Pleasure and pain once again intertwine in the second installment of Sparrow Beckett’s Masters Unleashed series, following Finding Master Right.
Known as a brat in the kink community, Everly can intimidate even the most experienced Dom. Then she meets Ambrose, a dominant who finds her ways amusing. Not only does he charm the pants off her, he makes her crave his mastery.
After being abandoned by his submissive, Ambrose has avoided any serious connections—until he meets Everly, who refuses to be ignored. But just when he thinks he’s found the perfect sub, he finds out she’s an anti-poverty activist with harsh opinions about the rich. Telling her he’s wealthy will ruin everything, but he can’t collar her with a huge lie hanging over them.
Will the best thing that’s ever happened to him walk away when she finds out the truth?
Everly would have come in her panties, if she were still wearing any. No one could look as truly evil as Ambrose did when he had a plan.
She thought about whining, but the bastard would probably like that. Maybe giving him some satisfaction would make him feel more charitable toward her?
He walked her to one of the support columns in the lounge area and backed her against it. “Stay,” he commanded.
Oh God, why did it turn her on so much when he issued commands like she was his pet dog? Probably because she could tell by his expression and the way he held himself that he fully expected her to be an obedient little pet. She waited while he rooted around in his bag, pressing her thighs together to try to give her poor, aching clit some relief.
How did she get herself into this? With a vanilla guy, she just could have said, “Dude, it’s fucking time,” and the guy would do a back handspring then do pretty much anything she asked if it meant he was getting laid. She had a feeling even if she begged Ambrose for relief right now, it wouldn’t divert him from his plan. Masters were so damned stubborn.
Ambrose returned with several silky-looking scarves.
“No, Master, not scarves!” she begged in a mocking tone. “What’s my safeword again? I’m so scared.”
He grumbled something about bratty slaves needing to be taught when to keep their mouths shut, but she stood on her toes and kissed his jaw, then down the side of his neck. He gave an un-Domly purr, and didn’t object when her hand groped at his hard-on. He bit her hard on the neck, and dry humped her against the column, frustrating the hell out of her. She felt a certain amount of satisfaction over the fact that he seemed to be suffering as much as she was.
Desire spiked, and she wondered if she could convince him to forget about fancy bondage shit and just bang her already.
Ambrose spread a staying hand across her upper chest and pulled away from her. “Bad girl. Quit tempting me.”
“But, Master, what kind of slave would I be if I didn’t tempt you?” she simpered up at him, batting her lashes. “I live only to please you.”
He chuckled in spite of himself and shook his head in exasperation. He tied one end of a scarf around her wrist, put it through something above her head, then pulled. Her arm was hauled upward, and he tied the free end to her other wrist. She felt like a sacrifice left for the minotaur. When she looked up to see what he’d looped the scarf through, there was a suspicious-looking O-ring conveniently anchored there. It didn’t seem to serve any other practical purpose.
“You like that? I put that there just for you, for this.” He stepped back and thoroughly eye-fucked her.
She quivered, frowning, ready to start begging.
“Shh. Not much longer, sweet girl.”
He gagged her with the next scarf, tying it behind her head, and used another long one to tie her ribcage against the column, so she was well and truly stuck.
The last length of fabric he shook out and showed to her. “Do you trust me? Can I blindfold you?”
“Can you safeword? Try.”
Her safeword came out garbled but understandable. Ambrose’s wicked grin was the last thing she saw before he covered her eyes and tied the scarf securely.
“Look at what we have here.” He chuckled. “A present! Look at all the pretty ribbons.” Here and there, gentle touches came. Fingers, tongue, the tug of teeth, hands sliding over her skin, small pinches on the ass, plucking at her nipples, tickling the piercing between her legs. It was almost as though he’d hired a team of hands to help out. She widened her stance, silently begging for something more. “Mmm. What a pretty little gift.” His hand went around her throat. “Is this toy mine to play with?”
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Two writers in two countries transform into the super writing duo, Sparrow Beckett, each night after wrangling their housefuls of children and pets. They trade the cape and colorful tights for tattoos and cups of coffee then set out to create a world where readers fall in love with heroes and the women who willingly go to their knees for them. Our books are the product of two kinky minds who don’t take themselves too seriously and the portrayal of realistic, romantic, sometimes heartbreaking BDSM relationships.