Masters of the Shadowlands 7 - This is who I am

by Sinclair Cherise

  Linda’s cheeks warmed. But…wow. The tailoring was superb, showing off his broad shoulders and flat stomach. She had a craving to undress him like a gift-wrapped present. Push his jacket open. Undo the shirt buttons. Run her finger down the deep line between his pectoral muscles. His eyes would light with amusement as if lit by the sun. Maybe he’d grip her hair, firmly push her to her knees, and direct her to free his cock. She’d take him in her mouth. Maybe he’d give her that look she’d never seen him use on anyone else—the one that softened his hard features and made his mouth curve just the slightest bit.

  God, she loved the man. Love? She pressed a hand over the stuttering heart that had betrayed her into acting like an idiot in a romance novel. Love between Mr. Sadistic Rancher and Ms. Conservative Businesswoman. Right. How would a relationship between them even work? She still hadn’t figured out how to balance her life as it was.

  Then again, love was love. It didn’t exactly conform to a person’s schedule. Her lips curved. Love. Terrifying, yet what a wonderful gift.

  Her eyebrows rose when a woman walked up to the Masters and took Sam’s hand. Just like that. Sam’s smile flashed. When he touched the woman’s cheek, almost affectionately, Linda felt the bottom of her stomach drop.

  Cold crept up her spine, and then she forced it down. There were lots of Shadowlands people here, and she knew…had seen him play with other women.

  I don’t want him to do that. But at the pond, he’d stated they wouldn’t share. Her chest loosened, letting her breathe. She watched him. The woman might want more—he’s mine, darn you—but that touch was all Sam had given her. And she wasn’t getting his “special” smile.

  “You look funny. Are you all right?” Sally asked.

  Linda jumped. She’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. Beth had returned to the bridesmaids’ group, but Sally remained. “I’m okay. Just saw something that unsettled me a bit.”

  “Oh, I know that feeling,” Sally muttered. She glanced around the open area, crowded with friends and family, then nodded to a cluster of Shadowlands members. “I’ve played with a lot of those guys. Usually had fun. But now and then, you get a Dom who’s a real dickhead.”

  “Really?” Linda frowned. Raoul had made the place sound so safe. “In the Shadowlands?”

  Sally scowled. “Master Z tries, but jerks still get in. Like one guy who just wanted blowjobs. He’d do what a sub wanted, but he wasn’t interested in Domming—just getting off. Or some will do whatever they want if you haven’t been real clear what you’ll allow.” She nodded at a lean man in a black suit. “That one slapped me. I hadn’t put it on my hard limits, but Doms usually start out light in the first scene, you know?”

  Linda studied the guy. Long nose, thin lips, sandy hair. He didn’t look cruel, but she’d learned from the slavers that a man’s appearance didn’t always indicate what lay beneath. “What happened?”

  “Jessica saw me crying and busted in.” Sally grinned. “She got in trouble for not calling a dungeon monitor, but Z stopped the scene.” She nodded at a younger, dark-haired Dom. “That one wanted his buddy to join our scene. Hey, I like threesomes but not with total strangers.”

  Linda shook her head. Maybe she’d have enjoyed threesomes if she were younger. Amusement bubbled up. Younger and less of a stick-in-the-mud. But she was, and she didn’t want anyone but Sam touching her. “I can see how you’d get upset.”

  “Yeah. Then there was a really unnerving guy who—”

  “Just one guy? Not two?” When a big man stepped up behind Sally and ran his hands down her arms, Linda recognized Vance Buchanan, one of the FBI agents who’d attended the trial. “You must be talking about me, pet. I’m going to tell Galen that he’s so boring you didn’t even mention him.”

  Sally spun and glared at the fair-skinned man. “I wasn’t talking about either of you.”

  He had a hearty laugh. “You will be, sweetie. You will be.” He smiled at Linda, then strolled over to his partner, a shorter man with an olive complexion. After a brief conversation, Galen turned to regard Sally with eyes as dark as his hair.

  When Sally stiffened, the man grinned.

  “I’d have to say they do seem to unsettle you.” Linda smothered a laugh.

  Although Galen had resumed talking to Vance, Sally continued to stare at them. “Those two. They’ve got tag teaming down to a science. And they make me feel stupid. I never feel stupid. I need a drink.”

  As Sally managed the impressive feat of stomping away in stilettos, Linda chuckled, then found an empty table to watch Z lead Jessica out for the first dance. They looked so perfect together that a sigh escaped.

  A young man nearby grinned. “What’s it about weddings that makes chicks all gushy?”

  Linda huffed a laugh. He had black hair, brown eyes, and was about the same age as Charles. Her son would say exactly the same thing. “We’re suckers for romance.” She held her hand out. “I’m Linda, a friend of Jessica’s.”

  “Richard.” As they shook hands, he nodded to Z. “His son.” He nudged the young man beside him. “This is my brother, Eric.”

  “Nice to meet you. They make a lovely couple,” Linda said, hoping she wasn’t putting her foot in it. She’d seen Charles’s wariness with Sam. Young men could be very territorial.

  “Yeah.” Eric shook his head. “I didn’t think so at first, and Mom was pissed off. But before Jessica, he used to look kinda sad. Cold.” The two boys exchanged a look.

  “You couldn’t pay me enough to be a shrink to messed-up kids,” Richard said. “He needed her.”

  Eric nodded. “She makes him happy.”

  Linda leaned back in her chair, brows pulling together. Jessica made Z happy; he needed her. I want Sam to need me like that.

  As the newlyweds circled the grassy space, Z’s expression when he looked down into Jessica’s face showed so much love that Linda’s eyes burned. Could I make Sam that happy?

  The need to see him, to talk with him pulled at her, and she rose. Other dancers were flooding onto the grassy dance space. Gabi was scolding Marcus about something—at least until he yanked her up onto her tiptoes and kissed her so thoroughly that she sagged wordlessly against him. He grinned at Raoul, who had Kim on his arm, and Raoul laughed. Kim wore a gorgeous sparkling choker—a symbolic collar. Someday, when she was ready, Raoul would attach a tiny padlock and keep the key.

  Z’s sons had fallen into an argument about the upcoming basketball game. Linda nodded to them before making her way toward the lanai. Around her, conversations hummed, broken occasionally by Cullen’s hearty laughter and giggles from the trainees, whom Sally had joined.

  When Linda reached the lanai, she saw Sam on the far side of the Shadowlands Masters. Did she really want to squeeze her way through a bunch of men? Would Sam even want to see her when he was with the guys?

  As she hesitated, something…a sound, a word, a voice…sent an icy hand of uneasiness up her spine. Her grandmother would have called it someone stepping on her grave. She took a step back, another, then headed the opposite direction. Kari would let her hold the baby.

  Before she’d reached the scattered tables, an arm curved around her waist, stopping her. “You look good.”

  Wasn’t it odd how Sam’s rough voice could smooth any discomfort away? Except perhaps the uneasiness he gave her just by being himself. “You too. Who knew you could wear a suit so well?”

  He snorted. “Rather be in jeans, but this is better than the tux Nolan made me wear at his wedding.”

  Oh boy, the thought of him in a tux was lust inducing.

  Sam’s arm was firmly around her waist as he strolled with her. The feeling of being part of a couple again was wonderful.

  Off to one side, an older couple stood and watched the dancing. When the white-haired man’s eyes met hers, he smiled and raised his voice. “Sam. Introduce us.”

  Sam’s grin flashed. Without waiting for her to agree, he guided her forward, his big hand a warm spot at the hollow of her b
ack. “Martha, this is Linda.” He glanced at Linda. “The ugly one is Gerald.”

  The wrinkles that softened her face couldn’t hide Martha’s dimples. “It’s nice to finally meet you. We noticed you with Sam the other night.”

  The other night?

  “At the club,” Gerald offered, obviously noticing her confusion.

  Them? “You’re… You do…”

  Martha’s laugh sounded like…like Linda’s mother’s. “Yes, we do. We’ve been married for decades, and he’s been my Master for almost that long.”

  “Decades?” Kinksters for most of their life?

  Gerald gave a wheezing laugh. “We met when I wrote her a ticket for speeding, married soon after. Then we discovered the fun stuff about a decade after that.”

  Linda’s mouth dropped open. “How in the world did you hear about BDSM? I mean, you were married. Did he take you to a club or something?”

  “Oh my, no. Clubs like the Shadowlands were impossible to find, and heterosexuals weren’t welcome at most.” Wrinkles curved around the old woman’s smile. “A friend gave me The Story of O.” She tsk-tsked. “The hero showed appallingly insensitive behavior at times, but the story was fascinating. When I told Gerald, he made me read him my favorite parts.”

  “She blushed with every page.” Gerald kissed his wife’s fingertips. “We experimented. Found a few people to answer questions.”

  “We were delighted when Zachary opened his club. It’s pleasant knowing others in the lifestyle.” Martha patted Sam’s arm. “Do bring her to dinner sometime.” Her eyes danced. “I make a mean pot roast.”

  “I’d love that.” Jumping right into this relationship, aren’t you, girl? She looked away and took a slow breath. She was old enough to know that loving someone didn’t mean you could live with him, after all. But everything in her wanted to go full speed ahead.

  As Martha and Gerald responded to a hail from another older couple, Linda looked up at Sam. “I should be going now. I have some accounting to do.”

  “Nope.” He pulled her toward the grassy dance area. “Happens I like waltzing. None of that other crap. And I got a craving to feel your beautiful tits against me. In public.” One eyebrow rose. “Especially with what you’re wearing. Got panties on under that?”

  Her face warmed, and she glanced around to make sure no one was close. “Of course I do.”

  “Since it’s a vanilla function, I can’t order you not to wear them.” He mercilessly pulled her against him, closer than he should for a waltz. He had a lead as strong as his attitude, and the realization gave her a quiver of appreciation.

  He leaned down to murmur in her ear. “But if I find you in briefs at the Shadowlands, I’ll rip them off and whip whatever parts they covered.”

  Despite the cool, high-sixties weather, heat blasted into Linda as if the weather had turned to a muggy July day. To hide her face, she pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

  With a rumbled laugh, he said, “Goddamned pants weren’t tailored for a hard dick. We’re dancing till I’m presentable…or I’ll drag you into the gardens and take care of the problem in a different way.”

  “Shhh. I can’t believe you talk like this.”

  “Mmmmh. And I can see you’re upset.” As he spun them in a circle, he rubbed his chest against her breasts and, even through the clothing, could undoubtedly feel how her nipples had spiked.

  God, I love you. But even as she pressed closer, she knew it wasn’t something he was ready to hear. Considering his past marriage, he might never be ready.

  And considering how screwed up she still was? Going slowly made far too much sense.

  Chapter Twenty

  In the Shadowlands, Sam leaned against the bar, keeping an eye on the door. No Linda yet. His gut was coiled like a rattlesnake about to strike. Over the past couple of weeks, she’d been out of town on buying trips to restock her store. The two times she’d returned, he’d been tied up with the construction, the groves, planting.

  Was she pulling away? He snorted. Men often stepped back from a relationship after a wedding, but not women. Wouldn’t that be fucked-up?

  He wasn’t comfortable with how much he missed talking with her. He missed her sweet body against him in bed. Missed hearing her laugh. She’d given him her cell phone number, but damn. He wasn’t the type to talk on a phone.

  “Sam.” Wearing the gold-trimmed vest of a dungeon monitor, Jake strolled up. “Z asked if you wanted to monitor the Gardens tonight.”

  Linda had said she’d try to make it tonight. “Not this time.”

  “Here go, boys.” Cullen handed Jake a bottled water and thumped one down in front of Sam before moving up the bar to mix a drink from the fancy-ass liquors.

  “Thanks, Cullen,” Jake called. He opened the bottle and regarded Sam quizzically. “Never seen you play in the Capture Gardens.”

  “Never will.” Sam studied the man. A shame it hadn’t worked out with Heather. “Served in ’Nam. I can understand the rape fantasy. Seeing it in real life left a bad taste.”

  Jake lowered the bottle without drinking. “I get that. Saw the aftermath a time or two.” He paused for a moment, then said slowly, “You monitor the Gardens a lot.”

  Sam shrugged. Fantasy was fine, but there wouldn’t be any real rapes happening on his watch.

  As if Sam had spoken, Jake frowned. “Got it.” After sucking his water down, he checked his watch. “I’ll keep an eye on the Games for you tonight.”

  Good man. As the Dom strolled away, Sam watched Linda appear in the door. And there she is. The tightness in his shoulders relaxed.

  Her black dress was midthigh—too long—but the way it clung to her ample curves left him in a forgiving mood. She was barefoot too, so Ben hadn’t approved whatever shoes she’d hoped to wear. She made it a few steps into the clubroom before the noise stopped her.

  Sam grinned. Z and Jessica had returned from their honeymoon. The club had been closed for the two weeks they were gone, and now everyone was in a celebratory mood.

  The music was an upbeat Lacuna Coil, making the scenes lighter than normal. The Mistress caning her blonde sub danced a few steps between each strike. Over at a suspension scene, the Dom had set the submissive to swinging in time with the music.

  Linda took it in, picking up the atmosphere immediately. She bounced a little herself. To Sam’s satisfaction, when she spotted him, she headed over immediately.

  When he caught her lavender-and-lime scent, he hardened. As he roused to the darker side of the Shadowlands, the beast inside him rose at the approach of its prey. A sadist’s toy.

  Her pupils dilated at the look he gave her. Under her silky black top, her nipples contracted into hard spikes.

  Good. Someone wanted to play. Curving his fingers around her nape, he cupped her breast with his other hand. When his thumb circled a nipple, he saw the tension mount inside her. Damn, but he’d missed her. “I’d order you a drink, but I’d rather hurt you first.”

  She looked shocked. Then red streaked her cheeks.

  He kissed her lightly and whispered against her mouth, “See you cry.”

  Her lips quivered under his.

  “Hear you scream.”

  “Oh, heavens.” Her voice was as husky as if she’d already gifted him with a few screams.

  He fisted her hair, keeping her in place, then tightened his fingers on one nipple, firmly enough to hear her suck in air. As he watched, he could see how the pain slid into her like a caress.

  Arousal lit her eyes and darkened her lips.

  “Let’s go.” He led her through the main room, down the hallway, and into the colder, crueler dungeon room. Manacles and shackles were embedded in the rock walls. Chains hung from the dark ceiling beams. A queen’s throne near the back held a Mistress with a slave worshipping her feet. Whimpering came from a submissive on the bondage table who had a dominant couple taking turns with wax play. A thin male sub strapped in the leather sling groaned as his Dom fucked him hard. />
  Sam put his arm around Linda and pulled her close, studying her face. Anxiety and arousal, but no fear. She’d come a long way in trusting him. He picked a free area and yanked on the chains dangling from a heavy beam. Sturdy. Z was as careful as any Dom he’d met, but checking equipment was a habit. No submissive would suffer harm he didn’t intend to give her.

  Linda’s gaze focused on the chain, and she jumped when he ordered, “Strip and kneel.”

  Her sweet compliance made him smile.

  “Good girl.” He really did like the submissive-masochists. And he intended to test her surrender, to push it a step further.

  Her melting brown eyes showed both trepidation and need. It had been over two weeks since they’d played, since he’d hurt her. They’d both enjoy tonight.

  He bent and fastened well-padded leather wrist cuffs on her with panic snaps attached to the D-rings.

  Her eyes went wide, and she started to shiver. Just the way he liked his subs. Pain was meat and potatoes, but anxiety added the dessert. “Up, girl.”

  She rose, moving into position slowly. Odd how a masochist craved pain yet wanted to avoid it.

  He clipped her wrist cuffs to a place on the chain that would keep her steady but not up on tiptoes. Not only because she didn’t have a younger woman’s supple joints, but also because he wanted her able to wiggle her ass this time. A Velcro strap around her ankles kept her legs together and limited other mobility. Her breathing had sped up, and he took a minute to stroke her smooth back. She had the prettiest dimples on each side of her low spine. Her legs were tanned, but her ass remained a seductive white that begged for stripes.

  “Relax, missy. This won’t hurt much.”

  She snorted. “‘This won’t hurt much’ from a sadist is as believable as hearing a root canal is just a little uncomfortable.”

  “You’re right.” He grinned and slapped her ass, leaving red handprints on the white canvas. And because he enjoyed the sound of his palm hitting skin and her sharp inhalations, he spanked her even longer. After a bit, her muscles loosened and her ass pushed back for each swat. His cock hardened, wanting to satisfy her unspoken request, but he’d wait until she was breathing in the stinging like incense.