Chapter Twenty-two
The sound of songbirds in the garden drifted in through the open window of Zachary"s bedroom, and he smiled at the peaceful melodies.
Snuggled in the bedding, Jessica breathed slowly, still deep in sleep. One half-curled hand nestled under a round cheek. Her long golden hair spilled over the pillow, the light strands glowing against the dark fabric.
Just as she glowed like a beacon in his dark life. He pulled his chair closer and wrapped his hand around her delicate fingers. Did she have any clue how much she meant to him? He worked with children, sad, broken, abused children who"d seen more horror in their short lives than most adults. Sometimes to heal, they needed to know someone—anyone—understood their sorrow and rage and confusion. He"d listen. He"d take in their pain and release them of some of the burden.
But pain accumulated, and even the love of friends and family hadn"t been able to lift his increasing sadness. Then Jessica erupted like a small hurricane into his life. Her keen intelligence and logical mind was balanced by her spirit, her courage—and her love. She reminded him that the world held as much good as it did evil.
God, he"d almost lost her today. His shoulders tightened. Leaning forward, he pushed her hair away from her face. Silky hair—soft, soft cheek.
When she blinked, he cursed himself for his lack of discipline. She needed the sleep.
Her hands fisted, and she stiffened. He felt her fear, saw it overwhelm her.
“Jessica,” he said in a level, clear voice.
Her eyes focused on his face, and he saw—felt—relief flood through her.
“You"re safe, kitten,” he said, affirming it verbally.
She pulled in a breath, looked at the room, the bed, the window. When her eyes met his again, her smile blossomed. “You saved me.”
“I think you might have managed to save yourself.”
She considered it, his logical sub, and shook her head. “No. If you hadn"t come, he"d have won eventually. I was cuffed. Even if I"d gotten out of the van, I couldn"t run. Not after hurting my ankle.” She pouted. “I"d like to think I sprained it when I kicked his face, but I think the steering wheel did it.”
“Bloodthirsty little sub,” Zachary murmured.
210
Cherise Sinclair
“Oh sure. I saw Jang after you got through. I didn"t do nearly as much damage.”
Zachary"s hands closed as if he had the man"s neck in his grasp. He should have bloodied him a little more.
She smiled at him, her green eyes glinting with laughter. “I"m afraid you"re going to have to be a hero. Saving the subs like a proper dom.”
Saving. He frowned. “You shouldn"t have needed saving or been anywhere near those men. Jessica, why did you leave last night without speaking to me?”
He caught a flash of oh shit before she stalled. “Well.” Obviously needing to be on a more equal level, she pushed up in the bed and winced.
Dammit. He couldn"t stand seeing her in pain. Grasping her under the arms, he gently pulled her up in the bed and tucked pillows behind her back. Her face had paled. Nonetheless, he couldn"t put off this talk any longer. They"d had enough silence between them. His jaw clenched. If she wanted to leave, he needed to know.
“Now tell me. Why?”
She looked down and fingered the abrasions from the damned metal handcuffs the kidnapper had used. “Things had… You haven"t been the same. For a while.
You"ve acted so…distant. And mad at me. Every time I sassed you or anyone at the club, you"d gag me as if you didn"t want to hear me. I knew you were unhappy. I thought it was because of me.”
“But—”
“No, Zachary, let me finish.”
Zachary. He rarely heard her use his real name. Usually only in bed or when she was moved, as if it had special meaning to her. He took her hand. Everything in him wanted to object that she"d not understood, to coax her to let him fix it and make it right, to help her understand their relationship wasn"t broken completely.
Instead he tilted his head and kept silent.
“I saw you with Gabi. I could tell you had a secret, the two of you. And you treated her…differently…than the other subs. Almost like you treat me.”
He frowned. “I don"t understand.”
“The amount of caring you show me…her…is exponentially higher,” said his little mathematician. “More protective.”
“But—”
She stared at her hands again. “And then I met your sons.” She bit her lip.
“Eric doesn"t approve of me. He obviously thinks you should find someone more—
more like you. I"m just an accountant, from a middle-class family. I"m not rich or sophisticated or beautiful, and I"ve seen pictures of your ex. She is. If Eric can"t get you back with his mother, he wants you to have someone classier…and older.”
He nodded. Eric saw first with his eyes, not his heart.
Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir
211
“So. I felt like you"d pulled away, not wanting me around—you even told me not to come to the club—and I was jealous. And insecure. I thought maybe you had second thoughts about being with me.”
Past tense. She"d used the past tense. “You know differently now, don"t you?”
“Some. I understand about Gabi being a decoy, and you wanted to keep me from getting targeted. But that still doesn"t… Nolan and Beth are engaged. Dan and Kari are married and having a baby. And they all met after we did.”
He rubbed his face. The best-meant ideas didn"t always work out in the way a person expected. “Jessica, as my boy so kindly pointed out, I"m older than you are. I have grown children. You"re just starting your life, kitten, and I don"t want to push you into something you might regret. Especially since a person first entering the lifestyle can confuse the desire to be dominated with desire for the dom.”
She stared at him for a moment, and then her eyes narrowed. “We can"t have a relationship because you think I"m too young? God, Z, I"m thirty. How old do I have to be to know my own mind?”
The sparks lighting her eyes delighted him—she was rapidly returning to normal—but he had enough experience with women to realize that if he smiled, she"d throw something at him. “I might have been overly cautious,” he admitted.
“I"d say so. I"m still here, aren"t I? I know where the door is, and I know how to say ?no thanks." You"re being stupid. Get over it.”
He sat back in his chair, a bit stunned. Her cheeks had flushed with—ah, that was definitely anger. And there wasn"t a single doubt in her mind. Well, then.
Uh, oh. He"d gotten a look on his face that boded no good for her, yet everything in her rejoiced because the expression wasn"t that of a man who was bored with his girlfriend, but the possessive look of a dom.
She winced. Had she really called him stupid?
“Let me see if I have this straight,” he said in a chillingly smooth voice. “You want a commitment. And do you want children to go with that?”
She sputtered. “You make it sound like, ?Here"s your order. Do you want fries with that?"”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, I want fries—I mean children. With you.” Telling him about her hopes made her feel as if she stood naked on a cliff in a cold wind. Why could they discuss everything else, but this…this seemed harder? “I want at least one baby, maybe two. And considering how rude one of your kids is, I"ll probably do a better job of motherhood than your ex.”
His lips twitched as if he"d started to smile. But this baring the soul was too one-sided, and she faltered. “W-would you want more children?”
He steepled his fingers and gave her a level look over the top. “Jessica, I work with children. I like children. And I"d enjoy actually being present this time. I"ve 212
Cherise Sinclair
always regretted being out of the country so much when Eric and Richard were growing up.”
Oh. She breathed out as her ballooning anxiety started to deflate. “Really?”
“Really. And maybe I should add that Eric asked me to convey his apologies for his rudeness.” Z smiled. “He"ll come around, kitten. Now go on, give me the rest.”
The rest. She mustered her thoughts, lined up his objections. Her wants had been tabulated; she needed to sum it all up. Like their ages. The idiot. “Okay, you"re older. Not much, really. And considering you love staying in shape and I refuse to run, we"ll probably get all old and crippled at the same time. If not, then I"ll learn to use a cane, and I"ll get to beat on your ass for a change.”
He laughed, actually laughed, and she grinned. Maybe her hopes wouldn"t materialize, but she felt the healing between them, the sense of rightness return.
“You are an awful submissive,” he said softly. “Quite the brat. Are you going to also address that small problem of yours now?”
She hunched her shoulders. He was tired of her mouthiness, wasn"t he? Her hopes shriveled. Then she remembered what Gabi had said: “No wonder Z adores you.” The jerk was playing his psychology tricks on her. She pushed her hair back over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose at him. “Nope. You like me as I am.”
He shook his head, smiling faintly. “No, Jessica—I love you as you are.” He rose and stripped the covers right off her, and she realized he"d removed her clothes when he"d helped her to bed. She squeaked and instinctively grabbed for the sheet.
Grasping her forearms, avoiding the sore spots from the cuffs, he looked into her eyes. “I won"t restrain you…today…since you"ve had enough of that. Instead, you will turn over and kneel. Hold on to the head of the bed. Open your legs to me.
For every time you move from that position, I"ll add another swat from Mistress Anne"s favorite paddle.”
She winced. The domme had a paddle with MINE carved out, so a smack not only pinkened a butt cheek but left raised white areas spelling out the word. He watched, his jaw stern, as she rolled over onto her knees and grabbed the headboard.
“Wider, Jessica.”
Oh, God. But she felt moisture gather between her legs and how her heart rate hammered. She looked over her shoulder and saw his gray eyes darken with pleasure as he looked at her. Her excitement skyrocketed. His ruthless hands opened her even more widely, and then he touched her, running his fingers through her folds, teasing her * until she squirmed. Dammit, a year ago he"d scared her with how well he could play her body. Now he was terrifying.
She heard him unbuckle his belt and open his slacks. He came up behind her, his knees between hers. The coarse hair on his thighs teased her buttocks. Oh God, she needed him so badly, she whimpered.
He pulled her back against his chest, turning her slightly. Threading his fingers in her hair, he tethered her as he took her mouth, his lips firm, his kiss Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir
213
blatantly hard and possessive until she felt as if she was drowning in sensation.
Held by his fist in her hair, his mouth, she couldn"t move as his free hand played with her breasts. He teased her until they swelled, and each pinch of her nipples sent a sizzling current of electricity to her p-ssy.
Until her need stretched out past endurance. She burned. When her bottom pushed back against his thick erection, he freed her lips long enough to let her whine. “Pleeease.”
His almost painful grip on her hair kept her head tilted up and back as he studied her for a long moment. Her sex throbbed in time with her pulse; her urgency grew. Then he rubbed his cheek against hers. “I believe I"d like to hear more begging first.” And he released her hair, sliding his hand to her p-ssy instead.
He caged her there, one hand rolling her nipples as his other traced figure eights around her * and entrance. Too light, dammit.
He changed to firm, slow strokes. Too slow, dammit. Sadistically, he drove her upward at a snail"s pace until she reached the edge, her legs trembling, her head back against his shoulder, her hands white-knuckled from trying not to shift position.
“God, please.”
His finger paused and then resumed circling her *. She pushed her hips forward. If he"d just go over the top of it…
He released her breast and set his hard arm across her pelvis, pinning her tightly against him, permitting her bottom no movement at all. His finger circled again.
Her whole body shook. “I can"t take it anymore. Please.” She used her ultimate weapon. “Master, please, I love you…”
His low, satisfied laugh almost sent her over. “Clever little sub,” he murmured in her ear and nipped her earlobe. When he took his hand from her p-ssy, she groaned in frustration.
“Shhh.” He swirled his cock in her wetness and brushed the velvety head against her *.
Oh yes. She held her breath. Please please please.
And then he drove into her with a long, heavy thrust, filling her to the point of pain.
“Aaaah.” So thick and hard and… She strangled on the next cry, panting at the incredible feeling of him, at the way her body melted under his firm hands.
Merciless thrusts bent her forward. Only her grip on the headboard and his iron-hard arm across her pelvis kept her upright. He pushed her knees farther apart and set a finger on either side of her * so each powerful thrust tightened the skin over it and sent forks of desperate pleasure careening through her body. Her toes curled, and her fingernails squeezed the headboard, the need to come building higher.
214
Cherise Sinclair
Something was different, but she couldn"t think, her attention narrowed until she felt only his fingers stroking over her * and the thick, hot slide of his cock. He held her right at the edge as she shook uncontrollably.
“Tradition says a man should be on his knees when he proposes,” he murmured in her ear and pushed farther inside her until she moaned.
Wait. “What?”
“I"m a traditional man, after all.” He kissed the little spot right under her ear, sending goose bumps over her skin. “I love you, kitten. Will you marry me?”
He drove into her harder, until she felt the jolt of each thrust deep in her belly.
And then he slowed, leaving her teetering on the precipice of an orgasm. “Answer me now, Jessica.”
Her vision blurred as she only clung to this world by her fingertips. Oh God.
“Yes. Yes, yes.”
“Excellent.” His rhythm changed. His thick cock stretched her with each deep plunge, and as he withdrew, his finger would slide up and over her *. Her engorged nub tightened more and more, and her p-ssy clenched around him. Her orgasm rolled toward her as inevitable as the turning of the tide.
She poised on the crest for one agonizing second, and then her insides exploded into pleasure so intense the room blurred and only his hard hands seemed to hold her in this universe. She convulsed around him, wave after wave consuming her until even her fingers tingled with the sensations.
As she gasped for air, he murmured into her ear, “However, when we"re old, I will still keep the cane.”
Her choked laugh turned to a yelp when he pinched her *…and she came again.
A second later, he drove into her far enough to bump against her womb. His hands tightened on her hips. As he pulsed inside her and his heat filled her, she realized what had changed.
She"d heard no crinkling sound of a condom wrapper. His cock felt different—
velvety and hot and real.
His big hand splayed over her abdomen, and in a dangerously low voice, he murmured, “We"ll get started on those children right away.”
* * *
“Good morning, Mr. Atherton.”
Marcus forced his eyes open. A figure blurred, then came into focus. A gray-haired nurse, wearing green scrubs with pink dancing bears. She pulled his covers down to his waist. White gauze dressings covered his shoulder, and it hurt.
Some of the fog cleared from his brain. He"d been shot. Had surgery. His mouth felt like it had the day after he"d discovered tequila. “Uh.” He swallowed and tried again. “Good morning. What time is it?”
Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir
215
She nodded at a clock on the wall. “Still early. My name is Mary, and I"m your nurse today. Your doctor should be in soon to do the first dressing change. Can you give me a number for how much pain you"re in—on a scale of one to ten, where one is almost nothing?”
His shoulder hurt like hell. “About a three.”
She gave a gravelly laugh. “You men. Try again and be honest this time.”
With a wry smile, he admitted, “Seven.” She"d make a good domme.
“"Bout what I figured.” She held up a little device attached to the IV. “I showed you this yesterday, but I doubt if you remember.” She pushed the button. “I just gave you a dose, and you should feel better in a minute or two. Next time, when your pain hits around four or so, push the button. It won"t let you punch it too many times, so you can"t overdose. Got it?”
He nodded and realized his head hurt too. Damn pipe-wielding bastard.
“Breakfast will arrive shortly. And your grandparents said they"d visit this morning, if you don"t remember.”
He frowned. Had Gabi been with him? “Was anyone else here yesterday?”
“Oh yes.” She smiled. “A very beat-up and exhausted young woman kept you company from the minute your grandparents left the room until they returned.”
The pleasure that she"d cared enough to watch over him was swamped by his concern. “She should have been in a hospital bed herself.”
“She wasn"t about to budge. She even dodged the Feds looking for her.”
“Stubborn little brat,” he muttered.
The nurse smiled and turned her attention to getting his temperature and checking his lungs. By the time she left, the pain medication had kicked in, and he sighed in relief. Nasty things, bullets. They"d been lucky though; he and Gabi could easily have died. Instead she was battered but alive. And this hole in his shoulder would heal up fast enough.
For a few minutes, he worked on separating his anesthetic-induced dreams from reality. Too much of yesterday seemed like a nightmare—his fear that they"d arrive too late, that Gabi"d be hurt. The box sliding off the dock. Hell, it had all been too close. Another couple of minutes and the boat would have left with her on it. The thought darkened the room for a moment.
He touched the side of his head, fingering the tender lump. He owed his little trainee his life. Instead of giving up, she"d not only gotten free but flung herself to his rescue. He chuckled, remembering how the bastard had toppled when she tackled him. So brave. No cringing on the ground for his spitfire.
Or going into hysterics afterward. He still couldn"t believe she"d snuck in here to check on him. She had incredible loyalty and courage—qualities he"d not considered essential in a lover—but perhaps his vision had been narrow.
He glanced at the door. Dammit, he wanted to see for himself she was all right.
216
Cherise Sinclair
He frowned at the memory of her in his room. Blood on a swollen lip, her cheek scraped and raw. Whispering to him, asking him to wake up. “Sorry…” Had she said she was sorry? For what?
“It should have been me.” His mouth tightened as her low husky voice sang through his memories. What the hell did that mean? His eyes narrowed. She"d kissed him…and said good-bye. Not See you later. Not I’ll visit tomorrow. ―Good-bye.‖
An ominous feeling took up residence in his gut. Spotting a phone, he reached over, stifled a groan when he jarred his shoulder, then dialed. Her number rang and rang before a recording stated it was no longer in service.
He scowled, trying to think despite the fogginess from the pain meds. Her phone… Ah, she"d probably received it for the decoy job. He stiffened. What about her apartment? Was she even in Tampa?
“Hey there, boy.” His grandfather stepped into the room and stopped for a thorough scrutiny. A smile creased his leathery face. “You look better today.”
“Thank you, sir.” Marcus smiled and held his hand out to shake.
His grandmother followed, bending to give him a gentle hug and kiss. Her eyes teared up. “We were so worried,” she said, smiling at him. “Your mama called.”
“I hope you told them not to come. Marissa needs them more.” On complete bed rest in the last month of her pregnancy and with two children under five, his sister needed all the help she could get.
“They agreed only if we both call them daily.”
“That"ll work.”
“Since when do attorneys involve themselves in shoot-outs, boy?” Ex-Judge Atherton pulled up a chair, obviously preparing to show he hadn"t lost a jot of his cross-examination skills since retirement.
“Complicated story.” How to explain his relationship with Gabrielle? “A woman I…know…was kidnapped, and a friend and I assisted in locating her.” Not a bad summary, he decided, then screwed it up by adding, “A bullet is a small price to pay to get her back.”
His grandmother"s eyes widened. “Really? Is she the woman we met last June?
Celine?”
Marcus smothered a smile. When Celine had joined them for dinner one evening, his grandparents had been…polite. Their reaction to her had added weight to his decision to step back. He didn"t want a surface-sweet, manipulative woman; he wanted one who"d yell at him to his face, one who could keep him as fascinated as Gramps was with Nana.
In the lifestyle, his grandmother would be known as a brat. “No, Nana, you haven"t met her.”
“Are we likely to?” she asked bluntly.
Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir
217
He smiled at the thought of a meeting. Gabi had an effect on others like the spring sun on flowers, and it wasn"t because she was a pushover, but because she liked people. Despite her sassy mouth, she cared, and they could feel that. The little brat would probably give his domineering grandfather a rough time, and Gramps would love it. “I very much hope so, yes.”
“Was she the woman in here yesterday?” Nana asked.
“No one was in here with him,” Gramps said.
“Remember when we returned from the cafeteria? A young lady came out of Marcus"s room.” She paused. “The same one who sat in the waiting room the entire time we were there.”
His grandfather frowned, his bushy brows forming one line as he thought.
“The one who kept the little teen from having hysterics?”
Nana nodded.
“Curvy. Fair with light red hair.” He snorted. “And a blue streak in it?”
“That"s her,” Marcus said, smiling.
“She looked like somebody beat the hell out of her.” His grandfather"s face hardened. “Did you get the bast—bad guy?”
“We did.”
“All right then.” Blue eyes the same color as Marcus"s zeroed in. “You going to get the girl too?”
“I am.”
218
Cherise Sinclair