Love Me, Master Me (The Dungeon Fantasy Club Book 6) Read online

  Love Me, Master Me

  The Dungeon Fantasy Club Book 6

  By

  Anya Summers

  © 2016 Blushing Books® and Anya Summers

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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  Anya Summers

  Love Me, Master Me

  EBook ISBN: 978-1-68259-850-4

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

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  Table of Contents:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  EBook Offer

  Blushing Books Newsletter

  Blushing Books

  Acknowledgements

  It's hard to believe this is the sixth book in the Dungeon Fantasy Club Series. A big, huge thank you to all the readers who have embraced these stories and this series. I am so thankful for each and every one of you for allowing me to do what I love every day—tell stories. Your enthusiasm and excitement mean the world to me.

  This book is for all the women who are awesome just by being who they are, who fly in the face of convention, never truly fitting in with society's definition and belief of how they should look and behave. This one is for all the women who love who they are, and live out loud without pretention or fear. This one is for everyone who has ever been made to feel less than whole; may you know that you are everything, and more worthwhile than you will ever know.

  I need to thank my awesome agent, Donna Bagdasarian, and my team at Blushing Books for helping make this book possible.

  Chapter One

  "I'm taking some time off," Delilah said, praying for patience as she declined the performance offer.

  "But Miss Gregory, we want you for Die Zauberflöte. It's a one-night performance in Cardiff at the end of January." Benjamin Sneademeier's voice came out as a whine. It clobbered her with guilt. Inhaling a deep, steady breath, she knew she couldn't accept it no matter how much she wanted to help him. The timing was off. It wasn't like she hadn't rejected shows before. Delilah wished she could partake in the concert, but she couldn't return to the stage. Not yet. The thought of stepping onto the darkened stage filled her with dread and squelched the air from her lungs.

  How could she sing when she could barely breathe?

  Delilah needed time away to heal, otherwise she'd think of nothing but Ethan's betrayal and parting words. Whoever said words couldn't be used as weapons had lived in an insulated bubble—much like she had, until recently. Because she knew better than most that mere words could slice you open until you were broken. Taking another calming breath, she knew she couldn't back down from her stance, even for a friend.

  "I understand, truly, and I wish I could help you out, but I'm not available until the spring. If you like, we can arrange a show for a later date," she conceded, smoothing a hand over her jeans pant leg.

  "What does Ethan think about your taking time off?"

  Delilah had expected the question. She shouldn't be surprised by it in the least, really. So why did it feel felt like one of her arteries had been ripped open?

  "As he is no longer my manager," or anything else for that matter, she left unsaid, "I couldn't say. I have to let you go, Ben. I will let you know when I'm available."

  Delilah ended the call, frustrated over the conversation, over her life in general, and swore at the guilt gnawing at her over turning Ben down. Really, it had only been one night he'd asked. Except Delilah was heart sore and burned out, and those didn't lend themselves to standing ovation performances. The mere thought of walking onto the stage suffused her very being with despair. She'd known Ben for years and wished she could help him, but right now, she was taking a step back from the stage. She had to, for her sanity, to retrieve the shattered pieces of what was left of her soul.

  Delilah had accepted an offer to perform at a friend's wedding on New Year's Eve, but that
had been before she'd walked in on Ethan and that model, before her world had come apart at the seams. Not to mention, Declan had only asked her to perform a song or two. It also gave her an excuse to leave Paris and get away from the press hounding her every move on the streets of the French capital. After that, she was heading home—to the real one on the shores of Lake Tahoe, and taking a break completely, withdrawing from public life for a time.

  Delilah planned on burrowing into her home and hibernating there until spring. She owed herself the down time, the chance to re-assess if she still wanted to be on stage anymore. Discover if there was still music left inside her. Because right now, it was tainted thanks to Ethan.

  *****

  A crisp snow had fallen sometime in the last twenty-four hours, coating the land in a blanket of white. Delilah had always loved it here in the wilds of Scotland. Out of all the cities and countries she'd toured, this place had always soothed her soul. It was one of the reasons why, when Declan had asked her to perform at his wedding, she'd grabbed the chance. This place was blissfully far, far away from the crowds and the hustling demands of her career. Here she could be herself, whoever the hell that was anymore. For so long she'd been on autopilot, allowing Ethan to guide her, trusting that he had her best interests at heart, when that couldn't have been further from the truth.

  Her sleek black limo parked at the stairs leading to the front entrance of Mullardoch Manor. Delilah waited for the driver, staring through the tinted window up the smooth, gray stone stairs. Declan had been the first Dom to introduce her to the lifestyle more than eight years ago. At twenty-three, and fresh faced in the world of Opera, lonely and more than a little restless, she'd ended up at a BDSM Club in Italy, where she had quite literally stumbled into his arms. He'd never been more than an instructor when she was a newbie sub, he'd inducted her into the lifestyle over a very pleasant and memorable week—at least, it had been memorable for her.

  Delilah admitted, at least to herself, that her heart ached over Declan getting married. Although, in retrospect, it could be due to the stark contrast that Declan had found the one sub he couldn't live without, while Delilah couldn't seem to trust her radar when it came to finding the right Dom. Her emotions were on this helter-skelter etch board because of Ethan. The foundation, the security she thought she had in the insulated bubble of the world she'd created, had been upended, and she no longer knew whom she could trust, whom she could believe in, and more importantly, how she couldn't have seen through all the lies. It made coming to Declan's wedding, performing for it, rather bittersweet, stirring a restless ache and longing in her heart something fierce.

  As for dating; with her career, it was not like she could take out an ad announcing what she was looking for or needed from a Dom. Delilah kept her sexual preferences out of the tabloids, otherwise the press would eat her pristine angel image for breakfast. She'd worked too damn hard to build her reputation.

  Delilah figured that the best course of action regarding men was swearing off them for the time being. That didn't mean she wouldn't do a scene in the club while she was here, but she didn't want any emotional entanglements. Her heart was too raw, too bruised after Ethan's treatment. Until she had her head on straight, she didn't need emotions clouding her already feeble and rather questionable judgement.

  The limo door opened with an efficient swish and a blast of frigid wind, and her driver, Stan McNamara, held out a wrinkled hand to assist her from the vehicle. Delilah graciously accepted his help with a small smile, placing her palm in his—which was surprisingly strong for an older gentleman—and climbed out from the vehicle.

  "I'll get your bags for you, Miss Gregory."

  "Thank you, Stan."

  The great wooden door, emblazoned with Declan's family crest, opened as she approached. Declan, ever the dashing gentleman, stepped out with a welcoming grin on his overtly handsome face. God, did he look good, like he had stepped off the pages of GQ Magazine, with his navy cashmere sweater and black jeans that fitted his tall, muscular form like a second skin. The wind ruffled his dark hair and his electric blue eyes displayed a wealth of friendly camaraderie.

  "Dee, you look lovely as ever." He held his long arms open in greeting as she climbed the stairs.

  Her affection for him was mutual. Delilah stepped into his embrace without hesitation and returned his tight hug with an internal sigh. There was no zing or sexual connotation, just the feeling of comfort and friendship between them. As much as she doubted her instincts lately, in her heart, she knew Declan was someone she could always count on.

  "It's good to see you too," she said as he released her.

  "Come, you must be chilled."

  Declan escorted her inside the hall with a casual arm around her waist. The blessed warmth inside the foyer infused her icy limbs. It was amazing that, with all the padding she had, the cold could still affect her, but it did. She didn't mind the cold, not really. It didn't mean she wanted to stand outside in it though, either.

  "Jared, help the driver get Delilah's luggage while I get her settled with Zoey."

  "Hey, Dee." Jared winked at her as he passed. The man really was too beautiful for his own good, with his tawny auburn, shoulder-length hair and brawny form. Womankind damn near worshiped the ground he walked on, and why not? As well as his underwear model good looks, he always had this carnal expression in his dancing eyes that made a woman, whether sub or not, know he was always ready to try anything. Not to mention, he was one hell of an inventive Dom. There had been a few scenes she'd performed with him a couple years prior, and it was safe to say she'd had trouble walking the next day, they'd been so intense. It was too bad that other than sexual preferences, she and Jared had nothing in common, and had always been more friendly than anything else.

  "Hey yourself, stud," she said, acknowledging him with a warm smile as he headed out the front door to retrieve her things. She almost sighed out loud as she admired his form. Jared had one hell of a fine backside.

  While she might be swearing off entanglements, that didn't mean she didn't enjoy viewing the virile bounty some of the male species presented.

  "Zoey's in the library, waiting for some lunch. How was your flight?" Declan said as he steered her past the stairs to the hallway and lift.

  "It was just fine. I'm so used to traveling that they all tend to blur."

  "I'm sure," Declan said as they stepped into the elevator. "Thanks for doing this, Delilah. I know you've had quite the touring schedule, and I appreciate you taking time out to do this."

  The elevator doors opened onto the second floor and they stepped out.

  "Of course. I'm so happy for you. And I'm taking some time off until this spring, so it's no problem at all."

  "You certainly have earned yourself a respite. It wouldn't have anything to do with you and Ethan splitting up now, would it?"

  Needing the insular haven the manor would provide her with this week, she deflected. "No. I'm overdue, that's all."

  His electric gaze studied her but he didn't press the matter further. "I'm always here, Dee, if you need me. I can't wait for you to meet my Zoey. I think you two will hit it off smashingly well."

  The possessiveness in Declan's voice, the way his deep bass softened and his Scottish burr thickened as he said his fiancée's name, made Delilah know in all of two seconds that he was thoroughly and completely in love. The force and potency of its depth rattled her at her core. Had anyone ever loved her that much?

  She knew the answer to that question.

  No. Not in all her thirty-one years.

  Ethan certainly had not, for all his posturing.

  Her parents loved her, and so did her brother. But it wasn't the same.

  And with her abysmal skills at detecting the liars and the frauds, Delilah wasn't positive she ever would. How awful was that? To know that because of your career and what you did, you had to suspect everyone's motives, unsure of whether you could trust the person or not. And even when you trusted them, the
y couldn't be counted on not to end up in bed with a five foot ten, anorexic model who made you look like an elephant in a dress.

  Delilah was not, nor would she ever be, a size two. At a size fourteen, she was what polite society called voluptuous, and what those not so nice vultures called 'that fat opera star.' She had hips, thighs, and a set of double Ds that, no matter the amount of exercise or how healthy she ate, didn't seem to want to go anywhere. Which, when you were short, at five foot four, tended to make you look even heavier.

  In the past few years, instead of bemoaning her fate at being a bigger girl than what society deemed beautiful, she had fought to love who she was as she was and portray that image on the stage. And for the most part it worked, on stage, at least. There had been cracks in her confidence because of Ethan, but she couldn't lay all the blame for those at his feet. Some had been there long before he arrived, and may never go away. Those cracks made it that much harder to meet the fiancée of a former one-time lover, with her gorgeous, petite frame, and not feel completely self-conscious. Zoey was stunning.

  The casually dressed woman glowed, from the top of her chestnut colored hair falling in soft waves down her back, to the soles of her black knee-high boots. Zoey was petite, maybe an inch or so shorter than Delilah, but surprisingly, Zoey wasn't a stick figure. She did have some curves—granted, not the same size or bulk of Delilah's, but the devil was in the details, which Delilah was supremely grateful for.

  "You must be Delilah. It's so wonderful to finally meet you." Zoey approached her and Delilah wondered whether Declan had mentioned their one-time fling. She'd never say anything about it. And really, in the lifestyle, you were bound to run into old flames here and there—but the last thing she would ever be was cruel.