Club Shadowlands (4 page)

“But I’m not a sub. I’m not into that at all. I hated what that man wanted to do. Being whipped… Just the thought makes me sick.”

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers leaving a tingle in their wake.

“It’s a rare person who would enjoy being assaulted by a stranger.”

“Huh.” The shakes were lessening, and her brain was starting to work again. “So a submissive person doesn’t just go belly-up when some guy orders her around?”

He grinned, a flash of white teeth in a darkly tanned face. “Hardly. Just as with any relationship, a Dom/sub relationship has attraction” -- he stroked a finger down her cheek and her breath stopped at the intense look in his eyes -- “and trust.”

Pulling her gaze from his took effort, but she managed. She wasn’t comfortable at all with the way her senses had woken up, as if he’d plugged her into an electrical current.

Turning, she rested her elbows on the bar top and concentrated on her drink, trying to ignore the way her body felt, the way he affected her. Hmmm, her reaction was probably from him saving her. She’d read something about that. Okay, fine.

Be cool, continue talking, girl. “What kind of trust?” His scent came to her again, appealingly male.

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He curled his hands around her bare upper arms and turned her toward him. With one hand, he tilted her chin up until his gaze trapped her. “The trust that your master knows what you need and will give you what you need, even when you aren’t always sure.”

The words, the sheer certainty in his rich voice, sent heat stabbing through her, a wave of need so potent she quivered inside.

As if he could see into her head, he smiled slowly and whispered, “The trust that lets a woman be tied down and spread open for her master’s use.”

Her mouth dropped open as she took a hard breath, the image of herself naked, spread-eagled on a bed with him looking down at her was more erotic than anything she’d felt before.

He cupped her cheek, leaned forward, his breath warm against her ear as he murmured, “And your reaction to that shows you are a submissive.”

She jerked away from him, away from the heat growing inside her, and the awareness of his body so close to hers. “No way. I really am not.”

Time to change the subject. She cleared her throat, her voice husky when she asked,

“So, what’s your name, anyway? Does everyone call you Master Z?”

He merely smiled at her and picked up the drink the bartender had left for him. His big hand engulfed the glass. When his lips touched the glass, his eyes met hers, and she could almost feel those lips closing over her mouth, over her breast… Jeez, Jessica, get a grip.

He set the glass down, and then, as if he’d heard her thoughts, he took her face between his hands and brought his mouth down on hers. Her heart sped up, but it was the way he held her in place that sent hunger searing through her veins. His lips were firm, knowledgeable, teasing a response from her. A stinging nip made her open her mouth, and he plunged in, his tongue stroking hers.

Everything inside her seemed to melt. A burn started between her legs, and her hands curled around his muscular forearms in an effort to keep herself upright.

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Cherise Sinclair

With a low laugh, he took her wrists and put her arms around his neck. Nudging her legs apart, he moved between them. Hand on her bottom, he slid her closer until her mound rubbed against his thick erection, the thin material no barrier at all. When she gasped at the pleasure surging through her, he simply took the kiss deeper, his grip implacable.

By the time he pulled back, she was trembling all over; her hands dug into his wide shoulders so tightly her fingers ached. The room seemed to throb in time with her whole lower half.

His eyes crinkled when she just looked at him, unable to speak. Cupping her cheek, he sucked on her lower lip, drawing it into his mouth, his tongue sliding across it. And when he released her, a wicked smile told her that he was thinking of putting his mouth elsewhere.

Her nipples tightened into hard buds.

“Master Z?” A different bouncer approached, his manner tentative. “Could you check this out? Just take a second?”

Sir’s gaze kept Jessica pinned in place as his knuckles rubbed against her aching breasts.

She managed to not moan, somehow, but she might as well have, considering the glint of laughter in his eyes.

“I have to attend to something,” he murmured. “Will you be all right?”

She huffed out a breath. “Oh, sure.”

It was good -- very good -- that he had to leave her; in another minute, she’d have been willing to do anything he asked, and in this place, that could be really bad. She let out a shaky breath.

His lips curved. “Don’t consider yourself safe yet, pet. I’ll be back soon.”

Master Z -- no, she wasn’t going to be calling him master anything out loud, no matter how well he kissed -- glanced at the bouncer. “Show me.”

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Zachary followed Matthew, one of the dungeon monitors. Not bad timing, actually.

She needed time to absorb what he’d said, time to grow tantalized by the thought of being taken. She was definitely attracted, not only to the idea of domination, but to him personally.

When he’d spoken of taking her for his pleasure, he’d not only felt the flare of excitement in her mind, but heard the deep breath she’d taken, seen the increasing pulse in her neck. And her reaction to a simple kiss was so heated, he’d had to control himself to not lay her out on the bar top and bring her to a screaming orgasm right then.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so drawn to a woman. Just watching her walk through the room with her firm stride, her chin up, he’d felt the compulsion to take her, to have her for his own.

An assertive woman. He wasn’t surprised that the sub, Joey, had assumed she was a Domme. From a distance, he would have assumed the same. But up close, when he touched her, she yielded completely, even when her reaction confused her.

Everything about her appealed to him, from her lush little body to her logical mind…and the passion that kept breaking loose from her stringent control.

And she was pushing his own control to the breaking point. So, let her wander some more. Think some more. All the choices needed to be hers, right up until she handed the right to him.

Matthew stopped at one of the farther stations. A sub was tied down over a spanking bench. Her Dom had his cock shoved into her mouth, and she was crying, protesting.

“One of the observers was worried,” the dungeon monitor said, “but the sub hasn’t used any safe word or gesture.”

Zachary tilted his head, his eyes on the sobbing woman, letting her feelings slide into him. He grinned. “It’s part of the scene and her favorite activity. No worries.”

Matthew clapped Zachary on the arm with a laugh. “Good enough. Damn, life is easier when you’re here, boss. Sorry if I interrupted something with that little newcomer.”

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Biting her lip, Jessica gazed after Sir. She’d been more turned on by kissing him than by having sex with someone else. How did he do that? Affect her like that? There was something about him…not just his words…even his walk was powerful. Controlled. Back in college, she’d been to a karate exhibition where some of the black belts had that aura, an unsettling mixture of danger and discipline. She wasn’t the only one who he affected, either.

Club members moved out of his way; the women turned to watch after he passed.

Just like her.

And he’d called her little one. She frowned. If another man labeled her that, she’d cut him down to size, so why had her insides melted when Sir did it? Oh, she was in deep trouble here.

After he disappeared into the crowd, she turned back to finish her drink. Trying to ignore the seductive music, she smiled at the two men who took seats beside her, exchanged introductions, and was soon in a heated conversation about tax laws.

One of the men, Gabe, had a presence about him almost like Sir. His confidence and the commanding look in his eyes gave her a funny sinking feeling inside.

The bartender’s gaze had that effect on her too, she realized, as Cullen wandered back to their area. He shook his head at Gabe. “Uh-uh. Z’s.”

Gabe frowned. “Now there’s a pity. Well, Jessica, if you ever find yourself fancy-free, I’d enjoy getting to know you better.”

“I --” Unable to think of a proper rejoinder, Jessica nodded politely and watched Gabe walk away. She turned to Cullen. “What is this ‘Z’s’ stuff? He’s not my owner, dammit.”

His grin flickered so quickly she almost didn’t see it. “No, love, he’s not. I just thought I’d save Gabe some effort. I’ve seen you with Master Z; Gabe doesn’t stand a chance.”

Jessica glared and turned her back on him. Like she was so obvious.

She wasn’t, was she?

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Of course not. Putting her chin up and Sir out of her mind, she smiled and opened conversations with the members around her. Strange conversations at times. One man had long chains fastened to his belt. In fishnet tops and latex shorts, two men, obviously gay -- or would that be bi? -- checked her out for a threesome. A woman, in skintight red latex and matching gloves to her elbows, owned a bookstore and was fun to talk with, but her heated gaze was disconcerting.

When the woman moved away, Jessica glanced around the room. Her nerves had settled. She should continue exploring since her tame world sure didn’t include anything like this place. Why did she find some of this stuff so…arousing?

Uncomfortable as the admission was, she needed an answer. She’d never been one to hide her head in the sand, after all.

And this time she’d be prepared for jerks. She could also use Master Z’s name as a conjuring tool: Don’t mess with me or Master Z will make you disappear. Yeah, that might work.

Grinning, she slid off the bar stool and set out. She received two more propositions in the first twenty feet; one man was worth a second look. He had that same confidence --

strength -- as Master Z and Gabe. But somehow, Sir made every man in the room seem weak, unfinished. She thought of the way he looked at her -- all his attention on her, not on the music or other people or planning his evening or even his next sentence. To be the focus of that intensity was heady.

And then, of course, came the question she really didn’t want in her mind: What would it be like to have all that attention on her in bed?

She blinked and refocused her own attention to the here and now, not in visualizing Sir with his clothes off, with his big hands wrapped around her wrists and his mouth…

Argh. Stop. Look. Walk. At one of the well-lit stations, a person was tied on what must be that St. Andrew’s cross the jerk had mentioned. This time the shackled person was a male 30

Cherise Sinclair

whose female boss was whipping him in horrible places. Completely appalled, Jessica stared for a moment, pulling her legs together in reaction. No, she didn’t want to watch this -- no way. Hurrying past, she could only think, These people are crazy.

She passed two women talking together on a couch. The woman in a black catsuit was telling the other, “Your safe word is banana. Can you remember --”

And what would a safe word be?

The farther she got from the entrance, the more the lighting changed, growing ominous. Ah, some of the flickering wall sconces had red-tinted bulbs.

At the end of the room, open double doors led into a wide hallway. A lot of people were milling around in there, and the noises made Jessica’s stomach twist: screams, the sound of a whip, begging. Too intense. She wasn’t going down that hall.

Not that she could escape all the uncomfortable sounds. As she headed toward the other side of the room, high-pitched screams rose above the hum of conversation. In a roped-off area, a burly man with tattooed arms was whipping a little brunette tied on a sawhorse-like table. The poor woman was shrieking, “Stop! Stop, please, stop!” He didn’t stop. People stood outside the ropes, not doing anything. Damn them.

Fury seared through her like wildfire. Her sister had been beaten like that during her marriage; Jessica had suspected abuse, but hadn’t acted. She would this time.

Coming up behind the man, she grabbed the whip out of his hand. “You perverted asshole, let her up, or I’ll show you what it feels like!”

The man’s bulldog face flushed red, and he took one step forward, then stopped, hands closing into fists at his side. Turning to a spectator, he snapped out, “Fetch me a monitor.”

Spinning back toward Jessica, he snatched at the whip.

Jessica punched him right in the face, knocking him down, shocking herself. Aside from karate classes in college, she’d never hit anyone. But, hey, the punch had worked.

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The brief thrill disappeared as he slowly got to his feet. Very not good. Her mouth went dry. She backed up a step, her heart hammering against her ribs.

His eyes were maddened; his fist rose as he stepped forward.

“Stop.” Master Z’s compelling voice. The man halted, and Jessica sucked in a relieved breath. Everyone turned as Sir strode into the roped-off area. He glanced at her then the man. “Explain, Master Smith.”

“We were in the middle of a scene, and this crazy woman comes roaring out of the crowd, screaming, grabs my whip, and damned if she didn’t punch me.” Rubbing his reddened chin, the man’s lips curved a little. “It’s almost funny, but still, she ruined our scene.”

Master’s Z’s gaze turned to her and she winced at the grim look in his eyes. “Jessica, explain.”

“She was screaming and yelling, ‘Stop, stop,’ and he was whipping her. No one was doing anything.” Feeling like a child called on the carpet, she held out the whip. “I took it away from him.”

“What is your sub’s safe word?” Sir asked the bully.

“Purple.”

“Did she use it or the club safe word?”

“Nah. She wasn’t anywhere close. We been together three years, and she’s only used it twice. I’m pretty careful that way, Z.”