Mandy's He-Man Read online

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Mandy’s He-Man

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-195-2

  ©Copyright Donna Gallagher 2012

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright December 2012

  Edited by Amy Parker

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 123 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 5 pages.

  League of Love

  MANDY’S HE-MAN

  Donna Gallagher

  Book two in the League of Love Series

  Can this rugged mountain of a man really protect her, teach her to trust and love again? Or will the choices she’s made in the past destroy her future?

  Having managed to break free from an abusive relationship with a cruel and dominating ex-boyfriend, Australian artist Mandy Magenta—a.k.a. Amanda Smith—should be terrified when she first meets the enormous bulk that is Jonathon ‘JT’ Thomson. He is fierce. Not only is JT the biggest, most muscular man Mandy has ever set eyes on, but he makes a living playing the brutal sport of Rugby League.

  So why, then, does Mandy’s body go into lust overdrive at the mere sight of him? She doesn’t feel a hint of alarm as the colours that exist in her mind—created and inspired by her own emotions and her artistic talents—explode with vibrant and passionate intensity. Could JT be the man to remind her that she is still a sensual, amorous woman, a woman deserving of love and tenderness—and can he protect her from the threats her ex has promised to deliver on?

  Dedication

  Thanks to my family and friends for their continued support and encouragement, especially Pam—your jewellery-making skills inspired Mandy’s creations. Once again, I have to give thanks to the universe for my wonderful editor, Amy—thank you for bringing what was just my dream to reality.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Coke: The Coca-Cola Company

  V8 Ford GT: Ford Motor Company

  He-Man: Mattel, Inc.

  Range Rover: Land Rover

  Chapter One

  Mandy had not been expecting her ex-boyfriend to grab her by the throat, not in such a busy nightclub. When she’d noticed him heading her way, she had tried to hide her instant, mind-numbing terror by standing as tall as her short-statured body would allow. Though she’d had a little too much to drink, she’d tried not to sway as she’d planted her black boot-clad feet firmly on the ground. With her legs spread slightly apart, head up and chin stuck out defiantly, she’d done her best to portray the image of a strong woman, and not that of the vulnerable victim she had been. But the rough feel of his fingers as they’d wrapped around her throat had been something she could not have prepared herself for.

  Mandy, shocked by the suddenness of his attack, feared for her life, believing that he was there to follow through on what had been a constant barrage of threats to kill her. He would do it there and then in this grungy, dark club. The sounds from the heavy metal band would be the last thing she would ever hear. The colours swirling in Mandy’s head were in synch with her terror—sable and claret, violent reds and angry yellows spinning into a kind of black, angry vortex in her mind, making it hard for her to react.

  Mandy always saw colours in her mind, ones that matched her emotions. She had since she was very young, not just the typical ‘black means sad’ and ‘red means mad’, but combinations that could rival any home decorator’s paint charts. Depending on her mood, varying shades, tones and shimmering hues—too many to even describe—splashed and swirled throughout Mandy Magenta’s head. Her mind’s colours, usually a comfort to Mandy, were now doing nothing to help stabilise her emotions. She needed to get a grip on her fear, push through the angry vortex and find some shades of power to give her the courage to fight.

  As Con—her biggest mistake—started dragging her by her throat towards the exit of the club, Mandy used all the strength she could muster to try to slow him down. She dug her heels ineffectively into the club’s sticky carpet, hitting and scratching at the hands gripping her throat, which had delivered so much pain in the past. Her efforts brought no response from her vicious ex, so Mandy began flailing her arms wildly to try to get someone to notice what was happening and intervene.

  Perhaps the doorman will help me? If I could just get his attention, she thought.

  Con leaned towards her and whispered, “Amanda, you’re a bad girl, hiding from me. It has taken up a lot of my time and energy to track you down. I told you what I would do to you if you made me angry again, and you know how much I enjoy our little games. It’s time to play.”

  The familiar, threatening tone had an instant effect. A paralysing ripple of fear travelled through her body, leaving a cold fever in its wake. Mandy was unable to stop the rash of goosebumps from breaking over her skin as a heaviness formed in the pit of her stomach, accompanied by memories of pain and degradation.

  Mandy was now way past frantic. She couldn’t let Con take her out of the building. She had to fight harder.

  I may as well die here, instead of in some back lane, probably more painfully. Fight him—kick, scream! C’mon, girl! she told herself, trying desperately to inspire some extra burst of inner strength to overcome her terror. But as she found the courage to continue her struggle, her efforts were quickly defused.

  Con spat in her face. The shock of this disgusting action and the feel of the sticky glob of wetness dripping down her cheek made her gag, and she stumbled. The pain in her shoulder as Con jerked her upright again was so severe that it was all Mandy could do to stay conscious. As all hope faded, Mandy simply prayed that she would survive another of Con’s brutal attacks.

  Mandy wasn’t sure what happened next. One second she was being choked, terrified for her life, in pain and being dragged away. The next she was standing behind a behemoth of a man and Con was in a heap on the floor.

  She was crying. Big, fat tears rolled uncontrollably down her cheeks. She could not believe she had escaped from Con again. Her throat was painful and sore, but she would live.

  JT had saved her.

  What is he doing here? How could I have missed him in the club earlier?

  The air around her usually seemed to spark when JT was near. Mandy hadn’t thought this club would be the type of place he frequented—not that she really had a clue what type of place JT did like. She loved it there though. Because of the loud music and grungy look and feel of the place, Mandy fitted in—or at least, didn’t stand out.
She knew some of the regulars, fellow stallholders from the local flea markets around Sydney. Markets like Glebe and Paddington, with a trendy and slightly feral feel about them. Places Mandy could sell her art and handmade jewellery, or draw portraits.

  Con had always hated these types of clubs. It was probably another positive in the club’s favour, in Mandy’s opinion. He had preferred chic, trendy clubs full of what she suspected were superficial people just wanting to be seen in the ‘right crowd’. In fact, the more Mandy thought about her relationship with Con, the more she couldn’t understand why he had even been interested in her at all. Mandy was not the ‘in crowd’.

  None of this thinking answered her original question, though.

  What was JT doing there? Should she check and make sure that he hadn’t killed Con?

  Not that she was worried for her ex. It was more that Mandy knew that Brodie, her neighbour’s boyfriend, would be pretty pissed off at her if he lost his Sydney Jets teammate to a jail cell.

  Everything was going to be okay!

  The bouncer had finally joined them and was escorting a bewildered Con out. The bouncer had probably taken JT’s side in the scuffle because he looked way too big to fight. Mandy wished she could stop crying. It was embarrassing, and she hated feeling like a victim, but she had been fighting this battle with Con for so long and, up until this minute, she had been losing. So far, her life in Sydney had not reached the dizzying heights she had dreamed it would.

  JT had been surprised to see Mandy at the rough inner city club. But it was a nice surprise. It had given him something to do while the boys partied hard—watch her…

  He had accompanied the younger Jets players on their night out to celebrate halfback Mitch’s twenty-first. He thought it was important to watch over the boys when they were in celebration mode. He could share their fun, but if anything even threatened to get out of hand, he could ‘cut it off at the pass’, so to speak.

  Finding Mandy at the club had been an unexpected bonus. JT had been psyching himself up to go and speak to her, checking the lay of the land to see who she was with before making his move, when the drama had erupted. He had been trying to figure out just why the idea that Mandy might have a boyfriend seemed so distasteful to him when he’d picked up the troublemaker on his radar.

  JT was a man with an instinct for being aware of his surroundings. He had noted the aggressive look on the guy’s face as he had entered the club. But nothing could have shocked him more than seeing him grab Mandy by the throat.

  At that point JT had gone into overdrive. Already angry, he had charged to Mandy’s aid, and had nearly lost it completely when he’d seen the dickhead spit on her.

  On reflection, that guy was lucky he hadn’t copped a fist through his angry, worthless head.

  Instead, JT had grabbed the guy’s wrist and had twisted it so hard it could have snapped the bone. He’d shepherded Mandy safely behind him after he’d pushed her assailant to the ground.

  Deep down, JT had hoped the idiot would get up again, so he’d have an excuse to inflict some more pain on the guy’s worthless arse. He deserved it for laying into a woman—and not just because it was Mandy.

  But the doorman had stepped in and escorted the guy away. He had gone quietly, hadn’t uttered a syllable and had avoided eye contact with both JT and Mandy. Coward.

  Gathering Mandy up in his arms and carrying her back to the Jets group was the only possible course of action in JT’s mind. Her safety was paramount, and holding on to her also seemed an effective way of reining in his intense anger.

  Chapter Two

  His thick, muscular arm was warm under her thighs. He had gently encircled her waist with his other arm. He was carrying her towards the bar. Mandy was glad to be moving away from the little mob that had built to watch the ugly proceedings, and she dabbed at her probably smudged makeup with the hanky JT had thoughtfully given her.

  When they reached the bar, Mandy finally got some answers to her questions. JT was there at the club with friends. Although JT appeared to be sober, his younger friends were all happily intoxicated, definitely intent on enjoying themselves. There were also quite a number of women surrounding the men, playing up to them and receiving plenty of attention in return.

  The males of the group began cheering and backslapping JT as he rejoined them, calling him a hero. To Mandy, JT looked uncomfortable with all the fuss and attention. So, not only did he seem to not fit in at the club, he also appeared a little out of place among the half-dozen loud young men.

  “Let me buy you a drink,” he said with calm authority. “I think you could use one. And then you can fill me in on what was going on with that arsehole.”

  To anyone looking on, it probably would have been quite an amusing sight, since JT hadn’t actually put Mandy down yet. And, apparently, was not in any hurry to do so. Oddly enough, Mandy was becoming aware that she wasn’t in any real hurry for him to release her, either. She was enjoying the feel of JT’s warm, strong body as it enveloped her. It was as if his touch was bringing her back to life.

  Con had taken a toll on Mandy with his cruel ways. For the first time in months, she actually felt safe. She was just going to hold on to that feeling for a little while longer and try not to think about the fact that Con would be even angrier with her now.

  “Thanks, I think you might be right. I need a Scotch. And JT, thanks for what you did back there. The arsehole was, in fact, my ex, a huge mistake that I’ve been trying to erase for a while now. He… Con… My ex just doesn’t like the thought of me moving on and isn’t averse to using his fists to show me.”

  As Mandy admitted to her past mistake she looked JT right in the eyes, trying to portray a look of confidence so he wouldn’t think her the weak, pathetic type, regularly in need of rescue. For some reason, Mandy felt that JT’s opinion of her mattered.

  “Dickhead needed to be taught a lesson,” growled JT. “There is no excuse for manhandling a woman. Glad I was here, just wish I’d moved faster.” JT met her gaze, but to Mandy’s relief showed no signs of judgement or condemnation.

  The end of the night turned out to be a whole lot more fun than the beginning had been. Mandy soon figured out that JT was acting as a babysitter, of sorts, to the group of younger team members.

  “Bodyguard to all,” she whispered dreamily as she sipped her Scotch and Coke, about the sixth passed her way by the happy and friendly group of men from the local rugby league side. Mandy had only managed to completely finish one of the drinks so far. As a new drink arrived, JT would swiftly remove the old drink from her, empty or not.

  If she had managed to drink all the alcohol handed to her, Mandy knew she wouldn’t have been able to walk. Not that this was really a problem yet, as she was still sitting comfortably on the very large lap she was becoming accustomed to. Mandy was trying not to wiggle, too much, on the incredibly hard ridge that was pressed up against her bottom, but she could not ignore the fact that it was exciting her, making her want things she hadn’t wanted in a long time, such as the feel of that hardness buried deep inside her.

  * * * *

  As all good things must come to an end, so did her night. While the young Jets players were all being safely poured into taxi cabs by their very protective teammate, Mandy tried to flag down a taxi of her own. But JT was having none of it, and insisted that he would drive her home. He seemed convinced that if he didn’t, Caitlin would have his hide. Mandy was amused at the thought of her downstairs neighbour skinning this gigantic man.

  Wow, the skin would be huge. You could reupholster a houseful of furniture with a hide as big as that, she thought, and couldn’t stop the giggle that was building in her chest from escaping. JT raised an eyebrow in her direction and smiled.

  As Mandy walked hand in hand with JT, varying tones of soft blues and calm greens flowed through her mind. The colours travelled slowly, lazily, like a meandering river, indicating her relaxed and happily subdued state of mind, despite what had happened earlier
in the evening.

  JT’s big, black V8 Ford GT reminded Mandy of a panther waiting to pounce. The soft leather seat she sank into was warm. With the seat-warmer and interior heating turned on, she was having trouble staying awake. It wasn’t long until the excitement of the night took its toll and Mandy drifted off.

  Chapter Three

  JT carried Mandy’s limp, little, velvet-clad body up the stairwell of the building that was so familiar to him. She had looked so peacefully asleep in the passenger seat of his car that he’d decided not to wake her. But when he reached the door to her flat he realised his mental picture of gently delivering her sleeping form into her own bed wasn’t logistically possible. He had to wake her to get the key to her door.

  Mandy had fitted so comfortably in his arms and on his lap earlier tonight, and now, as he held her sleeping form in his arms, he was still trying to decide what to do. He’d expected her to struggle from his grasp the minute the shock from the attack had subsided. She’d always had the air of a feisty little scrap of a thing, dressed in so much black and with all that war paint on her face. War paint that was a little smudged now, JT noticed with a smile. Something about Mandy, the handful of times he’d been around her, always brought out a protective instinct in him that he found hard to understand.

  He’d been pleased that the boys had been reasonably well behaved—not giving him a hard time about her, just happily buying Mandy one drink after another. JT had thought that maybe his young team mates were plying her with alcohol for his benefit. She’d seemed to struggle with the frequency of drinks, so he had started removing the old glass from her hand as the new drink had appeared, whether she’d finished or not. The little smiles of gratitude she’d given him each time had been priceless.