“You"re such a good girl,” he murmured and stepped back.
A second later, velvety fingers ran up and down her back—not his hands. A flogger, he was teasing her with a flogger.
He hit her lightly. And again. Soon the tiny, thuddy sensations went up her thighs, her butt, her back, the rhythm never faltering, the impact slowly increasing.
Her bottom, her thighs began to sting, and gradually the blows hurt as a burning pain lingered behind each slapping blow.
Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir
131
Before it reached too much, Marcus slowed and eased off.
Realizing she was using the chains for support, feeling a little dizzy, she straightened, thinking he was done.
Instead she felt his breath on her mound.
She inhaled sharply as her pussy suddenly woke. When he slid his hands between her legs, her knees shook. His fingers curled upward over her lower buttocks, and his thumbs drew her labia slightly apart, completely exposing her clit.
She shuddered at the sensation of being touched as if he had the right.
He ruthlessly opened her farther. “Very pretty, darlin", all swollen and pink.”
His tongue, hot and wet, slid directly over it, and lightning ran straight up her spine with an almost audible hiss.
His merciless fingers held her still as he closed his lips around her clit. He ran his tongue over the swollen nub of nerves, rubbing one side, then the other, as his top lip pressed down on the hood.
Her body went stiff; her legs quivered. Unrelenting, he continued as her insides coiled, tightened, her breathing stopped. Hot stroke after hot stroke. The pressure grew until nothing could hold it back. Her body exploded, a tsunami of pleasure engulfing her. Her hips tried to buck against him, and he held her still, controlling her even through her orgasm.
Before she finished shuddering, he started flogging her again. Gentle caresses and tiny thumps from the multiple strands of the flogger. The rhythm never faltered as the strokes grew harder and harder, stinging against her skin, yet somehow the burn increased the throbbing between her legs.
The blows began to hurt.
He eased up, slowed, stopped. And then he knelt in front of her and ran his hands up her legs.
Again? Oh God.
She shook as he stroked her with hard hands, pulling her pussy against his mouth. He didn"t tease her—no, his lips demanded that she respond.
As his tongue slid over her, her clit hardened, swelled, and her insides coiled under his touch. She moaned, losing track of everything, as the stinging on her skin blended with the fire drawn in circles by his hot tongue. The pressure inside her tightened, and then he closed his lips around her and sucked, flickering his tongue over her clit at the same time.
“Oooh God.” The wail escaped her as everything inside burst outward in waves of pleasure.
“That"s my girl,” he murmured. “Let it go.”
He flogged her again, harder yet. And made her come again. The pain on her skin grew, yet so did the pleasure until each blow of the flogger excited her more and tightened her clit, until his breath on her mound pulled the stinging into her 132
Cherise Sinclair
clit, transforming it into excitement. Until the pain itself squeezed through her as tightly as his lips around her.
When the blows started again, she couldn"t tell. Somehow the ground had disappeared from under her feet. She couldn"t hear the whip anymore, just the rush of her breath and thud of her heart. Her arms and legs were gone; nothing was there except the clouds around her. White puffs that billowed and bumped against her back in soft little jostlings.
“Gabi.” So insistent a sound. “Gabi.” The demanding, deep voice pulled at something inside her as if it could tug her heart out.
“Uh-huh.” Her tongue didn"t move right, and she tried again. The clouds around her lightened until the sky showed through them. So blue. Clear blue.
Intense…eyes.
“Tell me why you"re so disobedient.”
It took a minute to get through. Diso…what? Disobedient.
“Why, Gabi.”
Her lips felt numb. His eyes were so blue. “I have to. Noisy sub. They said.”
“Said what, sugar?”
“Get attention. Noticed.”
Marcus frowned at his little sub. Eyes glazed, breathing slowly. The pain and pleasure had overwhelmed her until she rode a wave of endorphins and submission.
She was deep into subspace, and the most beautiful woman he"d ever seen.
And he"d hit topspace, his senses overly acute, her every breath and movement pulling him further in, binding them into one. But “they said”? Was she hearing voices? “Who said, Gabi? Who told you to get noticed?”
Her brows drew together, and she blinked. “Kouros. Agent Kouros.”
What the hell? At his house, she"d dodged his question about a job… “Where do you work, Gabi?”
“FBI.”
It took a second, and then the word hit him like a bullet in the chest and he grunted at the impact. Chairs creaked behind him as the other doms rose, probably as stunned as he was. She’s been playing me? “You"re an FBI agent?”
Her brows drew together. “Yes. No.”
“You"re undercover.”
“Yes.” Her head sagged.
He needed to get her down. Glancing at the doms, he jerked his head for help.
Raoul and Cullen unbuckled her wrists and Nolan her ankles. Marcus supported her weight and then scooped her into his arms. She"d lied to him. But no matter what happened, a dom didn"t abandon a sub after a scene.
Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir
133
He settled onto a wide porch swing with Gabi on his lap. When Nolan offered a sheet, he nodded. The evening felt too warm for blankets, but she"d need the comfort of something over her nakedness. Nolan tucked it around her body, and she shivered.
“Easy, sugar,” Marcus said. “You"re just fine. I"ve got you, darlin".”
As the endorphins wore off, her euphoria would disappear and the pain from the flogging would start to register. He hadn"t flogged her hard, but she"d taken a while to get deep enough into subspace.
She stirred again, probably feeling her skin stinging. Blinking up at him, she offered a lopsided smile. “Hey.”
Despite his anger, his heart tugged. She looked so sweet, nestled against him like a milk-fed puppy, her eyes open and honest.
No hidden reserve. He hadn"t realized its existence until it had disappeared.
Secrets. Dammit. He hauled in slow breath.
“Hey,” he answered gently. His anger and his need to demand explanations would have to wait until they returned to even footing. She was too vulnerable right now.
“Rest, sugar. I have you,” he repeated. Her unique scent of rose and sandalwood and feminine musk slid into him.
Her fingers stroked his chest lightly as she snuggled. Her trust sent fury surging through him, because he"d trusted her in turn and she"d lied. As he rocked, he considered how Z had insisted Marcus take on a trainee they hadn"t discussed and insisted he keep her for a month. An unyielding fist squeezed his guts, and he lifted his head.
The others had pulled up chairs around him. Cullen, ever the bartender, handed Marcus an opened can of soda.
He took a long drink, but the cold bite of carbonation didn"t remove the bitterness of betrayal. “Z knew. That sorry bastard knew.”
Nolan"s black eyes studied the little sub as he drank his beer. “Seems likely.”
Anger ran through the calm words.
At a sound from the house, Marcus glanced up at the third story. Z stepped out onto the landing and came down the steps to the veranda.
“Gentlemen,” Z said as he neared the group. “I"m sorry to be so late.” As every Master on the patio turned their attention to him, Z took a step back, one hand massaging his forehead as if someone had punched him—something Marcus really wanted to do. “What"s wrong
?”
“We"ve discovered a few interesting facts about the new trainee,” Cullen said in a level voice. He nodded toward Gabi.
Z"s face went still. “What happened?”
“She"s okay. Just in subspace,” Cullen said quickly.
“I see.” Mouth thinned, Z asked Marcus, “You questioned her?”
134
Cherise Sinclair
A twang of guilt hit, and Marcus pushed it aside, recalling the nights he"d lain awake, trying to figure out the trainee Z had insisted he take. His voice came out hard. “She"s not a disobedient submissive—she"s an FBI agent. What else have you lied about, Z?”
Just then, Gabi squirmed on his lap. Using his arm as an aid, she pulled herself to a sitting position and rubbed her face. She smiled at Marcus. “I"ve never felt anything like that before.”
“Probably not.” He tried but couldn"t damp the anger soon enough.
Her smile wavered and died. She looked at the others. At Z. Back at Marcus.
Her face paled to the color of Marcus"s white shirt, and she wrung her hands. “It"s all funny in my head, but I remember…I told—”
“Yes,” he interrupted. “You did.” Fury at her deception made his words clipped.
Cold.
Her brow furrowed. “You questioned me—like a criminal. You wanted me to trust you just so you could do that to me.” She shoved to her feet, staggering back on shaky legs.
Marcus rose hastily to put an arm around her.
“Don"t touch me, you bastard.” She shoved at his arm. “Get away from me. I"m out of here. Never—”
“You"re not driving in this condition, Gabrielle,” Marcus said even as Z did. He glared at Z. “Stay out of this.”
Without answering, Z moved closer to cup Gabi"s cheek. “Are you all right, little one?”
Marcus"s anger flared higher as he fought the need to pull his sub out of Z"s reach.
She made such an effort to smile at Z that Marcus"s heart twisted. “I"m fine.”
And they could both feel her tremble. Dammit, he needed to stay with her; she couldn"t be left alone. He tightened his grip. “I"m taking her home, Z, and then we"ll talk.”
“No,” Gabi snapped and jerked away from him.
“Gabrielle,” Marcus warned.
“You have no—nothing to do with me.” The look of betrayal on her face matched his own, and he felt as if he"d kicked a defenseless child. “I don"t want you near me. You bastard.” Her voice broke, and she turned away.
Marcus considered. He could overrule her and take her home, but his presence right now would be more damaging than someone else"s. Especially since he still didn"t understand what was going on. “Raoul?”
“Yes,” Raoul said, understanding immediately. “I"ll drive her car—and her—to her place.” He pulled Gabi into his arms, ignoring her protests. “This isn"t up for discussion, chiquita. You don"t have a choice.”
Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir
135
When she sagged, too tired to put up a fight, Raoul said, “Nolan, can you follow and bring me back after? It might take a while, since I want to make sure she doesn"t drop. Further.”
“Can do. No problem.” Nolan shot Z an icy stare. “But you and I will talk.”
“Understood.” As the two doms escorted Gabi through the side gate, Z pulled out his cell and told someone Gabi was being driven home. He shut the phone on the sound of a man cursing and kneaded his brow. “What a night.”
“No shit.” Cullen handed Z a drink, getting a surprised look. “Yes, I"m pissed off, but you rarely do anything without a reason, so I"ll wait until I hear it.”
Marcus wasn"t feeling that charitable. Guilty as hell was his judgment.
Cullen took a chair, stretching his long legs out, deliberately lowering the sense of an impending fight. Z and Marcus remained standing.
Marcus braced his feet. The other Masters had known Z for years. Marcus hadn"t, and the bastard had damned well destroyed any chance of that. Marcus planned to have his say, tear up his membership card, and never look back. Right now his only question was whether to use a fist to punctuate his statement.
Z"s gaze met his. “Marcus.” He sighed. “Let"s talk. I have decisions to make, and since the secret is out, you all can help.” The bastard pulled two chairs over and shoved one to Marcus before sitting across from him and Cullen. Deliberately taking the hot-seat position.
Despite his anger, Marcus had to admire the man"s self-possession. Dropping into the chair, Marcus set his elbows on the arms. Waiting silently.
“The FBI came to me two weeks ago,” Z started. “The previous month, a submissive had been kidnapped and then escaped. Before she died of a gunshot wound, she said someone was kidnapping rebellious subs for a slave auction—for men who want the pleasure of breaking them. More slaves are scheduled to be taken from Tampa, and the final pickup of victims is next Sunday.”
“Son of a bitch,” Cullen muttered.
“Three subs from different BDSM clubs are missing in Atlanta. The FBI has no leads, so they placed decoy submissives in Tampa/St. Pete clubs. Gabrielle was assigned to the Shadowlands. I had to give my word not to tell anyone, even you, Marcus, although I did protest the secrecy. Both sides had valid arguments, and unfortunately the FBI is in control of the decision.”
Z looked at Marcus, no expression on his face. “I gave her to you because I could ask you to keep her when any other dom would have dumped her after the first night. Or abused her. I knew you wouldn"t let your anger rule you.” Z leaned back and took a drink of the beer Cullen had given him, obviously giving them time to absorb everything.
His word. Marcus scrubbed his face, feeling the rough stubble. An honest man didn"t break his word.
Cullen snorted. “Dan would call this a clusterfuck.”
136
Cherise Sinclair
Marcus stared out at the palm trees. The black shapes blotted out the stars.
Cullen had it right; this was a clusterfuck with no path that didn"t involve betrayal or damage. Knowing Z"s protectiveness toward submissives, Marcus understood his need to help. With a sigh, Marcus gave up. “It must have got you all riled up to see her punished for doing her job.”
Z"s shoulders sagged, the only sign he"d worried over Marcus"s opinion.
“Nothing about this has been easy for anyone.” His eyes met Marcus"s. “Marcus, I am sorry.”
“Appears to me you didn"t have a choice. And Gabrielle knew what she was getting into.”
“I doubt that. Although I insisted she fill out the questionnaire honestly, I daresay she pushed her own comfort zone—she didn"t want to take a chance she"d fail to attract attention. Unfortunately, I believe her experience was limited and lightweight and several years ago.”
“Fuck.” Cullen"s face turned to granite. “I ball gagged her. How could I not have—”
Z nodded. “And that reaction justifies the reasoning for secrecy. How can you punish misbehavior appropriately if you know the sub is acting? The two agents in charge of the investigation are both experienced doms; they knew how we"d react.”
“Brave little sub,” Cullen said. “I know FBI agents are tough cookies, but…”
Z winced. “Not to add to your guilt, Marcus, though I doubt it can exceed mine, but she"s not an agent.”
“Excuse me?” Marcus said, keeping his voice as polite as he could manage.
“I didn"t find out until this week when her backup sniped about her lack of training.” Z rubbed his forehead again. “She"s a victim specialist—a social worker who helps the victims of crime.”
“Why the hell is a social worker here?” Marcus asked. His jaw felt so tight it might shatter.
“One of the women kidnapped in Atlanta is her friend. Gabrielle volunteered—
demanded—to help. I daresay BDSM-experienced submissives are in short supply among FBI agents, so they took her up on it.” Z shifted in his chair. “Marcus, she"s one of the bravest people I
know. She is completely terrified and doing this anyway.”
Terrified. He"d seen her fear. Every single night. He set his drink down carefully. He"d made her fear worse. He"d spanked her. Mercilessly. He"d hurt an innocent, vulnerable woman and made her cry.
Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir
137
Chapter Fifteen
Gabi"s brain slowly thawed from an icy ball into something functional. Her fingers clenched her crocheted throw to her breasts like a security blanket. Her eyes opened to focus on her bland apartment.
She tried to move. Failed. She frowned down at the thickly muscled arm around her waist, holding her against a hard chest. I don’t know that arm. Marcus"s arms were powerful but leaner. She looked up, past the corded neck, the strong jaw, and into chocolate brown eyes. Not blue. “Master Raoul.”
He smiled at her. “Back with me again? How do you feel?”
What was he doing in her apartment? As her memories flooded in, her breath strangled in her throat. Flogging. Marcus. Questions. The other doms. Her jaw clenched. This dom had stood and watched while Marcus turned her into jelly and interrogated her.
She shoved his arm away and rose, ignoring the weakness in her legs. “I want you to leave now.” Pulling her blanket more tightly around her bare shoulders, she tried to conceal her shivering. Her apartment felt as if someone had set the air-conditioning to thirty degrees, and the chill had gone bone-deep. She might never be warm again.
“Chiquita…”
“Go away.” In her head, she could see her mother"s disapproval at her rudeness. I don’t care.
“You"re still shaking, Gabrielle,” he said.
Raoul had been kind to her. He"d stayed silent on the drive home, not trying to make excuses for Marcus or blaming her for lying to them. Instead he"d held her hand in his big warm one as if to remind her she wasn"t alone. He"d escorted her to her apartment. Once inside, he"d ignored her protests and held her as she had a meltdown.
Make Me, Sir Page 20