Blyssful Lies Read Online J.C. Cliff (Blyss Trilogy #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Crime, Dark, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: The Blyss Trilogy Series by J.C. Cliff
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 104011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
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“Let me go!” she hisses as an intense burst of anger bubbles up from her lungs in one last ditch effort to get free. Even though the restraints are soft and pliable, she pulls so hard I think her wrists may bruise. I won’t have to be concerned for long, because in ten short minutes, she’ll be clawing at the cross, begging for some serious kink.

“Tsk, tsk,” I shake my head, speaking in a mocking tone, “you have nowhere to go, love. This is where you belong. This right here is what you were made for...for me.” I watch as Justin quickly gets down on his knees, restraining both of her ankles before she can work her ninja skills on him.

Taking off my suit jacket, I lay it over the back of the sofa and begin methodically rolling up the sleeves of my dress shirt. My eyes zone in on hers as I ask, “Do you remember when we first met, Princess? Remember how I told you I own you? Did you think I was joking when I said I get off on punishing bad girls?” She shakes her head as I pause, scratching the back of my neck in thought. “Either you’re a glutton for punishment or you’re just stupidly brave. I can’t seem to figure out which one it is, but regardless, I’m going to give you a lesson that’ll be made crystal clear by the end of this evening. There will be no doubt left in that pretty little head of yours who your master is and what’s expected of you.”

As soon as Justin has all of her limbs strapped to the cross, he picks up the injectable form of Blyss Jared prepared for me. He walks back to her, then looks to me for further instruction. I nod once at Julianna before commanding, “Left arm, all of it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Julianna shakes her head adamantly as she tries to catch her breath. When Justin approaches her with the Blyss, she squeals, “No! No, please, don’t do this!” and as the needle pierces her skin, she screams at the top of her lungs, “God! No...I’ll be good! I’ll do anything...no!” But it’s too late for her; all of her pleading falls on deaf ears.

She thought I was just trying to scare her when I said I get off on this shit, but now she knows I was telling her the truth. I reach up and begin loosening my silk tie, excitement coursing through my veins. I really didn’t want our first evening to go this way, but she asked for it. I wanted our first outing to go smoothly, calm as a scenic lake on a placid day. I wanted the first time we made love to be slow, seductive, and passionate as hell. Well, it will still be passionate as hell, but I won’t get to savor her the way I planned. By the time I get done with her, I will be too pent up with sexual tension to take my time; it will be quick and dirty. I shake my head in disappointment. Perhaps with a little more time, she will come to realize how much I truly do love her.

I shake myself out of my stupor and refocus on the task at hand. With her injection of Blyss complete, her eyes full of scorn now glare into mine, and my lips curve up in a lazy smile. Casually, I saunter toward her, exuding supremacy and power as I study her. I halt directly in front of her, only inches away from her angered yet trembling form.

Her eyes well with crocodile tears, and they glisten under the spotlights above. “Why so many tears, love?” I reach my hand out, cupping her cheek while my thumb tenderly wipes away a shimmering teardrop from the corner of her eye. False concern skates across my features. “What are you afraid of?” I remove my hand from her face and reach for a stray hair, gently brushing it aside. “All of this was you’re doing, not mine. I hadn’t planned on our evening turning to shit. You’re the one who keeps choosing to buck my authority at every turn.”

She shifts her gaze to the collar of my shirt and fixates on it. She’s trapped with nowhere to go, and I watch as this frightened little kitten tries to shrink back into the cross, escaping the reality of the situation. She’s trying to shut down, but I’m not going to let it happen. As I contemplate how I’m going to proceed, I brush her thick, tousled hair over to one side and begin tenderly massaging the back of her neck with my fingertips. The motion stirs a sweet scent from her hair, the fragrance tempering my anger momentarily. I work out the tense muscles of her neck, until she moans. “Does that feel good, love?”


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