[He wakes in a cold sweat. His heart pounding, breathing rapid, beads of sweat on his forehead, in a distance he can hear the police sirens on the street below. Looking around his bedroom, he realizes he's in the same nightmare that never ends. It's been six years now, the anniversary of her death approaching and still no progress made in finding her killer. One of the reasons he left the NYPD was so that he could hunt the bastard down himself. No one had come forward with any information on anything that had happened that night. The only thing he knew was when he walked in their home and saw a trail of blood his whole world ended. That was the day his soul died. His wife, Violet, was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met in his life. The moment he laid eyes on her in the BDSM club, he knew he had to have her. She had dark hair that caressed her silky white shoulders like someone had laid a black velvet cloth on her. Her blue eyes were like the ocean you could just sink into them and be lost. Her smile and laugh were contagious. The minute he saw her his cock stirred to life, no other woman had ever done that to him. He had been a member there for many years and had dominated many women, but her he had to own. The thought of any other man touching her angered him. Her submission to him was so beautiful, she gave him everything and trusted him to no end. How had he repaid that.. by failing her. Running his hand over his head, he slid out of bed and walked to go get him a drink. Now this was his life.. meaningless.. he went to shower and change deciding he needed to take out his feelings. He'd go find him a sub for the evening and come home alone like always. Many females had tried to bind themselves to him offering contracts, but he refused knowing he didn't want what they also offered and that was.. love.]
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