His Eliza (MF)

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 45,909
1 Ratings (2.0)
[Siren Classic: Erotic Contemporary Romance, light consensual BDSM, HEA]
Eliza Parker vowed she’d forget Andrew Dawson after he let their relationship unravel for the sake of his career, but she’s still haunted by his memory, even ten years later. For Andrew, no other woman has ever come close, and when they meet again, he is determined to reclaim her. But he fears she may be lost to him forever once he discovers what happened to her after they parted all those years ago.
Eliza suffered for a long time in an abusive marriage that only ended a few months earlier. Seeing Andrew confuses her, and although she tries to push him away, he refuses to leave her side. Filled with shame and embarrassment, Eliza struggles to keep her web of secrets well concealed, but Andrew won’t stop pushing for answers. And the more he learns, the more he fears for her. It becomes clear that she is broken, and when her demons begin to overtake her, Andrew can only hope that his love and strength will be enough to restore her happiness and repair her heart.
A Siren Erotic Romance
His Eliza (MF)
1 Ratings (2.0)

His Eliza (MF)

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 45,909
1 Ratings (2.0)
In Bookshelf
In Cart
In Wish List
Available formats
Cover Art by Harris Channing




Eliza Parker was not fond of doing the dishes, but she had put it off for far too long. As stubborn and domestically disinclined as she was, even she knew that it was about time she got started. She had filled up the kitchen sink, watched as the suds grew into thick, towering mounds, swept her fingers with idle procrastination through the warm, soapy water for a number of minutes, and then, with a sigh, finally picked up a sponge. Steeling herself against the impending tedium, the expression on her face grew grim as she reached out to her side to grab a plate—merely one dirty dish out of a prodigious looking stack that would take an eternity to finish.

She heard a creak sound on the staircase, followed by a long, loud groan in the pipes, and she shook her head at the endless rumbling that was to be heard in the house, a condition that she liked to think of as the house’s own grumbling dissatisfaction with the dilapidated state it was in. But it would be all right, she reasoned as she immersed her hands in the water—it would only be another three months here.

The plate she was holding slipped from her grasp and dropped to the bottom of the sink when she felt a squeeze at her waist. She jumped and let out a squeal—a brief palpitation fluttering through her heart before logic returned to her and she realized that she wasn’t in any danger.

She threw her head back, her eyes glittering with a contagious kind of laughter, and smiled at the man who was standing behind her. He hadn’t taken his hands off her waist, and he moved closer, pressing his chest against her back and burying his head in the delicate curve of her neck. He hummed contentedly into her shoulder as he breathed in the feminine scent that was so particular to that spot, and a delicious shiver raced across her skin when he lightly brushed his lips along her neck.

“Why, Mr. Andrew Dawson, whatever are you doing home?” she asked, letting her voice slide into a playful Southern drawl. “You weren’t due back for at least another two hours.”

Andrew spun her around and smiled down at her, his wide brown eyes reflecting the soft light that glowed from the ceiling lamp. It was dim in the house, just as it always was at night, a condition that owed itself to the low-quality light fixtures in the rather shabby house that they were renting. Normally, it was a source of annoyance for Eliza, but just then she found herself in love with the dreamlike atmosphere it created, with the romance it seemed to foster at that particular moment.

“I know,” he said, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a devious smile. “I snuck out early.”

Eliza felt her shoulders relax as the low, rough tones of his voice met her ears. It had been so quiet in the house that day, and she had hungered for the sound of his voice. Craved it more than she could bear, and more than her pride would permit her to confess.

She shook her head. “But, why? They’ll be upset with you.”

She looked up at him. His cheeks were ruddy, just as they always were when he spent most of the day outside, his face bare to the whipping autumn winds of rural Minnesota. Drawing her eyes down to his jaw, she noticed how thick his beard was getting, and how thick it would keep getting as he continued to put off shaving it due to his sixteen hour workdays and a sheer lack of free time.

“All the senior managers were called to a meeting,” he replied, grabbing her face in his hands and pressing his forehead against hers. He exhaled a happy sigh at the contact, rubbing his nose sweetly against the tip of her own. “Nobody will know. And I needed to come home. I just couldn’t be there any longer tonight.”

Eliza let her eyes drift closed, lulled by his windswept scent and the musky odor of the outdoors.

It was windy out that night, windier than usual, and Eliza let her mind drift along with the bright, crisp autumn leaves on the trees outside as they were rustled by the stiff winds. The sound stood out to her at the moment as the richest symphony, and she wondered at the paradox, at how it was possible that a collection of delicate, paper-thin leaves could become so beautifully thunderous, so wonderfully deafening and all-encompassing. She almost wanted to pull Andrew outside and stand beneath the roar.

“Where are you going?” she asked, reaching out an imploring hand as he pulled away from her and walked out of the kitchen. She followed him, watching as he slung his hand on the banister and trotted up the stairs. “Don’t go. You’re not going to bed already, are you?”

He paused on the landing and looked down at her, flashing her a consolatory smile. “I’m not going anywhere, love. I’ll be right back. Wait for me in the kitchen.”

Hugging her arms around her chest, she paced back to the sink and looked down into the water. The soap was starting to dissipate, and the large sudsy mountains were shrinking away to nothing. She threw a wary glance at the dirty dishes before stealing away and wandering toward the window, but the glare from the lights inside prevented her from gazing out at the restless trees like she wanted to.

She spun around when she heard Andrew race back down the stairs and looked at him curiously as he stepped into the kitchen. “What were you up to?” she asked, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes in playful suspicion.

“Just putting on some music,” he said with an air of self-satisfaction as he made his way over to her.

“What music—” Eliza asked, stopping herself short as Sinatra’s telltale smooth voice drifted out of the speakers they had in their bedroom upstairs. She smiled as the music started to fill up the room.

“Come dance with me,” Andrew said as he swept an arm around her waist and grabbed one of her hands in his. He pressed her close, pulling her along to the slow crawl of Moon River.

Eliza laughed. “Why are we dancing?” she asked, letting out a delighted gasp as he turned her into a dip and held her there, staring at her with a mischievous look that she couldn’t help but think was undercut by a soft kind of sadness.

“Why shouldn’t we be dancing?” Andrew rejoined, pulling her back up and swaying with her once more.

Eliza let her head fall against his chest as they continued dancing to the slow, lazy melody. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the back of his neck, unable to stop herself from feeling that there was something terribly, poignantly heartbreaking about this all, about this one night, the first night in weeks, when Andrew had come home without having to head straight to bed. She wanted to let herself slide into the perfect beauty of Andrew’s romantic gesture, but for some reason she wasn’t quite able to.

Andrew pressed his mouth close against her ear and sang softly. “‘Old dream maker, you heart-breaker, wherever you’re going, I’m going your way…’”

Eliza’s throat clutched as she held back a sob. “Andrew…” she whispered.

He held her tighter, sliding his hand up from her waist to the back of her neck and pressing her head closer against him. “I know, love.”

“It’s been so hard.”

Andrew pressed his lips against the top of her head. He was holding her fiercely now, and rocking her in a rhythm that was straying further and further away from the song. “I know,” he whispered.

“How can we keep doing this?”

“It’s just another couple of years, Eliza. We can do it. I know we can.”

She swallowed and looked up at him, her eyes wide and shining. “Two years seems like a long time,” she said, unable to control the shaky edge in her voice. “And right now, it seems like longer than I’ll be able to handle.”




“Are you going to be a good girl and do what I say?” he asked, looking her in the eye.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. She swallowed. “Everything you say.”

“That’s my girl,” he said smiling, sweeping his thumb across her mouth. He took a step back and looked her up and down, his face drawn taut with the hard edge of anticipation. “Take your pants off. I want your cunt bare.”

Eliza hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her pajama bottoms and slid them to the floor, stepping out of them and leaning back against the counter. Squeezing her thighs together, she tried to cope with the fact that his groin was no longer pressed against hers, that he was standing a few steps away from her, looking at her pussy—looking but not touching.

“Don’t press your legs together like that,” he demanded, reaching out a hand and smacking the side of her hip. “Stand with them apart. And the shirt comes off.”

Casting her eyes to the ground, Eliza slowly pulled her shirt over her head and then, gritting her teeth together, inched her feet farther and farther apart until she knew he would be satisfied. Her slit was soaked, and she squeezed her eyes shut when she felt a drop fall from her pussy onto the floor.

Andrew made a low sound deep in his throat. When she looked up at him, he was ripping his belt out of his jeans and stripping his pants and boxers down to the floor.

Eliza traced her eyes down the hard planes of his abdomen and finally, timidly, rested on his manhood. His cock was rock hard, jutting out before him, the smooth, satiny skin stretched taut. Staring down at his engorged shaft, she found herself unable to catch her breath. Her blood was coursing with need, and when he took a step toward her, she couldn’t hold back a whimper.

He swept his thumb over her nipple, the touch instantly sending a spark of pleasure-filled pain through her body. He cupped her small, upturned breasts in his hands, and although his touch was feather-light, Eliza’s breasts felt so swollen and tender that she had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to endure the sensation.

“I want you to turn around,” he said, grabbing her hips in his hands and turning her to face the counter. He pressed down on her back until her elbows were resting on the countertop, and she cried out when her swollen nipples skimmed the cold hard granite surface. Her body was seizing up at the intensity of sensations, and she bucked her hips backward, whimpering when she felt the backs of her thighs graze the smooth, mushroomed head of Andrew’s cock.

“Patience, girl,” Andrew rumbled. He swept his hand over her ass, tracing his fingers lower and lower until he was stroking her inner thighs—her delicate, pink folds just inches away from his touch.

“Let me look at you,” he said, kneeling down and using his thumbs to spread apart her slit. Eliza jerked in surprise, choking out a cry at the feeling of his touch on her pussy. “I can see the cream spilling out of your cunt. You’re just begging for it, aren’t you?”

Eliza shivered as she felt his breath against her exposed flesh. She wanted to feel his mouth there, wanted to feel him press his tongue against her clit and slide it into her dripping wet orifice. Digging her fingernails into her palms, she waited for it to come, waited for him to press his mouth closer and send her over the edge. But he was taking a long time, and just as she was about to inch her hips back closer toward his face, he stood back up and gripped her waist hard in one of his hands.

Eliza screamed when she felt the sharp slap against her cunt. She jerked her arms outward in shock, knocking over the vase beside her and scattering the lilies across the countertop. The quick, hard contact of his open palm against her sex left her feeling hot and raw between her legs. She tried to catch her breath, but she nearly choked on her own saliva when he delivered a second slap.

Andrew leaned forward until his mouth was pressed against her ear. “Count them out,” he demanded quietly, pausing for a brief moment to smooth his fingers over her ass before returning to task.

Eliza choked out a sob and buried her head into her arms as Andrew delivered the next blow. She swallowed and forced the word out, forced herself to do as he said.


She bit down on her lip, the stinging pain blending with an aching pleasure that made her shake with need.


She wanted him to stop almost as badly as she wanted him to never stop. The barrage of pain was so hot, so deliciously raw and yet so overwhelmingly powerful that she wasn’t sure if she wanted more, or if she could even handle more. It took her a few moments to realize that she was sobbing, that tears were streaming down her cheeks.


She was trembling in anticipation of the next blow, trying her best to steel herself against the next explosion of contact against her pussy. But Andrew was taking a long time, longer than he had in between the previous slaps. She wasn’t sure what he was going to do, and she was so frantic with fearful curiosity that she would’ve turned her head around to look had she not known that such an act would incur an even harsher punishment.

She stiffened when she felt him lean over her, but his tender touch along the curve of her neck relaxed her instantly, made her know that he was through, that there weren’t any more slaps coming.

“Good, Eliza,” Andrew whispered, still stroking his fingertips lightly along her neck and shoulders. “Good girl. You did just as I asked. And good girls get rewarded.”

“Th-they do?” Eliza stammered, her breath still coming out in hitches.

Andrew let out a low, throaty chuckle. “Oh yes,” he assured her. “They certainly do.”

A raw, hoarse cry sounded from the back of Eliza’s throat when Andrew slid his middle finger all the way inside her cunt. Her whole body bucked uncontrollably, and the tears sprang from her eyes anew. He pumped his finger in and out of her pussy, hard and fast, no preamble, and the influx of pleasure was so great that she couldn’t process it. She felt like she was drowning in the waves of sharp heat that were coursing through her sex. It was too much. It was far too much.

“Easy, my girl,” Andrew hushed. He was still thrusting his finger inside of her, pulling all the way out and then sliding back through the tight, wet opening every time. “You’re going to have to show me that you can handle more, because there’s a lot more coming than just my finger.”

Eliza could feel her cunt clamping in desperation around his finger. God, she wanted more. She wanted to feel his cock push through her opening and stretch her inner walls. She wanted to feel his thick shaft work in and out of her pussy.

“I can handle it,” she said, panting, her fingers clawing at the granite counter. “Please, give me more.”

Andrew chuckled, pumping his finger even harder inside her cunt. “All right, baby, then let’s give you more.”

Read more