Reading His Submissive (book 2 in Restrained Fantasies series)
Sometimes, submission is the ultimate freedom.
I’ve spent my life depending on one person: myself. I’ve learned the hard way other people will only let me down. I’ve worked for everything I have, but thanks to my drug-addicted mother, I’m about to lose the one thing I’ve craved for years. Needing to make some extra cash, I ask my boss at Restrained Fantasies, a Dallas BDSM club, for some extra shifts. Much to my chagrin, Master Carter Burkes is with him, and Carter leaps to my rescue, bound and determined to save me—only I’m not the kind of girl who needs to be saved.
I can’t sit by while Raven, a recurring figure in my fantasies, is in trouble. My job as a detective keeps me busy, but I’m not looking for a relationship, just a sub to assist with a class I’m teaching: Reading Your Submissive. Raven always claimed she wasn’t a member of the lifestyle, so imagine my surprise when I discover a budding submissive inside her. She gets under my skin in ways I can’t fight, but emotions are dangerous. I learned that the hard way. Is getting close to Raven a mistake? Will I destroy her life like I destroyed the life of the only woman I’ve ever loved?
This is book two in the Restrained Fantasies series but can be read as a standalone.
Publisher’s Note: This romance is intended for adults only. It contains elements of danger, suspense, mystery, BDSM, sensual scenes, romance and adult language. If any of these offend you, please do not purchase.
Purchase Links: https://www.amazon.com/Brandi-Evans/e/B004D05W56/
Carter needed a sub, and he needed one now.
In four hours, he was supposed to start a class at Restrained Fantasies, the Dallas BDSM club that was his second home, but forty-five minutes earlier, the sub he’d enlisted to be his teaching subject had called in sick. How was he supposed to give a class on reading subs without a fucking sub?
If he had a little more time, he’d be able to find someone from Restrained Fantasies’ clientele, but time was the one thing he didn’t have. And not having everything planned out ahead of time scraped on his every nerve.
Carter dropped onto the leather desk chair across from one of the club’s co-owners, Brock Michaels. The other man made an interesting contrast to the sleek modern feel of his office. Brock was menace and intimidation that had somehow been fused together to create a living person. Shaved head, tattoos covering most of his upper body, the man oozed bad-boy-biker out the wazoo. He was the kind of man Carter, a detective outside the walls of the club, would pay close attention to if he were skulking around in dark alleys at night.
“Oh, I know who I could ask,” Carter said with a smile, the suggestion more to get a rise out of his friend than being an actual suggestion. “You could always let me use your pretty little sub. Viv looks spectacular in chains.”
Brock glared up from the paperwork scattered across his desk, his expression a few degrees shy of homicidal. “I don’t share Viv with anyone. Ever. And if you want to keep your testicles from being kicked into your throat, you’d do good to remember that.”
Carter fought to keep his grin from spreading and failed miserably. “I know, I know. Viv’s off limits. What about her friend Anne? Do you think she’d be game?”
“Most likely.” The other man leaned back, crossing muscular arms across a chest about as wide as the Grand Canyon. “Anne’s game for almost anything. If she says no, you could always ask Terry. She might like the overtime.”
“Already asked Terry, but she has plans she said she couldn’t get out of.”
Brock opened his mouth to respond, but a knock sounded against his partially open office door, and an angel followed the sound inside. Well, a dark angel anyway. Raven Malek, with her blacker-than-black hair and purple highlights, tattoos running the length of her arms and shoulders, nose and eyebrow piercings, ripped jeans, and a T-shirt with a bleeding rose could never be classified as an angel. But damn, she drew him in with the unstoppable fury of a supermassive black hole.
Emphasis on black.
Raven was one of two bartenders at Restrained Fantasies and, for the past few months, she’d also been an on-again, off-again player in Carter’s jerk-off fantasies. He couldn’t pinpoint precisely when the young woman had snagged his attention, but she had. All five-foot-six, lush and curvy inch of her.
What would her sexy body look like tied open to him?