Faster. More. A handful of strong swats and her voice rose. Her stomach muscles under his knuckles turned to rock. Another swat and yank and she broke into a violent climax. Her shrieks corresponded to the forceful clenches of her vagina around his cock like a giant sucking device. Hearing her come, feeling her pussy try to milk him, he couldn"t fight it any longer. He released his control and gave the tire a series of short, hard yanks. His climax roared through him, ripping from his balls into his cock and out in hot blasts of pure sensation.
With a groan, he rocked the swing gently, giving her a last few spasms—and when the hot walls of her vagina rippled around him, he wanted to take her all over again.
He ran his hands over her body, pleased at the soft, moist curves. The fragrance of her light feminine sweat mingled with the heavier scent of sex. He leaned forward, letting his weight down on her. Her soft breasts flattened against his chest, and he could feel her heart hammering. She blinked up at him, looking 96
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dazed, and he took her mouth. Even dazed, she kissed with the same wholehearted focus and response that she brought to having sex. That she used when talking to someone, he realized.
He could have happily stayed there all night with the swing rocking slightly and his little sub under him. Gabi, not Gabrielle. Fitting. She was as sweet and spicy as he"d thought…and worried she"d be.
She’s not yours, Atherton. Regretfully he kissed her one last time. He pulled out slowly and walked over to dispose of the condom.
When he undid the straps, she lay limp, eyes closed, still not recovered. Not surprising—she"d had a rough night, emotionally and physically, then come like a dream. He lifted her from the swing and settled onto the ground, leaning on a tree and nestling her against him. Amazing how nicely she fit into his arms. He rested his chin on the top of her head, enjoying the scent of her fresh, spicy shampoo and the lemon fragrance from the oil. Her flushed cheek lay against his shoulder, and her breath, still fast, puffed warmly against his neck.
He"d actually planned to take her slower, drive her a little mad first, but her spirited fight had left him with a primitive urge to conquer and mark her in the most basic of ways. As a lawyer, he liked to believe in civilization; as a dom, he"d learned how easily the animal instincts could surface.
He nuzzled the tiny damp curls at her hairline—sometimes those animal instincts were purely fun.
He"d barely gotten settled when three chimes broke through the night, stilling everyone to silence except a woman who climaxed in high yips. Laughter spilled through the gardens, and then the sounds of movement. “Wake up, sugar. We have to head in.”
“Mmmmh.” She rubbed her cheek on his chest and went still again.
He frowned. The energetic little sub wasn"t rebounding in her usual speedy fashion. Then again, how many times tonight had he terrified her, making her blank out? Although the desensitization was for her good, it would have an impact.
He"d topped the night off with a chase, rough sex, bondage, and pain. No matter how much she"d enjoyed the capture game, it had undoubtedly shaken up her emotional equilibrium. No, even if she bounced back now, he wouldn"t—couldn"t—
let her go home alone to experience whatever aftermath or nightmares might come at this point. “Gabi.”
“Mmmhmm.”
“You will be spending the night with me tonight, Gabrielle. You have the choice of where. My place, your place, or one of the upstairs private rooms.”
She stirred in his arms. “But—I need… I mustn"t…”
He saw the effort she made to think. “Do you trust me, Gabrielle?”
Her head dropped back onto his chest, her breathing slowing again.
“Mmmhmm.”
Good enough.
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* * *
At the front St. Andrew"s cross, Z held his cell phone to his ear and listened to the FBI agent rant about Gabrielle"s irresponsibility. With a huff of disgust, he snapped the phone shut and shoved it in his pocket. Idiot agent. Turning, he took a moment to study Jessica. He"d restrained her on the cross only a few minutes before. Color good, breathing easily, her gaze on him. Very nice.
It wouldn"t hurt her to wait on his pleasure. Especially since she knew she"d incurred his wrath for trying to interfere between a dom and sub…again. Little Miss Protect the Other Subs.
He turned to watch Marcus half carry Gabrielle out of the Shadowlands.
Whatever had happened in the gardens had sent the brave little decoy into a place where she wasn"t safe to drive, and Marcus was taking her home with him.
Guilt weighed heavy on Zachary"s shoulders. He"d wanted to tell Marcus the truth for Gabrielle"s sake, but he"d given his word, and so Marcus had pushed her—
as a dom should. He was undoubtedly picking up on the discrepancies in her behavior. He wouldn"t go easy on her, not once he realized she"d kept secrets from him.
Z frowned, wishing he knew the dom better. Friendly but reserved, Marcus was taking his time in becoming friends with the other Masters. Nonetheless, he was a fine dom with a profound sense of honor and protectiveness.
Yes, little Gabrielle would be safe with him.
However, he"d better give Galen and Vance a heads-up. Unlike the idiotic Rhodes, the two FBI agents in charge of the investigation were experienced and careful doms, and they"d understand what had happened to the trainee.
Zachary massaged his neck as he looked around the club. Less than half the members remained this late at night. Although he"d changed the music to Enigma"s quieter chants, his head still throbbed like an overstretched balloon. He"d spent the evening talking with the members, leaving himself open to every emotional nuance, trying to find a hint of a predator in his club. Now his brain felt as if it might explode. At this point, he couldn"t read anyone, no matter how close he got.
He couldn"t even tell what Jessica was thinking—but from her body language, she"d take a cane to him if he let her loose at this point. He"d gagged her again before strapping her to the cross. He shook his head at the fury in her eyes.
Normally he found her impertinent attitude delightful; he had never wanted a meek submissive.
But with a kidnapper targeting rebellious subs, every time she smarted off, his anxiety rose another notch. The thought of someone hurting Jessica… His jaw tightened. The man would die. Painfully.
He"d tried to talk her into taking a vacation right now, without him, and she"d laughed at him.
But Jessica wasn"t the only sub in the club in danger. He could damn well at least remove one target.
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He spotted Sally a minute later and motioned her over, then checked Jessica again. Arms and legs in an X position, nicely open and exposed, her lush breasts begging for use. She caught his eye, and despite the gag, her growl came through clearly. He snorted a laugh and stepped out of the scene area as Sally trotted up.
The vivacious trainee grinned at him. “Master Z, can I do something?”
Keeping an eye on Jessica, Zachary studied Sally. As mischievous as a basketful of kittens, the trainee was as sassy as she was sweet. She topped from the bottom whenever given a chance, which happened all too often. Although the Masters could control her and did scenes with her occasionally, she had both more experience and more intelligence than far too many of the other doms. Too clever and too stubborn for her own good. He"d begun to wonder if she"d ever meet the right dom. “I have a favor to ask of you, Sally.”
“Sure. What can I do?” She"d gone for her favorite schoolgirl costume in a tied-up white shirt and short plaid skirt. Her braids swung, and she bounced on her toes as if he"d offered her a candy instead of wanting her help.
“I want you out of Tampa for a couple of weeks.” Zachary held up his hand to keep her from speaking. “I can"t explain except to say you haven"t done anything wrong. Not in the least. I"m dealing with an internal club matter.”
“But it"ll leave the trainees short.”
Typical of her to worry about the others. “I"ll work it out with Marcus.” He smiled, knowing the perfect bribe. “There"s an airline ticket for Des Moines waiting for you at the United counter. Eleven tomorrow morning. Go visit your family before school starts. Deal?”
Her eyes widened. “Really? Hell, yes.” She caught his frown and swallowed. “I mean, thank you, Sir.”
“Much better.” He tugged on a braid, then hesitated. She lived alone. “One more thing, pet. Please call here when you get to Des Moines. Just leave a message on the machine that you arrived safely. And if you"re worried about…anything…let me know.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “Something"s wrong. What"s going on?”
The sociable imp always knew all the gossip. He lifted her chin. “You will not discuss this, or that I asked you to take time off. Nothing. Am I clear?”
From the way she shrank, he"d scared her. Excellent.
“Yes, Sir. Get ticket, leave Tampa, check in, and don"t talk about it at all.”
“Very good. Off you go now.” He returned to the club"s other contender for brattiest sub. Jessica. Earlier he"d felt her emotions, a hodgepodge quite unlike his straightforward sub. Sadness definitely, uncertainty also. Her behavior had been worse than normal, especially in the Shadowlands, and damned if he knew why.
Perhaps something to do with his boys" visit. He studied her for a minute.
Damn, he loved her—loved her more every day they remained together. She returned it, but could he keep her happy? He was older, as his sons had so tactlessly pointed out, and love didn"t overcome everything. Over the last year, he"d carefully Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir
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avoided any commitment so that she could back out of their relationship if she wanted.
Did she want to? Was her behavior a prelude to calling it quits? Or a reflection of his own moods?
They needed to have a long, long talk, but not now, not when he couldn"t share the information about the kidnappings and investigation. Damn the FBI bastards for insisting on secrecy.
Rubbing his neck, he strolled back to his feisty kitten. Her green eyes shot sparks at him as he took advantage of her helpless condition to enjoy her breasts, using his mouth and fingers until her nipples stood out in hard, dark red peaks. He moved down to her soft thighs, spread so invitingly open—her pussy, already wet and slick. He teased her, waiting for when her growling turned to panting and her face flushed with arousal.
And then he removed her gag and took her mouth, stroking his tongue against hers, working his fingers over her clit. No matter what might happen, for the moment, she was his. As her clit engorged under his touch, she whimpered and squirmed.
When he stepped back, her body strained toward him, needing more. As she remembered where she was, she turned adorably red. “You manipulative jerk.”
“Am I now?”
His cold tone snapped her attention to his face, and she winced. He held her gaze and unzipped his slacks. Being taken in public embarrassed her, but it also excited her. He smiled slowly. How many climaxes would it take before she"d lose her voice? Until exhaustion overwhelmed any urge for disobedience?
“Z. Master. Wait.”
“No,” he said softly. “I will not.”
* * *
Well, he"d certainly been wrong about the redheaded sub. The spotter leaned back against the bar, smiling. A few minutes ago, Marcus had dragged the submissive from the Shadowlands. Not a peep out of her. Looking broken—but that"s what he"d thought before. Apparently a dom could subdue her for a time, as with the spanking last week, but she came right back, snapping and biting. He"d laughed when she"d noisily objected to the slave clothing.
And because of her spirit, the figging scene had been most entertaining. Yes, he"d definitely include her in his report this week. Delightful.
A shame Marcus hadn"t paddled her when she had the ginger up her ass. A submissive anticipating the next blow would clench her buttocks, but the increased pressure heightened the burn from the fig, so she"d relax only to receive a hard swat on the ass.
Well, when they harvested her, he"d suggest it. Perhaps as part of the auction to keep the buyers amused. He might even volunteer to wield the paddle.
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Grinning, he nodded at Cullen, then glanced over to the submissive area. Still an adequate variety and he had a craving for a soft one. He considered. There was a younger woman, and he did enjoy youth, but no. He"d utilize the plump, older sub.
Tears came too easily on a young one. Older ones resisted better, giving more satisfaction when they screamed and begged.
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Chapter Eleven
This is totally insane. Stupid. Gabi scowled as she let Marcus help her out of his sedan. “I feel fine,” she said. “I don"t need—”
“Yes, you do, darlin".” He put his arm around her as if he thought she"d fall down without his help. “You can act as ornery as you want, but you"re not going to stay alone tonight.” He nuzzled the top of her head.
“Oh honestly.” She might have had a chance to protest at the club…if she could have managed, but for some bizarre reason, her synapses hadn"t all been firing.
After talking with Z, he"d had Sally fetch her purse and clothes and stuffed Gabi in his car before she could pull it together.
On the ride to his house, she"d thought about Agent Rhodes and had almost panicked until she remembered that Master Z had hugged her and murmured he"d notify her friend. Dickhead would have a fit, and wasn"t she a bad person to enjoy that he"d yell at Master Z rather than her?
But in all reality, Marcus was right. She shouldn"t drive right now, no matter how much her conscience objected.
That settled, she felt her excitement rise. Master Marcus had brought her to his home. She"d stay with him…all night. And she wanted to. To sleep in his arms, maybe have sex again. Find out more about him and… Damn, don"t be stupid. This is a temporary assignment, Gabi, not a date.
Motion detector-regulated lights came on as they walked up to the front and through a black iron gate into a tiny entranceway filled with sweetly fragrant gardenias. Inside, Marcus let go of her to turn and punch numbers into a security pad. After the humidity of the night, the dry, cool air made Gabi shiver. She wore her yellow top and hot pants Marcus had helped her put on. Hell, he"d practically dressed her. Now, standing here in fetish wear in this nice house, she felt like a slut.
She took a step back, reaching for the handle of the door.
Turning from the keypad, Marcus frowned and stepped closer. His warm hand cupped her cheek. “What"s wrong, darlin"?”
“I just…” He wanted honesty, and her brain was still moving too slow to come up with some excuse. She gestured to her clothes. “I feel sleazy.”
“Then take it off.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “On the rare occasions I bring a submissive home, I generally make her spend the weekend naked.”
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“You—” When she gave him an appalled stare, his laugh filled the room, sending quivers through her stomach.
“Yes, I really do.” His thumb traced her lips as he studied her. “I"m not a twenty-four-hour dom, but I consider nights and weekends to be open season on little subs in my house.”
All weekend? “But—”
“But you"ve had enough tonight, lucky little sub, so don"t get flustered on me.”
When she sighed in relief, he laughed again. “Let me show you around.” He walked ahead of her to turn on lights, and she couldn"t help but notice how his jeans and T-shirt clung to his hard body.
The entry opened into a great room where one side held an intimate seating area, the other side a man"s favorite toy—a giant HDTV. She grinned. The decor appeared very Marcus. Creamy white walls, light marble tile floors, rich bro
wn leather chairs and couches. Everything balanced, the colors clean but warm, although the lack of brightness struck her as sad.
A decorative glass-fronted black iron woodstove separated the living area from the dining area. How fun. Tampa did—occasionally—get chilly enough to warrant a fire. Did he sometimes throw a blanket on the floor and make love to a woman in front of it? The stab of longing to be that woman struck her without warning. “You have a lovely home,” she said, turning away from the room and the emotion.
“Thank you. Now come along, darlin".” He cuffed his fingers around her wrist, making her stomach quake, and led her down the hallway to the master bedroom.
Beige carpet, creamy white drapes, a massive bed covered with a dark blue satin quilt. The carved wood dresser and bedside stands matched the dark wood of the four posters. Curiously she ran her fingers over a scratched section of one of the spindles. Everything else seemed in perfect condition.
Even though she hadn"t spoken, his dazzling smile appeared. “From restraints.”
Oh. She stepped away quickly, abruptly aware of her isolation with a man, someone she"d only known two weeks. A dominant.
His eyes narrowed. Then he pulled her into his arms. “Gabi, no matter where we are or what we do, your safe word still works. And as it happens, I"m not fixin" to throw you on the bed and tie you up. You"re done for tonight.” His hand moved down her back in a slow stroke of comfort.
Why did she feel so safe whenever he held her? She pressed her forehead against his chest. I’m an idiot. “I"m sorry. This just feels so strange. It"s not like I haven"t gone home with a man before—Well, maybe not for bondage, but—You know.” For sex.
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