Chapter Ten
The low-voiced threat sent excitement churning through her, making her aware of the cool fog against her ankles, the way bushes scraped on her naked body when she got too close, the way her breasts jostled as she ran. A corner. Another.
She popped into a secluded spot to catch her breath, and back out and—
He grabbed her from behind.
“No!” Instinctive terror blasted her. She twisted and shoved at him frantically.
Marcus… It was Marcus, not a stranger. Okay. Okay. Using her head now, she pulled and sidestepped, and his hands slipped off her oily body.
“Li"l brat.” He made another grab for her.
I’m a greased pig, all right. Giggling, she dashed for the far side of the clearing, gaining only a few yards before his hand closed on her arm—and she yanked out off his grasp. No hitting or scratching, she reminded herself.
“You are a slippery little thing, aren"t you?” he said, his southern accent markedly increased. The bastard grabbed her hair.
“Ow!” She turned to hit him—rules be damned—and he moved faster than she"d thought possible. Setting an arm behind her shoulders, the other up between her legs, he yanked her hips forward, tipping her backward, then dropped down on his knees with her in his arms. Before she got her balance, he rolled her onto her stomach.
No way. She got her feet under her and lunged forward.
With a low laugh, he caught her ankle and yanked her back, then set a knee on her butt. His weight pinned her, making her feel…odd. Excited.
Yet the second his powerful hands closed on her shoulders, terror engulfed her in a cold, mindless fog. She froze.
He stilled. Waited. She caught a whiff of his musky amber scent, and warmth dissipated her fear. It was Marcus touching her. Knowing his knee rested on her bare bottom, his weight trapped her, made all the difference. She wiggled and couldn"t resist taunting him. “You rat-bastard dipwad, let me go.”
Chuckling, he tightened his grip. “Mouthy little sub.” The wrist cuffs snicked off his belt. “I am going to enjoy what I do to you.”
Oh God. Under the growing tension, unable to help herself, she squirmed, and he simply put more weight on her. Controlling her.
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Despite her thrashing, he firmly buckled one wrist cuff on and the other, then clipped them together behind her back. When he removed his weight, she thought he"d pull her to her feet. Instead his knee pushed between her thighs, keeping her legs apart.
His jeans scraped against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. For a minute, he didn"t move. And then he stroked her legs, traced the crack between her butt checks, squeezed her waist. He ruthlessly touched her how and where he pleased, and her skin burned under his calloused hands until it seemed she might set the grass beneath her on fire.
He set his palm between her legs to cup her heat and gave a satisfied,
“Mmmmh. You"re nice and wet, darlin".”
His touch roused her, yet…she felt too naked, too restrained, too vulnerable.
Needing to escape, she wiggled. Helplessly.
“No, Gabrielle.” His voice deepened, a smooth threat as his hand pressed on her ass cheeks, holding her in place. “Stay put, sugar. I want to examine my prize.”
The commanding voice, the knowledge he wouldn"t let her move, melted her inside. This was what she wanted, needed. Someone to take the control from her.
She turned her head and rested her cheek. The cool grass scraped and tantalized her bunching nipples, an erotic contrast to his warm hand on her bottom.
“Good girl.” His unyielding hand held her down as with his other, he touched her intimately, caressing her folds and sending heat lancing up her center. When he slowly pressed a finger through her puffy tissues and up inside her, pleasure boiled up so violently that her eyes almost crossed.
His finger slid out, then pushed in deeper. He made another pleased sound.
“Yes, Li"l Sassy, I"m going to tie you down, spread you open, and see how much of me you can take.”
Oh God, yes. Her p-ssy clenched around him.
With a low laugh, he rose and lifted her easily to her feet. Holding her wrist cuffs, he reached around her and teased her breasts, pulling on her nipples, until her breasts burned with the same need as her p-ssy. As he pushed her toward the darkest section of the tiny area, he said in a low voice, “I intend to take my time later, but right now, little escaped slave girl, I"m going to f*ck you hard.” The rude word in Marcus"s smooth voice was jarring. And so hot her knees wobbled.
Something glinted in the pale moonlight, and she saw that a heavy chain ran down from a thick tree branch and intersected four chains that opened to hold up…a tire swing. Rather than a standing-up position, the tractor-sized tire lay horizontally. “A swing?”
“You"ll know why in a minute.” Marcus unclipped her wrists, grabbing her quickly before she could escape, and tossed her onto her back between the two sets of chains. The tire had canvas attached over the hole, providing support in the center. Her neck rested on the tire rim. I don’t want to make love on a damned swing. She sat up.
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Marcus laughed and shoved her down, then clipped her wrist cuffs to the chains beside her shoulders. The tire rocked wildly as she struggled, yet her excitement increased with each unsuccessful yank against the chains. When he walked to the bottom of the swing, she kicked at him. “I don"t want to have sex here.”
“I didn"t ask what you wanted.” He caught one leg in his merciless grip, and now she"d seen him without the suit, she knew just how muscular he was. “And I"m going to enjoy tying you up, sugar.” He tried to bend her leg up, but she kept it straight—that was the whole point of the game, right?
She almost giggled. So maybe not all her insolent behavior was playacting.
And every time he made her obey, it seemed to fan the flames in her roaring furnace.
With an amused sound, he held her leg in one hand and poked her in the ribs with a knuckle. She squeaked, and suddenly he had her leg bent and had her ankle in a strap hanging from the chain. He did the same on the other side, and there she was, naked and outside in a garden, faceup on a tire swing, wrists hooked to the chains, straps holding her legs up and apart.
God, this was so wrong. Kinky. Insane.
Yet heat seared her skin as he ran his hands over the backs of her thighs, leaving tingles in their wake. “I want that little p-ssy all the way down here where I can get to everything,” he said and pulled her hips until her bottom hung out over the end of the tire and her legs angled toward her shoulders. He secured a strap up and over her pelvis to keep her hips from moving. At all.
Her p-ssy was open and exposed, and the slight movement of the swing wafted air over her wet folds. He studied her for a minute and smiled. “There you go, all ready for anything I want to do to you. You look beautiful, Gabrielle,” he murmured.
She couldn"t take it anymore, not from him. “Gabi.”
“Excuse me?” His fingers slid between her folds, circling her *.
Her breathing increased as her * seemed to engorge. “My friends call me Gabi.”
“Well, now, I do believe we might be considered friends,” he said, amusement obvious, as he teased her, rubbing one side of her *, circling her entrance, repeating it again. He was too damned good at using his fingers, dammit. Her need grew, her p-ssy craving to be filled almost as much as her aching nub of nerves needed more of his touch. She squirmed, trying to get more.
“Stay still, sugar.” He slapped her bottom, and the sting burned right into her *.
She moaned.
His fingers paused. “I asked Holt to see if you enjoyed a little pain. Looks like you do.”
Her eyes shot open. “No. I don"t like pain.”
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“Mmmhmm.” He slid a finger into her, so fast and deep she choked. A burn ignited from the inside out. Her words tangled on her tongue as pleasure rocketed through her.
He slapped her bottom harder.
Aaaah! The pain set her p-ssy on fire, and she almost came right then.
He laughed, low and deep, running his hand over the stinging area. “I"ll be adding a tad more variety to your trainee scenes so we can explore this side of your nature.”
Her tongue felt thick, and all she could think about was the way his fingers moved slowly in and out of her, occasionally moving out to slide over her * until her whole p-ssy seemed to swell. “What?”
“Sugar, you like a little pain with your sex.” He illustrated by swatting her butt forcefully enough to make her cry out, then pumping his fingers in and out of her vagina. Another swat. Thrusting. The burning on her bottom merged with the sizzling heat surrounding his fingers, and everything in her tightened, waiting…
She gripped the chains as her hips tried to lift.
When he withdrew, she whimpered.
At the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open, her eyes widened. Her p-ssy pulsed, so swollen and wet, and the thought of him—of Marcus—actually inside her made it all worse. She wanted this, needed him to take her, possess her all the way.
At the silence, she looked up and saw him studying her. A corner of his mouth turned up. “You"re ready for me, little slave girl,” he said softly. She felt him swirling the head of his cock in her wetness and shuddered in anticipation. He brushed it over her * and sent a tremor up her spine. She was so close.
A second later, his thick shaft slid into her, and she groaned at the astounding feeling. Then firmly, inexorably, he pressed deeper, filling her, stretching her. Too much.
“No. No, stop.” She pulled on the chains and tried to slide up and away.
His hands tightened on her hips. “You can take it, sugar.”
She gasped for air, and her legs rattled the chains uncontrollably. As she strained helplessly against the hip strap and his powerful hands, the knowledge he could do anything he wanted shot through her until she almost came right then.
Oh God.
“You"re hot and wet, li"l Gabi,” he said slowly, as if he savored each word, as if he knew the way his dark, sexy voice melted her insides. His hands slid under her bottom and squeezed. “And I intend to hammer into you until you scream for me.”
But he still moved slowly, his size almost painful, until he had sheathed himself completely inside her and his balls brushed against her buttocks. He pulled back, then eased in.
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Within a few strokes, her body adjusted and the movement of his cock turned into a slick slide of thrilling, wonderful friction.
She moaned.
“There we go.” Without warning, he slammed into her. The starburst of sensation blazed upward, arching her back. He plunged deeper—the hammering he"d promised—and her need grew. God, she wanted even more. Her hips tried to move again, jerking uselessly. She groaned.
“Let me show you why swings are fun, li"l sub,” Marcus said softly. His cock slid out as he pushed on the chains, and then he yanked the tire back, slamming her p-ssy back onto him like a pile driver. Smiling, he played the swing, back and forth, turning it slightly so his shaft pressed against one side of her vagina and the other.
So much, too much, and yet she couldn"t make it over the top. Everything coiled so tightly inside her that each exquisitely wonderful movement almost hurt.
Lovely, Marcus thought, rocking the swing enough to keep her right on top of the pinnacle. Every muscle in her body was tight, her hands clamped around the chains. And her little moans had turned to a continuous soft song of need.
He knew the feeling. His balls felt as if they were being squeezed by some ball-crushing domme as he forced his climax back. He slowed the rocking and changed his grip to the strap over her hips so one hand could keep the swing going. So should he play with her * to send her over?
No, he wanted to take her hard, have her come hard, shock her a little. Since he"d started with erotic pain, it would be fitting to finish with it. He got a good grip on the strap crossing her hips and let the tire rock away. As his cock slid partway out of her p-ssy, he slapped her ass, then yanked the swing back to impale her. To engulf his rigid shaft in her hot, wet silk. Again and again. The way she clenched with each slap almost destroyed his own control.
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 p-ssy 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 p-ssy, 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 *. No matter what might happen, for the moment, she was his. As her * 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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