12 Masters. Infinite fantasies. Welcome to Blasphemy…
He wants to dominate her senses—and her heart…
Quinton Ross has always been a thrill-seeker—so it’s no surprise that he’s drawn to extremes in the bedroom and at his BDSM club, Blasphemy, where he creates sense-depriving scenarios that blow submissives’ minds. Now if he could just find one who needs the rush as much as him…
When an accident leaves Cassia Locke with a paralyzing fear of the dark, she’ll try anything to get help. Ready to fight, she knows just who to ask for help—the hard-bodied, funny-as-hell Dom she’d always crushed on—and once stood up.
Quinton is shocked and a little leery to see Cassia, but he can’t pass up the chance to dominate the alluring little sub this time. Introducing her to sensory deprivation becomes his new favorite obsession, and watching her fight fear is its own thrill. But when doubt threatens to send her running again, Quinton must find a way to master her senses—and her heart.
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About the Author:
Laura is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over a dozen books in paranormal and contemporary romance. Growing up, Laura’s large extended family believed in the supernatural, and family lore involving angels, ghosts, and evil-eye curses cemented in Laura a life-long fascination with storytelling and all things paranormal. She lives in Maryland with her husband, two daughters, and cute-but-bad dog, and appreciates her view of the Chesapeake Bay every day.
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“Where are you, Cassia?” Master Quinton asked, slowly swaying with her on the crowded dance floor.
“Um…” She swallowed, hard, blind beneath the thickly folded lace. “Yellow, Sir,” she said, feeling weak at the admission.
He kissed her, soft and sweet and approving. “Good girl. Always want you to be honest with me. If it’s too much, squeeze my shoulders three times. Otherwise, no talking.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, knowing that they’d just slipped into a scene without him having to tell her. And that helped tip the scales toward the more positive reactions he’d unleashed. Because her body was a live wire waiting to see what he had in store for her. Why had she teased him again?
Words rumbled into her ear. “There’s a couple right behind you. Almost touching you. The man is dancing behind the woman, and he’s pulled up her skirt.” Cassia’s heart tripped into a sprint. Master Quinton squeezed her ass with one big hand as they danced, his body tight against hers. Other bodies bumped against them, too, against her elbow, her heel, her hip. “She was naked beneath,” he continued, “and her pussy is bare. The man is teasing her, rubbing his fingers over her lips without really hitting her clit. The look on her face is pure torture.”
Each word painted a new stroke of color against the blackness of her eyelids—and over all the most sensitive places of her body. Her nipples. Her neck. Her clit. Cassia shivered as the image Quinton described came to life in her mind’s eye.
Slowly, Master Quinton dragged his tongue up the column of Cass’s neck, adding to her own torment. And then his lips were at her ear again. “He’s fingering her now. Forcing her to keep dancing while he does it.” He swallowed thickly. “Aw, fuck, Cass, he’s making her suck her own wetness off his fingers.”
Cassia moaned at the vivid picture she now had, and at the rough arousal in her Dom’s voice. His lust stoked her own, made her wish that they were the ones doing what he described.
Quinton licked the shell of her ear, unleashing goosebumps all down her neck and shoulders. “He’s taking his cock out now. Lining it up between her legs… Oh, yeah, he just slid into her from behind. Right here on the dance floor.”
A whimper spilled from Cassia as heat roared over her body. Suddenly, she could barely stand the thin fabric of her dress against her skin.
“Mmm, like that idea, do you?” Quinton said, his dirty words a secret the music helped them keep. “Looks like she does too, the way her Dom is taking her right here in the middle of all these people, all of them watching her, touching her. Can you see it, Cassia? Can you see him fucking her?”
She gave a fast nod, almost forgetting not to speak. But, God, she wanted to. She wanted to beg.
For Quinton. For his touch and his tongue and his cock.
“Yeah, I know you can. You can see his cock sliding deep. I bet you can even feel it.”
Jesus, she was going to come. She was going to come from his words alone.
On some level, she knew what he was doing. And she freaking adored him for it, for the way he’d put light in the darkness with just his voice. But she was too invested in the story to think about it. She needed more. She needed it all.
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