Read Online To Master and Defend (The Dungeon Fantasy Club Book 2) by Anya Summers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anya Summers
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out of her life. Well, that was too damn bad on her account. He wasn't about to let her go.
"Liar." He hefted her over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, walking to the couch. It was time they got their relationship in order. She screeched, struggling against his hold. He swatted her rear as his arm vised around her legs.
He went to the sofa, pushing his hand between the cushion and arm rest until he found what he was looking for. Thankfully, Declan was the type of Dom who prepared for anything, anywhere, at any time—like needing to discipline a misbehaving sub—and had retro fit every piece of furniture in his home with hidden leather restraints. You just had to know where to look.
"Put me down, you son of a bitch. This isn't funny anymore, you ass," she spat, squirming.
Still holding her, he sat with his wildcat on the couch, and looped the leather cuffs around her wrists, effectively cutting off her escape route. He was going to tan her hide for lying.
*****
"Let me go!" Ophelia uttered each word, punctuating it with force so there was no further misunderstanding between them. She should have slammed the door in his face when he first arrived. What the hell had she been thinking?
In her defense, her sleepy, jet lagged mind had only been able to focus on the beauty of his naked chest and the ripped muscles with a happy trail covering his abdomen. Staring at that tight 'V' of muscles as it disappeared beneath his midnight blue pajama bottoms; slung low around his hips, her brain had clicked off. In its place, the memories from their one night together had surged to the forefront, and the thought of feeling him inside her again had swept aside her common sense. What was it about that part of a man's anatomy that made smart girls dumb? Then he'd given her a kiss, a toe-curling, I-don't-remember-my-name type of kiss, one that shook her soul, making any thought or logical argument ineffective, and she had been lost in her desire, reveling in the feel of him.
And now, she wanted to leave and couldn't. She tested the leather cuffs, yanking on them as fury settled in her body. Why did it surprise her that she found herself restrained in the leather cuffs? It showed just how little she'd been firing on all cylinders of late. It had to be pregnancy brain or something, because normally she wasn't this dense—nor was she stupid, considering she'd graduated magna cum laude. Ophelia should have connected the dots sooner than this considering the forceful, demanding nature of his lovemaking. He overpowered her, made her surrender her will to his desires, and allow him to set the pace of their lovemaking.
He lived in a loft apartment above a BDSM club, for heaven's sake. He was a Dom, he had to be, there was no other explanation that fit him quite so perfectly. It also clarified so much about him. Why he moved with such confidence and ease throughout the world. The way his orders were followed unquestionably at the club that night. The reason she'd turned to him, needing his strength that night, wanting that attention focused on her.
She'd never had a one-night stand before. Ophelia had never craved a man's touch with a desire that bordered on desperation until he'd rescued her like a knight on horseback. It was only him, too, which made her all the more furious with herself. Why couldn't she be physically attracted to someone more suited, less volatile, like one of her fellow colleagues at the university? One heated glance from his hungry amber eyes, and she was willing to throw caution to the wind and submit to whatever he desired.
And after everything, what should have stoked her ire did the complete opposite. Being naked and bound before him thrilled her in a corner of her heart she rarely ever admitted existed. Her body hummed in an anticipation so fierce her body shook with the force.
He sat next to her. His large hands re-positioned her body, turning her over on her belly so that she was face-down, lying across
"Liar." He hefted her over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, walking to the couch. It was time they got their relationship in order. She screeched, struggling against his hold. He swatted her rear as his arm vised around her legs.
He went to the sofa, pushing his hand between the cushion and arm rest until he found what he was looking for. Thankfully, Declan was the type of Dom who prepared for anything, anywhere, at any time—like needing to discipline a misbehaving sub—and had retro fit every piece of furniture in his home with hidden leather restraints. You just had to know where to look.
"Put me down, you son of a bitch. This isn't funny anymore, you ass," she spat, squirming.
Still holding her, he sat with his wildcat on the couch, and looped the leather cuffs around her wrists, effectively cutting off her escape route. He was going to tan her hide for lying.
*****
"Let me go!" Ophelia uttered each word, punctuating it with force so there was no further misunderstanding between them. She should have slammed the door in his face when he first arrived. What the hell had she been thinking?
In her defense, her sleepy, jet lagged mind had only been able to focus on the beauty of his naked chest and the ripped muscles with a happy trail covering his abdomen. Staring at that tight 'V' of muscles as it disappeared beneath his midnight blue pajama bottoms; slung low around his hips, her brain had clicked off. In its place, the memories from their one night together had surged to the forefront, and the thought of feeling him inside her again had swept aside her common sense. What was it about that part of a man's anatomy that made smart girls dumb? Then he'd given her a kiss, a toe-curling, I-don't-remember-my-name type of kiss, one that shook her soul, making any thought or logical argument ineffective, and she had been lost in her desire, reveling in the feel of him.
And now, she wanted to leave and couldn't. She tested the leather cuffs, yanking on them as fury settled in her body. Why did it surprise her that she found herself restrained in the leather cuffs? It showed just how little she'd been firing on all cylinders of late. It had to be pregnancy brain or something, because normally she wasn't this dense—nor was she stupid, considering she'd graduated magna cum laude. Ophelia should have connected the dots sooner than this considering the forceful, demanding nature of his lovemaking. He overpowered her, made her surrender her will to his desires, and allow him to set the pace of their lovemaking.
He lived in a loft apartment above a BDSM club, for heaven's sake. He was a Dom, he had to be, there was no other explanation that fit him quite so perfectly. It also clarified so much about him. Why he moved with such confidence and ease throughout the world. The way his orders were followed unquestionably at the club that night. The reason she'd turned to him, needing his strength that night, wanting that attention focused on her.
She'd never had a one-night stand before. Ophelia had never craved a man's touch with a desire that bordered on desperation until he'd rescued her like a knight on horseback. It was only him, too, which made her all the more furious with herself. Why couldn't she be physically attracted to someone more suited, less volatile, like one of her fellow colleagues at the university? One heated glance from his hungry amber eyes, and she was willing to throw caution to the wind and submit to whatever he desired.
And after everything, what should have stoked her ire did the complete opposite. Being naked and bound before him thrilled her in a corner of her heart she rarely ever admitted existed. Her body hummed in an anticipation so fierce her body shook with the force.
He sat next to her. His large hands re-positioned her body, turning her over on her belly so that she was face-down, lying across
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