Masters of the Shadowlands 7 - This is who I am

by Sinclair Cherise

  “You-you-you bastard!”

  “If you figure to sit and stew until they show, think again.” As she struggled, he unzipped her jeans and shoved them and her underwear down to hobble her ankles.

  “Dammit, let me go.”

  “Nope.” He dug his fingers into the last remaining welts on her ass, pulling her against him. With an unbreakable grip on her nape, he held her for his kiss, taking and taking until she went limp against him. Until she kissed him back.

  Goddamn, the woman could kiss. As he hardened, he rubbed his dick against her and felt her resistance melt. My woman. Reluctantly, he released her lips and lifted his head. “Cooperate and we finish fast. Otherwise your children will have to wait on the porch while you’re busy in here.”

  Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.” Her pants pinned her legs together, and he had to work to push his hand between her thighs. But there he found her wet and ready. She trembled when he stroked over her pussy. She heated up fast. For him. The knowledge was a bone-deep satisfaction.

  He circled her clit, pushed inside her entrance, then circled again. Fast, Davies. Remember? He wanted to linger and play until she screamed his name in frustration, but with a resigned sigh, he pulled her T-shirt up and off, then her bra. Hand between her shoulder blades, he bent her over, then positioned her hands on the corner shower seat. “Keep them there.”

  “Sam. My children will—”

  When he slapped her ass in reprimand—and to please himself—the sound echoed beautifully in the big tile shower. How many years had it been since he’d fucked a woman in a bathroom?

  As the water beat on her ass, her bent-over position showed a hint of her glistening pussy, more of her anus. Nice. Even nicer, she stayed in place, and her face showed only arousal.

  He rubbed the sting from her ass, pulled her labia open, and pushed his cock in an inch. Not roughly—she was still too emotionally fragile for that—but firmly. Had to be careful, but her wetness and low moan of pleasure said he was on the right path.

  She was hotter than the shower, wetter, and tight enough to make him struggle for control. He pulled out halfway. When he thrust in all the way, the zing went straight to his balls.

  Her ass tilted up slightly; she wanted more. Goddamn, she was cute.

  He bent over her back. As his dick pressed deeper, she squirmed, taking him to the hilt. Burying his face in her lavender-citrus-scented hair, he reached around and cupped her breasts. Soft as anything he’d found in his life. He kneaded them and pinched her nipples hard enough to have her whimpering and trying to pull away. But his chest pressed down on her, his dick impaled her; she wasn’t going anywhere. Fucking nice. Her hot, slick cunt tightened each time he tugged on her breasts.

  As the pain fed her arousal, her hips started to wiggle. He yanked her hair, pulling her head up as he drove into her. “Give me more.”

  Her moan was like food for a starving man.

  She certainly wasn’t thinking about anything but him. And he was going to push her hard enough that when her children arrived, she’d be glowing. So any guilt they tried to lay on her would slide off.

  He coated his fingers with cream rinse and with the next thrust of his cock, he breached her asshole with a finger.

  She gave a strangled gasp and attempted to straighten.

  He leaned forward and gripped her shoulder, holding her down. “Stay put, missy.” But he paused to check her response. Combining rough sex and anal sex might trigger some bad memories. “We at green?”

  As a fine trembling shook her body, her head bowed. Her whisper was barely loud enough to be heard over the water. “Green.”

  He smiled. Not only did taking it in the ass wake up every nerve down there, but it was also the pinnacle of surrender. Linda was giving him her submission.

  So beautiful and loving and responsive—she warmed his heart. He ran his hand over her back. “Good girl. Now stay there.” Spreading his legs for balance, he thrust his cock in deep, pulled back, and slid his finger into her ass. Alternating each until he could almost feel the humming in her body. He added another finger in her asshole, heard her breathing catch. “Someday, you’ll take my cock there.”

  When a tremor shook her body, he grinned.

  But time to head for the finish line. “Don’t move.” As she braced her arms on the corner seat, he reached around her with his free hand and fingered her clit, then hammered into her pussy and thrust his fingers into her ass. Deliberately overloading her senses, he drove her hard, not easing up at all.

  He could feel her legs shaking. Then her cunt tightened around his cock, her ass around his fingers. Her clit was fully unhooded, begging for more. Almost there.

  Her neck arched, her body froze, and she came with a high wail that echoed off the tiles and made him grin.

  As her pussy squeezed around his cock, he released his control and let her cunt suck him dry. With a low groan, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her up.

  Although he could have stayed right there, buried deep, he felt her knees threatening to buckle. With a sigh of regret, he pulled out. After putting her on the seat, he washed up.

  He grasped her jeans, still around her ankles. “Lift your legs.”

  She lifted one pretty leg, then the other. As he pulled her to her feet, she muttered, “You’re such a jerk.”

  Hard to get offended when her voice was still husky from panting and coming. Still…no chance at punishing a little submissive should be overlooked. “For that, I’m going to spank you later,” he whispered in her ear.

  She stiffened, making him grin. And the redhead would get off on being spanked—he’d see to it. He pulled her closer, feeling her softness all along his front.

  Some people played in the bath with rubber ducks. Damn fools. Nothing was better than a flushed, trembling woman, scented with satisfaction.

  After pushing her under the spray, he scrubbed her, making her dance as he played with her pussy and cleaned her tender little asshole.

  Might be fun to see how sore she was there later tonight.

  After he pulled on clean jeans and a work shirt, he helped her dry off, then gave her a set of sweats that would fit almost anyone. Ugly but adequate. Before she could complain, he warned, “Better hurry. Your half hour is almost up.”

  As she glared, he smothered a laugh and prudently left.

  Did she realize he enjoyed pissing her off, just to see that cute expression on her face?

  After checking the parking area, he knew the kids hadn’t arrived yet. Soon though. He considered the next hour or so and shook his head ruefully. Be a rough evening. Lots of waterworks.

  Might be smart to plan a distraction. He rubbed his chin. Maybe Nicole would like to join them.

  * * * *

  Linda rose from the porch swing as her children ran up to the house. They were all right, no bandages, no limping, no scars. But they looked…awkward. Unsure.

  Old memories flowed through her. Charles squealing with laughter when he’d taken his first step and landed on his diapered bottom. Brenna’s perpetually scabbed knees. Their bickering when Charles climbed a tree and Brenna couldn’t. Their angelic faces when asleep. Her eyes blurred with tears. God, she loved them.

  “Mommy.” Brenna flung herself into Linda’s arms.

  Charles wrapped his arms around both of them. His cheek against her temple was wet, and Brenna was sobbing. What in the world had Sam said to them?

  But now, now, she reveled in having her children back, in holding her girl, in trying to hug Charles and, as always, being shocked that he was taller than she was. Her babies had grown up, and she should treat them like adults. Talk over the problem. “Let’s sit down, guys,” she said to Brenna, then squeezed Charles’s hand.

  As she took a seat on the swing, she noticed the end table held an iced tea, a root beer, and a Pepsi. Sam. But how did he know the children’s preferences? She glanced around and saw him strolling toward the barn with C
onnagher trailing along. Were sadists supposed to be so tactful?

  Brenna joined her on the swing, and Charles pulled a chair so close their knees touched.

  “Now, tell me what’s going on.” Linda strove for an even voice, knowing that only Sam’s nonchalance—and shower diversion—had prevented her from fretting herself sick.

  Brenna’s eyelids were red and swollen. “Your friend, he said…” She choked, and tears ran down her face.

  Linda turned to Charles.

  His hands were in fists on his knees. “He told us what you went through. Mom, we didn’t know. We would never… We didn’t know!”

  Sam, that rat bastard. She sighed. Sam wouldn’t have exaggerated or lied. He would have given them only the truth. “I see.”

  “You should have told us.” Brenna had a death grip on Linda’s hand and now gave it a shake. “Why didn’t you tell us how horrible it was?”

  “I…” Linda blinked back her own tears. Having her babies so upset made her chest hurt. “I didn’t want… It was hard enough on you, just hearing I’d been kidnapped. You didn’t need more.”

  “You tried to spare us, and so we dumped all over you.” Charles gave a half laugh and opened her root beer. His hand trembled as he handed her the can, then gave Brenna her iced tea. “Your friend is pretty protective.”

  “I’m sorry. Sam shouldn’t have—”

  “He should.” Charles’s lips firmed. “Thank God, he did.”

  Brenna leaned against Linda. “We needed to know, Mommy.”

  Brenna hadn’t called her Mommy in years. Linda felt a tear escape. Somehow, she had a feeling she’d never have the heart to yell at Sam for interfering.

  “Can you forgive us?” Charles had never lacked the courage to admit his mistakes. “Forgive me?”

  Brenna snorted, snuggling closer. “She already did, dummy.”

  “I did.” Linda slid a few inches over on the swing, making room for her boy on her other side. Three was crowded…but wonderful.

  * * * *

  Sam did his evening chores early since he’d have company for supper. Be odd to have a full table. When his father had been alive, neighbors, friends, and relatives had often stayed for a meal. His stepfather had changed all that.

  After a glance at Linda and the kids on the front porch, he and Conn swung around and used the back door.

  Potatoes and chicken went in the oven to bake. Hopefully the kids weren’t vegetarian, but he put together a big green salad just in case.

  Through the open front door came only murmuring. No wailing. No shouting. Good sign.

  Even as Conn gave a happy bark and charged out the screen door, Sam heard tires on the drive. Nicole must have arrived. After grabbing a beer, he stepped out onto the porch. All three on the swing showed signs of a fair amount of tears, and goddamn, he hated seeing Linda upset. If she cried from a flogging or spanking, that was acceptable—even enjoyable—but this was a stab in the gut.

  Yet the three were pressed together as close as they could get. All better, as Nicole would say. Now they needed time to get back to normal. He gave the kids a firm stare. “You’ll stay for supper. My daughter will join us.”

  Linda gave him a startled look, then dimpled as her children nodded agreement.

  Good enough. He leaned against the side porch railing and watched Nicole jump out of her Volkswagen Beetle. Back when he was young, most Bugs were splashed with paint in varying designs. Guess he should be grateful hers was merely bright yellow. She wore her usual jeans and layered tank tops, and—he sighed—she’d dyed her short hair black. Women. No man could understand them.

  She trotted up and gave him a fierce hug. “Good timing, Dad. I didn’t have a thing in the fridge, and I’m starving. What’s for supper?”

  He hugged her back, his pride in her as uncontrolled as a wildfire. Tough. Smart. Compassionate. How’d he gotten so lucky? Arm around her, he turned toward the others. “Linda, this is my daughter, Nicole. Those are Linda’s kids, Charles and Brenna.” He waited until they finished with the polite greetings. “Nicole, give Charles and Brenna a tour while Linda and I finish cooking. Figure forty-five minutes.”

  “Sounds good.” She went up on her tiptoes and whispered, “Bad Daddy. What did you do to them?”

  He choked down a laugh as Nicole waved the other two toward the yard, saying, “What do you want to see first?”

  As the three headed down the steps, Charles asked her, “Aren’t you in my sociology class? Mondays at ten?”

  “I knew I’d seen you before. What’s your major?”

  Sam shook his head. Amazing how well kids could rebound. After setting his beer on the end table, he joined Linda on the swing. When he put his arm around her and pulled her closer, she sighed and snuggled in. A worry drained away; she wasn’t furious with him. “All made up?”

  “We are.” She gave him a glare, although her puffy eyes and tear streaks removed the power. “What did you tell them, Sam?”

  “Just the truth.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and pulled her closer for a slow kiss. “I can understand why you didn’t share with them, but not knowing caused a rift between you.”

  “Yes.” She yanked his hair lightly. “I should wallop you for making them cry, but thank you.” Her breath hitched. “God, Sam, thank you. I have my babies back.”

  He understood her relief. He and Nicole had gone through a few ugly battles. Felt like a hole in the heart when she was mad at him.

  They rocked for a while as the children stopped at the fountain in the front yard circle to admire the koi, then headed for the pasture behind the stable. The horses, ever greedy, trotted to the fence for handouts. Above the orchards, puffy clouds broke up the blue of the sky. The cooling air held the scent of the ocean mixed with the pastures. Next to him, Linda smelled of his soap, and he liked it, possessive bastard that he was.

  “Come and set the table for me,” he said eventually and hauled her to her feet.

  “Five of us,” Linda said. As he pulled out the chicken and potatoes, she added a leaf to the table and found place settings.

  The thumping of feet and laughter came through the screen door as the kids stopped on the porch to finish their drinks. Nicole’s clear voice drifted in. “Dad, kinky? Oh, somebody said something once, but ew… Thinking of my father having sex makes me want to bleach my brain, right?”

  Linda snorted and flashed him a grin.

  “Goes both ways. Don’t like thinking of Nicole with some asshole,” Sam muttered. “When she started dating, I hung a bullwhip by the door. Just in case…”

  And why the hell should that make Linda bust out laughing?

  * * * *

  After a long, cheerful supper, Linda’s children gave her warm hugs and followed Nicole out to the cars. Back to their lives.

  As Linda strummed Sam’s guitar, her eyes welled with tears…again. The possibility of losing her babies had shaken her more than she’d ever want to admit. Bless Sam.

  At her smothered sob, he glanced up and, seeing her tears, shook his head in reproof. But he didn’t speak, just continued braiding leather in an intricate pattern around a whipstock. His very silence wove a spell of peace in the room.

  And as she watched the sureness of his lean fingers, she felt a flush of heat from her toes to her fingers. She remembered all too well those hard hands on her body. Wanted his hands on her again. Honestly, she was turning into a nympho.

  At my age. How funny—both of them had adult children. She smiled and switched to fingerpicking an old ballad. Sam had a lovely daughter. Intelligent, friendly, and quirky with outrageous opinions on everything, ranging from Tampa politics to earthworms. Sam had merely listened with laughter in his eyes. He never said anything openly affectionate to his girl, nothing like the “I love you’s” that she and her children had exchanged, but now and then, he’d wrap an arm around the girl’s waist and give her a squeeze or ruffle her spiky black hair. The love was there.

  Nicole’s
comment about not wanting to know about her father’s sex life had been…interesting. Then again, Sam had said he didn’t bring women home. Not that he ever explained any more about that. Or anything. She frowned down at the strings of the guitar. Was that reticence who Sam was, or was there another reason? Sometimes, it would be so much easier to talk things over if she really knew him.

  When he met her eyes, she realized she’d been staring at him. He gave her a half smile. “Let me put this away, and we can watch a show if you want.”

  “Okay.”

  After nudging Conn over so he could rise, Sam walked out of the room.

  Linda returned the guitar to its rack and curled into a corner of the couch, trying to muster up her courage. With no fire in the fireplace, the room seemed to have chilled. She considered pulling out her basketry. Her fingers needed something to do.

  Big hands closed around hers. “What’s bothering you, girl?” Seated on the oversize leather ottoman, Sam studied her face.

  She cleared her throat. “About today.”

  He waited.

  Darn him, it would help if he prompted her or something. “I-I appreciate what you did. To get my children back. I guess I won’t kill you for interfering.”

  His lips quirked. “Guess I can sleep easy tonight.”

  Hitting him now would be unwise. “About the shower. I wanted to…” There was no easy way to talk about this. How did other submissives manage?

  His eyes grew intense. “Just spit it out.”

  “I’m submissive.”

  “Yes.”

  “But I can’t be that way except…”

  “Do it now, slut.”

  “Present yourself to the buyer, slut.”

  She bit her lip as nausea roiled inside her.

  He made a noise in the back of his throat, then plucked her from the couch and sat with her in his lap.

  “Sam!”

  His left arm curved around her shoulders, holding her against his chest. With his right hand, he tilted her head up, brushing his thumb over her chin. “See if you can talk easier like this,” he said.

  She curled her fingers around his forearm. He’d derailed her thoughts. “I can’t figure it out.”