth year of writing erotica. After so long in the business, I decided it was time to give my existing work something of a reboot.

The world has moved on so much in the last decade that stories about DVD and video delivery men seem sadly out of touch. Not only has the technology around us upgraded, but the readership of erotica has shifted, expanded, and adjusted its outlook – and so, as a writer, I felt duty bound to make a few tweaks accordingly.

Not too many changes have been made- my work still has to deliver what you’d expect it to- but a re-edit, a new look, and a general reboot was certainly required.

The challenge facing me is a large scale one. I have written over 200 erotic stories so far- that is one hell of a lot of re-editing! The place to start however, was obvious- The Perfect Submissive Trilogy. This bestselling and award winning- series of novels (plus it’s one off extra novella, The New Room), established me as a writer of all things kinky. I owe it a fresh lick of paint at the very least.

Due to a reformatting of the erotica publishing business, I have regained nearly all the rights to my work, and so, after much deliberation, I decided to publish my erotica myself.

The first of my novels to make its way through the complete re-edit, recover process was The Fifth Floor– the first novel in The Perfect Submissive Trilogy.

Blurb

Hidden behind the respectable façade of the Fables Hotel in Oxfordshire, five specially adapted rooms await visitors to the fifth floor.  Here, Mrs Peters is mistress of an adult entertainment facility pandering to the kinky requirements of its guests.  When she meets Jess Sanders, she recognises the young woman’s potential as a deliciously meek addition to her specialist staff.  All it will take is a little education.

Under the tutelage of dominatrix, Miss Sarah, Jess learns to cope with an erotically demanding training schedule and a truly sexy exercise regime. But will she come to terms with her new career?

Meanwhile, Mrs Peters is temporarily distracted from her intimidating rule over Fable’s fifth floor by artist, Sam Wheeler – who she believes can help her in her mission to transform Jess into the perfect submissive…

***

BUY LINKS

Paperback-

eBook-

***

The Retreat – Book Two of Jess’s adventure is also out now! And Book Three, Knowing Her Place is not too far away…

 

You can buy The Retreat from all good retailers including-

AmazonUK
AmazonUS
AmazonAU
AmazonCA
Barnes&Noble
iBooksUK
iBooksUS
Kobo
Smashwords

Happy reading,

Kay x

 

A Perfect Submissive Style Reboot: Welcome to The Fifth Floor

Miss Jess Sanders is back…(and available in paperback and eBook)

Last September I celebrated my thirteenth year of writing erotica. After so long in the business, I decided it was time to give my existing work something of a reboot.

The world has moved on so much in the last decade that stories about DVD and video delivery men seem sadly out of touch. Not only has the technology around us upgraded, but the readership of erotica has shifted, expanded, and adjusted its outlook – and so, as a writer, I am duty bound to make a few tweaks accordingly.

Not too many changes have been made- my work still has to deliver what you’d expect it to- but a re-edit, a new look, and a general reboot was certainly required.

 

The challenge facing me is a large scale one. I have written over 200 erotic stories so far- that is one hell of a lot of re-editing! The place to start however, was obvious- The Perfect Submissive Trilogy. This bestselling and award winning- series of novels (plus it’s one off extra novella, The New Room), established me as a writer of all things kinky. I owe it a fresh lick of paint at the very least.

 

Due to a reformatting of the erotica publishing business, I have regained nearly all the rights to my work, and so, after much deliberation, I decided to publish my erotica myself – first via the download app Radish, and then as e-books and (or) paperbacks.

The first of my novels to make its way through the complete re-edit, recover, go one (and then off) Radish and e-book process is The Fifth Floor– the first novel in The Perfect Submissive Trilogy.

 

Blurb

Hidden behind the respectable façade of the Fables Hotel in Oxfordshire, five specially adapted rooms await visitors to the fifth floor.  Here, Mrs Peters is mistress of an adult entertainment facility pandering to the kinky requirements of its guests.  When she meets Jess Sanders, she recognises the young woman’s potential as a deliciously meek addition to her specialist staff.  All it will take is a little education.

Under the tutelage of dominatrix, Miss Sarah, Jess learns to cope with an erotically demanding training schedule and a truly sexy exercise regime. But will she come to terms with her new career?

Meanwhile, Mrs Peters is temporarily distracted from her intimidating rule over Fable’s fifth floor by artist, Sam Wheeler – who she believes can help her in her mission to transform Jess into the perfect submissive…

***

With a few expanded scenes, and a hot new look, The Fifth Floor is a novel that is very close to my heart. It was my first full length novel, and if it hadn’t had so much success, then the remainder of the trilogy would never have been written.

I hope you enjoy reading the story of Miss Jess Sanders, Miss Sarah, Mrs Peters and Sam Wheeler as much as I enjoyed writing it.

BUY LINKS

Paperback-

eBook-

***

Happy reading,

Kay x

 

A tasty taster from Wednesday on Thursday

It’s almost a year since I finished writing Wednesday on Thursday– I can’t believe how fast the time has gone. Today I thought I’d share a little from its coffee soaked, word obsessed, pages.

Blurb

There are rumours that the coffee guy has “a thing” about words.

Shrugging off her friend’s concern about the way the man in the café stares at her every lunch hour, Wednesday can’t see how his love of words could possibly be hazardous.

The fact is, Wednesday rather enjoys being the centre of an attractive man’s undivided attention. His dark blue eyes alone have provided her with many delicious erotic fantasies, a welcome distraction from the pressures of the real world and a dull job.

It’s totally harmless…

…until there’s an accident with a cup of coffee.

After soaking Wednesday with a hot latte, the coffee guy’s attention suddenly becomes far more enticing—and dangerous.

Drawn into a bizarre world of human behavioural research, where crosswords are used to initiate sexual experiments, Wednesday finds herself driven, not by a desire to further scientific research, but by the need to be rewarded for her hard work by the coffee guy’s captivating research assistant.

A stunning redhead by the name of Thursday…

***

Buy Links

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Wednesday-Thursday-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B01N5SOMT0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1485329803&sr=8-1&keywords=Wednesday+on+Thursday+Kay+Jaybee

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N5SOMT0?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

 

Extract from Wednesday on Thursday

… Wednesday had selected her clothes with more care than usual. She told herself she was wearing her best underwear because it gave her more confidence. It was absolutely not because she’d spent a largely sleepless night dreaming of the coffee guy’s expression as he ran his shrewd gaze over her jet black satin bra with matching knickers.

With one extra button open on her shirt, Wednesday left her flat, raking her hand restlessly through her long chestnut hair. She kept telling herself that he was just a bloke who got off on the power of making her feel sexy. That was perfectly all right by her, because he clearly had no intention of doing anything beyond titillating her imagination.

Wednesday had experienced her fair share of relationships during her twenty-nine years, but no-one had ever managed to arouse her with a single glance before.

‘For goodness sake, woman, you don’t even know his name!’ Even though she kept trying to talk sense into herself, the four hours until lunchtime couldn’t pass fast enough.

By the time her break finally arrived, Wednesday thought her heart was going to thud right through her chest with nervous tension. Walking into the café, she was more than usually aware of the sound of her heels clattering across the wooden floor.

Wednesday forced herself not to look for him, to just queue up for her latte and toasted sandwich as she always did. Even though she managed to prevent herself from obviously surveying the busy room, she covertly hunted for him nonetheless.

He wasn’t there. A sensation of disappointment gripped her. She felt stupid; humiliated even. But only briefly.

There was an envelope on her regular table.

Sitting down with her food and drink, Wednesday gaped at the cream coloured envelope. Her name was written in clear script across its front.

Wednesday took a soothing sip of her drink as she wondered if the coffee guy was hidden nearby. She had an uneasy feeling that, if he was secretly observing her, he’d be getting off on watching her reactions. Struggling to steady her erratic breathing, Wednesday was more than a little aware that her tits were doing their best to burst through their satin holster.

Exhaling slowly, she opened the envelope.

The words had an instant impact on her internal temperature gauge. Wednesday’s body began to alternate between flushing with heat and shivering with cold, as if she was getting a fever and a chill at the same time.

Dear Wednesday,

Forgive my rudeness for not having properly introduced myself before now.

My name is Lucas.

I will be blunt. I find you fascinating, and would like to make love to you. I would like to say my intentions are honourable, but they are not. They are lust-driven, and I feel it only fair you know that from the start.

If you are interested in knowing more, then please come to the address below once you have consumed your toasted sandwich. If you choose not to visit, then I will leave you in peace from this moment forward.

Whatever your decision, I would prevail upon you to keep this correspondence private.

Flat 1.

56 Chambers Way.

Regards,

L x

P.S. I apologise for the coffee incident. I trust I did not damage you. I will make the sincerity of my regret known to you should you decide to be my guest.

Wednesday didn’t finish her lunch.

Her legs had started taking her in the direction of Chambers Way without bothering to ask the rest of her if it was a good idea or not.

She knew the address.

The building, a private block of flats, was only two hundred metres from the office block where Wednesday had been employed as an administration clerk for the past two years.

Knowing she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t find out what was within Flat 1, with her pulse racing, Wednesday hovered outside a dark green front door.

A door that led to Lucas and whatever he planned to do by way of an apology.

Without allowing herself to think about what she was doing, Wednesday knocked twice…

***

Happy reading,

Kay x

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