by Nina Pierce
“Wouldn’t think of it.” Derek wasn’t sure what he’d been planning when he’d realized she was at the lagoon. But plucking Sara from the depths of the ocean and ripping open his leg definitely weren’t on his dance card. He lifted the towel, now soaked with his blood. The gash was definitely deeper than anything created by even the strongest Dom whip, but by no means life threatening. He’d simply get them back to the main lodge and have someone patch him up with a couple of stitches.
He shot a look over his shoulder, dismayed that the storm had intensified.
“You’re not driving that machine back to the main lodge in this storm,” Sara said as if reading his mind.
He lifted his hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t think of it.”
“Though I’m definitely not getting out of here the way I came in.” She knelt before him, a white fluffy robe now wrapped around her petite figure. “Was that the kayak we nearly hit on our way in?”
“Seems Mother Nature’s in cahoots with Ethan.”
Sara’s expressive face scrunched in confusion.
“Let’s just say I’m glad the man has an agenda.”
“If you hadn’t found me—”
“Don’t.” He brushed the hair out of glistening eyes. “I did. We’re here. You’re safe. Let’s just focus on patching me up before I pass out from blood loss.”
She brushed away her tears, a watery laugh escaping from her full lips. “You’re hardly going to bleed out,” she said, laying out a small medical kit next to him. “I’m sure this will clean you up temporarily. I found it in the bathroom cabinets.” Sara smiled. The gesture lit up her face and sparked in the blue pools of her eyes. “Sometimes being part of the BDSM community comes in handy.” Gently lifting the towel, she let out a long, slow whistle. “Damn, you did a good job on that. Fortunately we’ve got everything we need to fix you right up.”
“I can do it myself.”
“I’m a nurse, Derek. I tend wounds every day.” She dabbed at the gash with a wet towel she’d brought from the bathroom.
Air whistled through his clenched teeth at the unexpected quick stab of pain.
The corner of her luscious mouth lifted with her eyebrow. “Though not usually on such big babies.” The cocky Sara who’d challenged him in the hall last night had returned. “Don’t you trust me…”
Master?
She may not have finished the sentence, but they both felt the power exchange the moment it happened, and Derek had no intention of losing the momentum. Ethan had offered him another chance with this beautiful woman. He’d be foolish to turn from it now. If he could get her to bare the pain bruising her soul, he could surely reach in and help her heal.
Derek leaned forward, crowding her space, his nose nearly touching hers. “I don’t think I’m the one with trust issues, Sara.” He held her gaze as the wind howled and rain lashed the windows.
She didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Didn’t blink.
But the pulse quickening at the base of her throat proved to Derek that he’d hit upon a sensitive nerve. Now, he just had to wait her out and hope she chose to open herself to him.
He sat back, giving her space to make the decision in which direction this liaison would go. “Have at it.” He motioned toward the wound on his thigh.
Despite the fact that his heart hammered against his ribs, Derek forced himself to breathe evenly. He wasn’t sure his ego could handle another blow like the one she’d dealt him last night. For some of the Doms invited to XTC Resorts, this weekend was about training. For Derek it was a chance to prove he could be a Master his subs could trust.
He needed Sara to believe he could protect her from whatever shadows chased her. Because if he understood anything about this woman, whatever it was she was hiding from scared the living shit out of her.
Almost imperceptibly, her spine straightened, her chin came up and her gaze dropped to his thighs. “I’m a nurse,” she said finally. “I cared for my ailing parents for nearly a decade before they passed. I do know what I’m doing.”
Tenderly wrapping his fingers around her chin, he brought her gaze up to his. The pain and fear filling her eyes clawed as his gut, sending his protective instincts into overdrive. “Trust that I do too.”
As if underscoring Sara’s internal fight, lightning flashed and thunder rolled through the clouds, rattling the windows, cutting the power and plunging them back into murky shadow. He heard her quick intake of breath and felt her jaw knot beneath his fingers.
Derek brushed his thumb over her bee-stung lips that had finally gotten back their rosy color. “Despite the storm, you’re safe here with me, Sara.”
Chapter Five
Safe wasn’t something Sara had felt in a long time.
There was no doubt in her mind Derek was probably a decade younger than her, but the wisdom reflected in the emerald pools of his eyes spoke of a maturity far beyond his years. She wanted to snuggle into his tender touch, surround herself in the warmth of his embrace, but she also understood it wasn’t gentleness he offered—nor what she needed.
Too many years she’d lived with the hurt and the anger, the embarrassment and the betrayal. What Derek offered, without reservation, was an opportunity to heal from all that had come before and move forward with a renewed courage—something she hadn’t had in years.
“Sara.” He spoke her name as a command, the deep timbre flowing over her, surrounding her with his strength.
In one word, he gave the power over to her. The next move was hers and they both knew it.
She’d come to this bungalow wanting to end the hold her late husband had on her. Sara had feared she wouldn’t be brave enough to journey alone through the terrible memories, but here was Derek, a Dom who offered her the opportunity to hand over the shameful truths of her past. Dare she hope that shining a light on them could chase away the ugliness casting dark shadows on her life?
Tired of carrying the burden, she nodded. “It’s much too stormy to get back to the main lodge now. There are candles everywhere. I’m sure I can find matches, Master.” Without thought, the title slipped from her lips. And just like that, they’d come back around to their natural roles.
Some things in life weren’t meant to be questioned.
“I think a little light would be a good idea,” he said. “I’m not keen on you sewing me up in the dark.” His tone dropped, shooting adrenaline through her blood and ratcheting her pulse up another notch.
She stood and began rifling through the drawers of the nightstand. “With all these candles, I can’t imagine there aren’t any… Ah, here we are.” Triumphantly, she held up a box of wooden matches, struck one and efficiently lit several candles around the hot tub, bathing them in a golden glow.
“There we are,” she said, setting two large, red pillars next to Derek on the low platform.
“Very Florence Nightingale.”
Color flooded her cheeks, and Derek laughed, a warm rumble that fluttered pleasantly in her tummy. Grateful he found humor in her discomfort over his compliment, instead of responding, she focused on finding the supplies she’d need to patch him up. “There doesn’t seem to be any topical anesthesia.”
“Then bring on the pain.”
Though he didn’t seem to get off on the deep cleaning of the cut, he didn’t wince either as she scrubbed it with antiseptic and efficiently closed it with five butterfly strips along his thigh. She soothed it with antibiotic cream and placed a large bandage over the wound. With the efficiency borne through of years of experience, she gathered the blood-soaked towel and supplies, dumping all of it in the wastebasket in the bathroom before scrubbing the remnants of his injury off her hands.
He was admiring her handiwork when she returned and dropped to her knees in front of him.
“Thank you, Sara.” His hand smoothed through her hair, his touch warm and gentle against her scalp.
She looked at him, his green eyes growing dark and heavy lidded as he stud
ied her. His hand threaded around the back of her neck, his thumb grazing the line of her jaw. Derek didn’t say a word. Didn’t change his expression. But his hunger for her was growing like the tempest slashing at the windows.
“What do you want, Sara?”
Not a command, but every word poured over her, anticipation heating her blood.
“Only to please you, Master,” she said.
“I’m a very needy Dom.” Derek leaned forward and pushed the robe from her shoulders, his lips nibbling at her collarbone. “I expect my submissives to obey my every command. I want everything from you, Sara.”
A bolt of lightning lit up the room, the answering call of the thunder punctuating her Master’s demand. She didn’t have time to contemplate the storm as his warm breath feathered over her neck and she let the thrill shimmy down her back. She felt him smile against her neck, aroused at her ability to please him.
“Are you willing to give me everything, Sara?”
Let me try. “Yes, Master.”
“You will be mine. There will be no thought. No decisions. Only obeying. You speak only when I command.” He leaned back, the gravity of her decision reflected in the deep furrows between his brows. “And make no mistake, Sara, I intend for it to hurt.”
Another flash of lightning and crashing thunder. Even nature seemed to be commanding her to push through her own insecurities and fears.
And she wanted to. Wanted what he was offering. Wanted everything he would demand from her.
“I welcome the pain, Master.”
Spreading open her robe, he laid his palm between her breasts. “Here. It’s going to hurt here.”
Heart hammering beneath the heat of his hand, her blood rushing in her ears, the storm built inside Sara, matching the angry rain lashing at the windows. Ethan had said the Doms this weekend were inexperienced, but Derek had not only bumped up against her defenses, he understood them for what they were—security against the emotional pain she’d hidden for so long. The determination in his eyes made it perfectly clear he would accept nothing less than everything. “I’m afraid.”
“I’ll be here through it all. I’ll keep you safe.”
Derek stood, pulled her to her feet and slid the robe from her arms, letting it fall to the floor. She stepped over it, feeling oddly vulnerable in her nudity as he led her to a full-length mirror across the room.
The large antique looked oddly out of place in the modern surroundings. Broad, clawed feet anchored it to the floor. The ornate silver frame curled and twisted up the sides in detailed lacework. The graceful, arched peak towered a foot over her head, and she appeared small and vulnerable in its mirrored surface.
“I want you to see yourself the way I see you,” he said. “Really see who you are, not some ideal image of yourself.” He left her to stare at her reflection.
Sara cringed at the image before her. Purple bruises were already forming on her arms and legs where she’d been battered against the rocks. Her eyes looked unusually large in her pale face, surrounded by the tangled mess of her blonde hair.
Derek returned, reverently placing several candles at her feet. Light and shadows danced along her skin, emphasizing the puffiness below her eyes and the angry cut along her right cheek. Small scratches crisscrossed her torso and she had no idea when she’d gotten any of them.
A bitter laugh nearly escaped. She wasn’t much to look at.
Pain stung her buttock and she gasped in shock. Derek stood behind her, meeting her gaze in the mirror. He shook the brush he’d used to spank her. “I know what you’re thinking, and while we’re here in this bungalow, until you use your safe word, you are mine, Sara. And everything of mine is beautiful and meant to be admired.” He spanked her again, the sound making her jump.
“Who do you belong to, Sara?”
“You, Master.”
“Everything of mine is beautiful. Say it.”
She couldn’t. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes fell shut as she worked to control the trigger hurtling her back into the past. Sara hadn’t expected Marc’s words to come out of Derek’s mouth once again. And as much as she wanted to give herself to this Dom who promised to heal her, she felt the protective walls around her heart click solidly into place.
Smack. Smack. “Don’t do it, Sara. Don’t. Shut. Me. Out.” He emphasized each word with a quick whack to her ass.
The intensity in his eyes as he wielded the brush stole her breath. Her heart beat against her ribs to the steady pounding of the rain on the roof. She wet her lips but still couldn’t find her voice. Her head shook at his command. He asked too much.
“Tell me about him,” he said.
The words were spoken evenly, but they snapped across her nerves like a jolt of electricity. She jumped when lightning lit up the room and thunder rumbled overhead. Sara wasn’t convinced Derek wasn’t controlling the maelstrom outside as he commanded her obedience. And she wanted to comply and please him with her subservience, but fear made her hesitate. No one had asked so much of her since Marc’s death.
“I can’t…It’s…Master, you ask too much.”
He left her then, Derek’s body heat no longer warm against her back. She turned in panic, willing to beg him not to abandon her again. But he’d gone only as far as the closet filled with equipment behind her.
“Don’t disobey me, Sara. I will punish you.”
Though she welcomed the physical pain her Master offered, she wanted more than anything to please him. Turning back to the mirror, she listened to him rummage through the equipment, talking to himself as he chose his instruments of punishment.
“I’m a very patient man,” he said evenly. “You may only have here and now, but I can wait an eternity to work through this. I demand everything and expect even more.”
Derek was right. The man rifling through the closet wasn’t Marc and she wasn’t the same naïve woman she’d been six years ago when she’d met her late husband. She wasn’t the innocent woman who’d taken vows of fidelity five years ago that had meant something only to her. And Sara sure as hell wasn’t the submissive who’d lost her voice in the rigors of hell.
The wind howled, splashing rain against the windows, laughing at her, but she refused to be deterred. What better place to leave all the ugliness than in the bungalow where it had all begun?
Derek returned, dropping several things on the wooden floor behind her. Her breath hitched in anticipation at the tools he would use to draw out her pain. The smattering of hair on his chest tickled her back, the solid wall of his torso comforting in her insecurity as he pressed against her. He ground his hips into her ass, his cock snuggling into her cleft, and she wondered exactly when he’d removed his swim trunks.
His hand dragged up her ribs, lifting her arm, guiding her hand to the top of the mirror. Fingers wrapped around hers, curling them around the scrollwork on the mirror’s frame above her head. Derek wrapped a soft leather cuff tightly around both her wrist and the mirror frame, repeating the process for her other arm. Her breasts rubbed pleasantly against the cool surface of the mirror, making them heavy and tightening her nipples.
He swept her hair over one shoulder. Supple leather slid up her neck and across her cheek. She filled her lungs with the heady scent, letting it carry her to the familiar place where sensation overrode thought. It wasn’t until her Master slipped it around her neck that she realized he held a collar.
“Look at it and tell me it’s not beautiful.” The words brushed along the shell of her ear.
She closed her eyes against the memories.
Smack. His hand came down on her hip. “Did I give you permission to turn away?” Smack. Smack. “Open your eyes. Stop hiding from the truth.”
Sara let the pain center her as she forced herself to obey him.
With his eyes locked on hers, his palms dragged up her torso and he filled his hands with her breasts, painfully kneading the fleshy mounds, his nails scrapping across the sensitive skin. He pinched her nipples, r
olling and stretching them between his fingers. Sublime pain jolted over her nerves, frissons of pleasure zinging down her core and clenching her womb.
“Tell me who broke your heart. Who called you beautiful?”
How did he know?
Hot pain seared across her chest as Derek deftly attached jeweled clamps to her nipples, the chain between them dangling to tickle her belly.
His mouth was on her neck, his teeth sinking deep. The sensations toppled one over the other, keeping her off balance, not allowing her time to contemplate the fear.
“Tell me. Give the pain to me.” He spoke quietly, but she felt the command riding on every word. “Trust me to help you heal.”
He pulled on the chain, agony shooting over her nerves, clenching her internal muscles and making her wet with desire. His sizable erection pressed between her thighs, fueling her desire. She wanted her Master and everything he offered. The sex, the purging—and the healing. She needed to let go. No one, not even Ethan, had ever comprehended the depth of her pain.
“My husband.”
The hand sliding down her stomach hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing its slow glide over the silken skin of her pubic bone. “You’re married?” His palm cupped her as his long fingers toyed with her nether lips and she tilted her hips forward, giving Derek more access.
“Not anymore.” The words came out on breathy pants of need.
“There’s no shame in divorce, Sara.”
“No…I…”
His fingers slid through her moisture, brushing her clitoris and stealing any coherent thought. She wanted to focus, but his teeth bit into her neck again as pain seared through her sex. Sara didn’t need to look to know it was a clamp gripping the swollen nub of her clit. It was wonderful and exhilarating and moisture seeped from her folds, dampening her thighs. The musky scent of her arousal tinkled her nose, mingling with the vanilla scent of the candles.
“You what? Why isn’t he here with you?”
Thunder rolled as if Marc demanded she stop, but Sara refused to be denied. “He died…a car accident.” The pain of the clamps seared over her nerves, making the gentle caresses of Derek’s fingers on her breasts and along her moist folds all that more erotic.
