Meet Angela Benson: web designer by day, sorceress with a desperate craving for being dominated at night…
Whoever said Dungeons and Dragons was a teenage boy’s game clearly never met Scott Dennon. With his chiseled cheekbones, flat abs and muscles that ripple under his tailored suit, he’s perfect in every way…except one. For whatever reason, he refuses to acknowledge Angie’s existence as anything other than his best friend’s twin sister. But Angie isn’t the type of woman who gives up easily on what she wants.
Scott won’t grab a fistful of her hair and shove her up against the game table in real life? Fine. She’ll daydream about it. After years of creating elaborate, sexy BDSM fantasies featuring both their characters in various X-rated scenarios, Angie’s become a pro at playing the seductive sorceress to his dominant warrior.
When a bit of magic goes astray, however, and pulls Angie into a make-believe world where her wildest fantasies come to life, all that practice finally gets put to good use.
But how will Scott feel when he finds himself cast in the role of a lifetime, with a willing, wanton sorceress ready to obey his every command?
Read an Excerpt
“It’s my turn now,” Kithriel said, his words hardly discernable above the din of the celebratory roar.
She wasn’t sure why the setting of her fantasy had shifted from the dungeon to the upcoming festival, only that it had.
It hardly mattered. Her goal was only to hold on to this daydream for as long as possible before something else fragmented her bliss and disintegrated the sexy illusion in favor of drab reality.
Kithriel lifted himself off her and knelt by her side. He reached out and untied the silk sash that held her loose-fitting robe closed at the waist, then parted the folds of material on either side of her body.
Angie sucked in a breath. Cool night air scattered over her bare skin, making it clear that, in this fantasy, Gwynnyth hadn’t bothered with undergarments that would only get in the way.
She lifted her shoulders off the ground a few inches, just far enough to allow Kithriel to slip the robe down her arms. He flattened the silky fabric on the ground, where it formed a soft blanket that shielded her flesh from the debris laying on the forest floor.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, reverence clear in his voice.
Angie sucked in a breath. The drums had stopped, she realized, leaving only laughter and chatter in their wake.
She arched her back. Gwynnyth’s full, high breasts heaved with the force of her breathing. Rose-tipped nipples pebbled in the night air.
Angie had imbued her character with her own physical attributes, taking only slight advantage of the opportunity to make a few modifications. Gwynnyth’s breasts were a cup size larger than her own, her waist a couple of sizes slimmer. This was her fantasy, after all. What fun would it be if she couldn’t make a few adjustments?
Kithriel cupped her breasts in his large, masculine palms. She glanced at the contrast between his dusky indigo skin and Gwynnyth’s pale flesh, groaning as he pinched a nipple between thumb and forefinger.
“Strip, warrior, or I’ll do it for you.” She injected more bravado into her voice than she felt. He’d warned her once about having the upper hand. If she knew anything about her Kithriel, it was that he wouldn’t warn her again.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort.”
She licked her suddenly dry lips, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. Damn, but she wanted to defy him. She craved the feel of his palm striking the curve of her ass, punishing her for her disobedience.
Her fingertips wiggled in eager challenge. Arcane words settled, thick and heavy, on her tongue. She had only to speak a brief incantation and the rest of Kithriel’s clothes would be stripped off his body on a puff of wind, leaving him as naked as she was.
His hands skimmed the area just below her breasts, caressing her stomach, dipping lower toward the heat blazing between her legs.
Damn him! He had no intention of removing his clothes.
Angie parted her lips. In an instant Kithriel was upon her, his mouth covering hers, sealing the magical words inside. He tugged at the robe flattened out beneath her and yanked hard. The fabric bunched, shifted. She arched her back, seeking his tongue, needing him to give himself over to the kiss as desperately as she did.
He pulled back a fraction of an inch. She whimpered, the loss of his hot mouth almost too much to bear. Before she could utter a word of protest, something silky slipped between her lips.
She tasted grass and earth. Kithriel slipped his hand beneath her neck to lift her head, and with deft fingers tied the sash of her robe at the base of her skull, quickly and efficiently gagging her.
“I warned you,” he said sweetly, kneeling by her side once again. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.
She growled through the makeshift gag. Lifting her hand, Angie summoned a triad of flames to dance across her fingertips.
Kithriel shook his head. “I know the rules of magic as well as you do. You could certainly scorch me to a crisp, assuming you could speak. As it is, that fire is harmless unless you have an incantation to go with it. A mangled phrase grunted through a silk sash won’t count.”
Scowling, she dismissed the flames. Her hands weren’t bound. She could yank down the stupid gag and strip him anyway.
Having decided to do just that, she slipped her fingers beneath the edge of the sash. All she had to do was pull down and she’d be free to do whatever she wanted.
Kithriel watched her, his head tilted to one side. His fingers trailed a path across her thigh, then combed through the slick curls covering her mound. “Do that, sorceress, and I won’t give you what you crave.”
