The Dungeon Fantasy Club

by Anya Summers

  She still wasn't convinced she hadn't as she lay with his big body spooned against hers.

  Even now, after so many, her sore, chafed thighs quaked and her belly quivered. How could she want him again? His deep rumbling chuckle sounded as he turned off the alarm and nuzzled his unshaven jaw against the back of her neck. It sent a flurry of sparks resonating straight to her core. How could she want him again?

  He cupped her breasts, toying with her sore nipples that were raw from his attentions.

  "Morning," he mumbled and sucked her earlobe into his mouth, nibbling on it.

  "Morning," she said, her breath expelling in a rush as he ground his morning erection against her rear.

  Christ, the man was potent!

  One hand meandered down over her abdomen, his roughened palm igniting flames in her blood as he sank lower until his fingers strummed over the folds of her pussy. The man had magic in his hands. Those skilled digits could play her pussy with the same aplomb as a chord progression. After their night together, he knew just what strokes, what touches made her tremble and which ones made her scream as she came undone. The way his fingers moved in a syncopated rhythm against her clitoris made her moan and squirm against his cock wedged against her rear. She panted as her body coiled with need.

  She heard the rustle of a condom package being opened, then Bastian parted her thighs further, lifting one up over his leg. He shifted until the head of his cock nudged against her pussy. Delilah whimpered as he entered her with a single penetrating thrust of his pelvis. He felt so good. His thick member buried deep inside her channel. The walls of her pussy clenched around him, attempting to draw him deeper into her womb. Bastian growled in her ear as he rolled his hips, establishing a pace meant to drive her insane.

  He surrounded her with his big body, the hard ridges of his chest firm against her back. From this angle, as he held her close and pumped his cock inside her in a lazy seduction meant to drive her wild, his fingers continued stroking her clitoris like the strings of a guitar. Trapped in the confines of his arms, she arched and writhed, needing the release only he seemed capable of providing her with.

  Bastian's touch, his lovemaking, devastated her. She knew on a deep internal level that after the last two nights, she'd never be the same ever again. Delilah came, her body splintering into a million gold twinkling lights, before she was fully awake. Bastian slammed inside her quivering passage, his cock jolting, spewing his seed into the condom.

  He turned her face toward his and claimed her lips. The intensity of his kiss—the way he focused his full body on making her mindless, and ensuring she knew without a doubt that he was the one doing it—felt like he had branded her. Delilah feared the way her body responded to his but was too far gone to care at the moment. The man had one hell of a mouth on him. He broke the kiss, caressing her face with his hand, a devilish smile hovering over his lips. His bemused expression was all satisfied male Dom.

  "Wear my cuffs tonight at the club." He rubbed his shadow beard along her jaw and she trembled. A part of her wanted those cuffs with a fierceness that stole her breath. She wanted to belong, and not just to anyone, but to him.

  Instinct and self-preservation chose that moment to rear their damn heads. It was too fast. She'd lost too much, and was nowhere near ready to commit to anyone. "No."

  He flinched slightly at her refusal before he recovered, consternation filling his gaze.

  "Why not?"

  "Because I said no," Delilah said, hoping that he would drop it.

  "But that's not a reason. Are you going to honestly tell me that nothing has changed between us?" Bastian held her face between his palms as he studied her reaction.

  "Well, no. I never said that. I just don't want to wear your cuffs." She wished like hell she could avert her eyes, so he wouldn't see the need in them that countered everything she just said. Delilah wanted that belonging, craved it like she craved air to breathe.

  Bastian's gaze hardened, no longer the playful, sexy man he was just moments before. He asked, disgruntled, "Why not? What would be so bad about wearing my cuffs?"

  "I can't. I'm sorry. I wish you'd respect my wishes on this. I don't know entirely what we are, but if there is one thing I am, it's a realist, Bastian. Can you honestly tell me whatever this," she gestured between them, "is going to continue when we go our separate ways after the wedding?"

  "I don't know, but you're not even willing to give it a chance to be something." A mask shuttered over his features, shutting her out, and Delilah felt the loss of his warmth, the loss of the potential, keenly.

  "I didn't say that. Why do we have to put a label on it? Why do I need to wear your cuffs for us to enjoy what we have right here and not try to make it something more that it's not?"

  "So you'd rather we just screw. Got it." He started to back off but her hand on his chest stopped his retreat.

  "Bastian, I'm just not ready to wear them. It has nothing to do with you at all. Please understand that my ex, he used his role as my Dom in a perverted way, not out of the love he professed, which was a lie to begin with, but as a way to control me in every way. I spent four years having him direct my every move, only to discover it had all been a lie. Only to realize the biggest thing I'd lost when I was with him had been myself. I'm sorry, I just can't. I don't know if I will ever be able to wear another Dom's cuffs."

  Feeling the shadow of her own fears and shortcomings hovering like a dark cloud, she withdrew from the bed before he could stop her. Bent on retreating to her room, Delilah moved to where she'd deposited her clothing on the coffee table and began to dress. She'd just fastened her bra and had her dress clutched in her hands when Bastian's arms slid around her middle.

  "I can wait until you're ready. I didn't mean to push. Can I ask one thing of you, though?"

  As if she could refuse him when he was being so understanding.

  "Yes."

  "Do a scene with me tonight at the club, and only me."

  Trying to lighten the mood further, she leaned into him and said, "I thought you'd never ask."

  "I have just the thing," he promised, and nibbled at her neck. "Come shower with me. I promise to wash every nook and cranny."

  "How could I refuse such a gallant offer?" How could she indeed, as he scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom where he proceeded to show her just how clean a body could get.

  Bastian's fingers strummed chords as his band did a run through of their numbers in the ballroom. They had added some covers of popular wedding songs as well, so that there were some dance numbers, some slow ballads, and just for the hell of it, they'd even tossed in the electric slide. While he played, he couldn't get the image of Delilah sprawled naked and writhing underneath him out of his brain.

  She'd been a revelation last night. Bastian couldn't recall ever indulging in one woman to the point of gorging himself on her flesh. And surprisingly enough, he wanted more. Wanted to watch her eyes glaze over as she came, feel her snug pussy clench around his cock as she screamed his name while she climaxed. He felt like the god of sex after last night.

  The perfect nature of their interlude was marred by her refusal to wear his cuffs. But somewhere between the fourth or fifth time he'd been buried balls deep inside her, he'd made the decision that she belonged to him. That he wouldn't stop until she proudly wore his cuffs. He wanted a true Dom and sub relationship with her, with all the bells and whistles. Her refusal had stung. He couldn't lie, he'd expected her to be all on board after the night they'd shared. Maybe all the fame had gone straight to his head. Both heads, actually, since he couldn't remember a woman turning him down for anything. And, in their world, him asking her to wear his cuffs was akin to giving a girl his letter jacket in high school. It was a proclamation to all the other roosters that this little chicky was spoken for. Yes, it was rather territorial and Tarzanish, but he was a guy. There was something rather elemental about staking one's claim.

  Except it was through his need, the yearning she evo
ked, that he'd almost misfired with her again. Although this was all new to him, these feelings she alone seemed to evoke in him, and it terrified the daylights out of him, it was no excuse for being an ass again. He knew that.

  Bastian hit the final chords on Streets of Ember, and there she was in the audience. Her practice with the orchestra players must have ended already. Lust burned its way through his stomach, clawing at him to claim her for the entire world to see. The woman was lovely in her fitted cashmere dress in a burnished copper color that reminded him of the Australian outback. It amplified her lush curves but he wanted to remove the garment, feast on the sumptuous globes of her milky white tits and sink into her softness.

  She made him homesick, which for an unwanted orphan from Australia was a unique sensation—and not for the lavish, overpriced mansion in Malibu, but for the swath of land he'd purchased Down Under. Funny, but he'd bought that plot on a whim after the band earned their first platinum album, longing for a piece of the land in the country of his birth. Except, looking at her, her killer body with her hair upswept into one of those messy topknots, staring at him like he was an edible concoction, made him want to spirit her away from the rest of the world. She created a yearning inside him to build a home on the land that was his birthright, to make something that could be handed down to future generations.

  He'd never even considered this with another woman, never felt the urge to settle down. But for the orphan boy from Perth who never thought he'd want to have any ties or family, she suddenly made him want things, reviving dreams he'd thought had died out almost three decades before.

  She clapped when their music ended, and he did a little salute.

  "Well, now aren't you a vision." Jax stood at the stairs, holding his hand out to help her up.

  Bastian couldn't help the jealousy that surged when she blushed at his buddy's words.

  "Thank you, Jax. Sorry to interrupt, but Bastian asked me to stop by and see if we could make a go of the duet."

  "You're the best interruption we've had all day, right lads?" Jax tossed her way with a flirtatious grin.

  There were grunts of ascension from the rest of the crew. The randy bastards knew she was off limits and were just trying to get a reaction out of him. They knew him better than anyone, so it wasn't a big surprise that when he'd kept missing his mark earlier, they had zeroed in on the cause of his dopey expression like hounds after a fox.

  "How did your practice go?" Bastian not so gently shoved Jax out of the way and pulled her over to center stage.

  "Great. We're ready, even if Solomon, our resident slave driver, wants another run through tomorrow. How was yours?"

  "Same. But I'm the slave driver." He gave her a look from head to toe that said he liked applying that same skill set to every facet of his life.

  A rosy flushed crept up her neck and she replied, "So I noticed."

  Giving her a sardonic grin, he handed her the music. When her fingers brushed against his, electricity sparked between them. She'd wear his cuffs, he'd make damn sure of it.

  "Okay, where do you want me?"

  If that just didn't make him think of a million naughty devious desires. He was in all new territory, this yearning he had to claim her as his, standing on the precipice of falling for her. If mere words made him want to unwrap her dress from her delectable body like she was a late arrival Christmas gift, there was no hope for him.

  "Here's fine." He positioned a microphone near the front of the stage about three feet from his, adjusting it down a few notches so that it fit her smaller height. Why hadn't he noticed before just how small she was? The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Maybe it was partly due to the fact that since they'd met, they had spent more time naked and horizontal than upright.

  He tested the microphone, making sure it was turned on. Then he grabbed a stand for her to place the music on.

  She transformed under his eyes as she studied the words, humming the notes under her breath, from being his every dark fantasy to a premier performer at the top of her game. They'd done a brief overview of the song this morning after their rather lengthy shower.

  "Ready?" He quirked a brow as he settled his acoustic guitar over his shoulder.

  She nodded.

  Bastian signaled Eric, who counted out four beats with his drumsticks before beginning the slow, steady beat. Lachlan had moved from the synthesized keyboard to the baby grand. The rich sound as Lachlan caressed the notes made Bastian smile. And then he strummed his fingers over his strings.

  He started singing, his gaze rapt on her for any changes.

  "Stroke of midnight just a chance

  Strangers meeting love at last

  With a simple look at you I finally knew

  You were the missing piece of my soul."

  And then Delilah's sweet voice joined him on the refrain.

  "Until I met you

  I didn't know what love was

  Right from the start

  You captured my heart

  And with each breath I take

  I promise to forsake all but you

  Until I met you."

  He added some chords as she sang the second verse solo.

  "Now we take a chance to build a love that lasts

  Once we were two but now we're one

  In this time and in this space you are my saving grace."

  "Until I met you

  I didn't know what love was

  Right from the start

  You captured my heart

  And with each breath I take

  I promise to forsake all but you

  Until I met you."

  "With this ring I promise to you

  That from this moment

  And unto my death I will love you."

  "Until I met you

  I didn't know love

  Right from the start

  You captured my heart

  And with each breath I take

  I promise to forsake all but you

  Until I met you."

  By the time they crooned the last word, Bastian was mesmerized. She'd killed it on the first run through. He shot a glance at his band members, who all had this 'holy shit, is she for real?' expression on their faces. Good to know he wasn't the only one flummoxed by her voice. He'd worn a similar expression when they'd met.

  "Mind if we run through that again? I just want to make sure I have it down," Delilah said, rather off the cuff as she studied the sheet music with a contemplative stare on her lovely face.

  "Sure. Before we do, any thoughts?"

  "Well, I do have one."

  "Shoot. I'd like to hear it."

  She nodded. "Okay, what if during the refrain, we didn't start it together, and I came in, say, two beats behind, shadowing you? Then we add the extra two beats at the end of the line 'I promise to forsake,' and then—"

  "We sing the final line together. I like the sound of it. I'm game to try it that way. Guys, did you catch all that? Let's try it Dee's way."

  Tap, tap, tap, tap, and Eric's drums sounded. They performed it with Delilah's suggestion and that did it, she had uncovered the missing piece that transformed the song from merely pretty into memorable. She had an excellent ear, not that he was surprised by her talent in the slightest.

  As a group, they practiced until they had perfected it, which meant both he and Delilah could sing it without the sheet music present. It was a wholly unique experience for him. He'd never been with a woman both professionally and personally. All through his career, he'd been mindful not to mix the two together. He'd never allowed a woman to enter what he considered his sacred space. And yet, with Delilah, he had invited her in, practically laying out a welcoming mat for her to enter his sanctuary. And he'd be buggered if she didn't fit right in.

  Her camaraderie with his band mates, who were all a little stunned and not a little infatuated with the busty beauty, warmed the cockles of his heart. He could envision how it could be between them, the shared understandin
g that each other's careers demanded.

  He made himself a vow that before they left the manor, he would convince her to accept his cuffs, and more importantly, him.

  Chapter 9

  There was a knock on her door, and Delilah's belly fluttered as she approached it. This was the last night the club would be open for business in a semi-normal fashion, since it had already been closed to guests outside those in attendance for the wedding. Tomorrow night, after the rehearsal dinner, Jared and the Doms of the DFC were hosting Declan's bachelor party there. So the rest of the owners had sent another email to club members with instructions that the facilities would be available for use for club members in attendance at the wedding. However, after tonight, patrons needed to be mindful and discreet in their attire. On the morrow there would be press people, members of Declan's various company boards, and other wedding guests not part of the lifestyle arriving, and secrecy was of the utmost importance for the DFC.

  This was fine by Delilah, but Bastian had requested she wear something appropriate for tonight and she'd selected an outfit she'd not had the courage to wear before. With everything, the guilt at denying Bastian's request to accept his cuffs had eaten away at her all day. It had even diminished her pleasure at dinner that evening when she'd met Hunter Clarke, blockbuster movie star, and club member she'd not met before.

  She opened the door and found Bastian leaning against the jamb looking especially bad-ass in black leather pants that rode low over his hips and laced at his crotch. He'd left his chest bare; all that acreage of muscle heading to his victory lines, displaying his tattoos and sculpted abs for her viewing pleasure. The full sleeve was a Celtic tribal piece of artwork that she'd traced intimately with her tongue last night. Then the half sleeve on the opposite arm had a tiger amidst the tribal design, and he'd proven to her that he certainly had the stamina of one.