Beneath the Scars

by Cherise Sinclair

  “Holt, I don’t break easy.”

  He let out a huffed breath. “No, you don’t, do you?”

  She waited.

  After a pause, he shook his head. “I love working the pediatric ICU. Children are…magic. They’re resilient. Hopeful. Motivated. But sometimes, nothing works. We had a baby, not even a year old, who was taken off life support today. The decision was correct, but he was a champ. He fought so fucking hard.” He paused, and his voice came out raw. “It’s hard to give up.”

  “He wasn’t getting better?”

  “He was born with a bad heart. It’s fucking unfair to be born with the odds already against you. He hadn’t done anything, didn’t deserve any of it.”

  Oh God, to lose a baby. Tears burning her eyes, Josie took the beer out of Holt’s hand, set it down, and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  Stiffly, he held it all in, and then his arms came around her, holding her against him so powerfully that her ribs creaked. She held him harder. If that baby had been hers, she would have been so grateful to have this amazing man taking care of her child.

  But this kind of heartbreak was the price he paid for the work he did.

  Pressing her face against his shoulder, she rubbed his back.

  Slowly, his muscles unknotted. When an owl hooted from the neighbor’s tree, his head tilted slightly as if he was letting the world back in. She could almost feel the flow of life around them refreshing his spirit—and she willed some of her own into him as well.

  Eventually, he drew away. Silently, he used his thumbs to wipe away the tears spilling from her eyes. “Thank you,” he said softly and kissed her.

  He retrieved her beer for her, picked up his, put his arm around her shoulders, and set the swing to rocking slowly. “Where’s Carson today?”

  “How’d you know he wasn’t here?”

  “No light in his room. No music from the house.” Holt ran his hand up and down her arm, leaving tingles behind. “It’s a good thing I approve of his taste in music…mostly. At least he likes Green Day and Linkin Park.”

  “Sorry if he gets too loud. We’ve battled about the volume.” She still considered the music too loud, and Carson was convinced he’d gotten the worst of the deal. She took a sip of her beer. “Anyway, it’s school vacation, and I let him spend the night with a friend.”

  “The whole night?”

  The darkly masculine question made her mouth go dry.

  A smile curved his lips.

  She swallowed hard.

  Then he tucked the hunger away and tugged a strand of her hair teasingly. “Don’t worry, pet. I thoroughly enjoyed having sex with you, but if you’re not ready to play privately, it’s all right. I don’t want you worried that having an empty house will mean your neighbor puts the moves on you.”

  She hadn’t even gotten to that worry, and he’d eased it.

  He wanted her…and backed off to keep from making her nervous.

  She leaned her head back against his upper arm. Each breath carried his clean scent. Each gentle slide of his fingers through her hair sent quivery chills along her skin. She wanted to ask him questions, just to hear his whisky-smooth voice.

  “Josie?” He set his beer down and lifted her chin. “What’s going through your head?”

  I love you. No, that wasn’t something she’d say. Probably not ever. But tonight could be hers and she could be honest about that. “I want you.”

  He chuckled. “I do know that, pet. But are you ready to show me your bedroom? Otherwise we can sit out here and enjoy ourselves in a less…compre­hensive…fashion.”

  Comprehensive sounded perfect. She wanted his hands on her. All over. And wanted to touch him in return.

  In answer, she wrapped her fingers around his hand and rose. “You never got to see all of the house. Let me show you.”

  She was a brave one, wasn’t she? As she led him into the bedroom, Holt could feel her nervousness, hear it in the heightened Texas drawl. It made him want to pull her into his arms and say there, there.

  When she stopped in the center of her bedroom and looked up at him with those wide eyes, he nearly told her to get used to having him around. Whether she realized it or not, he planned to keep her. When she’d comforted him tonight, she’d sealed her fate.

  “Um. This is my bedroom.”

  He glanced around the shadowy room, knowing she was too nervous to turn on the lights. Well, he’d give her that option…this time…but eventually, he intended to see her orgasming when the lights were on.

  The heavy wooden bed and nightstands didn’t match, were probably secondhand since her budget would be tight. Yet it was a treat to see she’d indulged her romantic nature with Arthur Rackham’s fairy prints and blue satiny, lacy bedding.

  She’d look lovely in that bedding.

  After a visible breath, she straightened her shoulders and grasped his T-shirt. Started to lift the hem.

  The action—and the sweet vulnerability in her gaze—drew out the Dom in him. Rather than cooperating, he took her wrists and crossed them behind her back. “I want your arms to stay right there until I tell you differently,” he murmured.

  The way her mouth dropped open made him grin.

  “I did mention that dominance occurs outside of the club, didn’t I?” He ran his hands through her hair, ruffling the silky strands until she looked like an annoyed Tinkerbelle. He kissed her temple, her cheek, then tangled his fingers in her hair and used it to pull her head back so he could pillage her mouth. Fuck, she had a kissable mouth.

  Releasing her…slowly…he stepped back.

  More light would be better. Flicking on the master bath light, he closed the door partially and did the same in the hallway. Enough so he could assess her responses but not enough to make her feel awkward. Eventually—if he kept her naked often enough in the Shadowlands—she’d learn to be more comfortable in her own skin.

  And she had lovely, pale skin with golden freckles spattered over her arms, shoulders, and cheeks.

  He walked back to stand in front of her and look down into her big eyes.

  “You didn’t move. That’s a very good girl.” He ran the backs of his knuckles over her washed-to-thinness white shirt and felt her nipples rise to hard peaks. No bra. His cock thickened painfully.

  With slow movements, he undid the first button on the shirt. Kissed her jaw.

  Undid the next button. Kissed her neck. She’d showered within the last hour or so…and she smelled like tropical flowers—a Florida woman with a Texas accent.

  Courageous and vulnerable. Practical and romantic…yet didn’t believe in love.

  The next button. He pushed the shirt back far enough to nuzzle the sweet curving junction of shoulder and neck.

  Her breathing deepened.

  The next button. The hollow between her breasts had a muskier scent.

  She started to tremble. Shifted her weight.

  “Don’t move,” he cautioned and felt her shiver at the sound of his voice.

  The last button came undone. Stepping back, he indulged himself in the sight of her breasts shadowed by the open shirt.

  “Holt,” she whispered.

  He moved close enough to cup her breasts, using them as playthings—and leashes. “In the club or in any sexual situation, call me Sir. It’s an audible reminder of our roles, of the power exchange we’re in. Using my name anywhere else is fine. But no matter where or when, if you’re feeling submissive, go ahead and use Sir.”

  Being new, she might not realize how easily and often a submissive could slide into handing over control and relaxing into a service state of mind.

  Her brows drew together. As aroused as she was, her mind might not be processing well. She nodded finally. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Now, baby, in any sexual situation—even if we’re not in the Shadowlands—I keep the reins. You never have to worry about how to please me, because I will tell you.”

  Her eyes got wider, yet…no fear.
If anything, she looked relieved.

  “You will need to ask my permission to come.”

  And wasn’t that the cutest glare in the world? She sure didn’t like that idea.

  “Sweetheart, scowling at me won’t change my mind. Begging sometimes works.”

  Before she could say something he’d have to punish her for, he rolled her nipples between his fingers and watched her brain shut right off. After a quick kiss, he continued, “No matter what we’re doing, I’ll never forget your safewords are red and yellow. You’re safe with me, Josie.”

  Her next breath was deeper. Easier.

  Before she got too comfortable, he moved her hands and slid the shirt off her shoulders. As the garment fell to the ground, he crossed her wrists behind her again.

  Such pretty breasts with the rosy nipples pointing outward. As he indulged in a nice long look, her face colored. “You’re gorgeous, sweetheart.”

  With one finger, he stroked the bottom curve of one breast, establishing he could and would touch her when he wanted. No need to manhandle her…one finger was all that was needed. He walked behind her and brushed his fingers over her spine, then followed the edge of her shorts from the back to the front. “Cute shorts.”

  They were gold with tiny bunnies. Another glimpse into the soft, whimsical side of the practical bartender. He undid the drawstring tie, putting a finger under the waistband to stretch it, and let go. The shorts slid down to her ankles.

  Seeing her aborted move to catch them, he managed—barely—to smother his laugh.

  “Sorry, Sir,” she whispered, her hands behind her back again.

  “Well, you might have been sorry.” He took some time to enjoy her breasts. They fit into his palms perfectly, a satisfying, sensual weight. Warm and heavy with satiny skin. Her nipples puckered into hard buds when he ran his thumbs around them.

  Her lips parted, her eyelids drooping slightly.

  Damn, he liked watching her responses.

  Crouching, he ran his hands down her waist, hips, and outer thighs. When he nuzzled the sweet spot between her hip and pussy, she trembled. He breathed her in—no perfumes, simply shower fresh and aroused woman—and wanted to toss her on the bed and bury himself deep.

  No. Tonight would be slow. An affirmation of life. For them both.

  Besides, the Dom in him would enjoy drawing out her anticipation. He rubbed his chin over her mound, letting his light stubble rasp over her delicate skin.

  Her knees wobbled. In fact, he doubted she could remain upright if he started on her pussy.

  Rising, he gripped her waist, lifted her so the shorts fell from her ankles, and sat her on the bed. “Keep your arms behind your back, baby.”

  She had the most beautiful vulnerable eyes.

  Now…what furniture and toys did he have to work with in her bedroom?

  The bed was a great height and had a lower upholstered bench at the foot. No footboard. Yeah, that would work nicely—make it easy for him to play. With his foot, he moved the bench a couple of feet out from the bed.

  He eyed her. Her need to serve also meant she wasn’t comfortable with receiving. She’d enjoy what he planned, but undoubtedly would try to give him “his turn” far, far sooner than he intended. A bit of bondage might be in order.

  The bathroom yielded a pair of scissors that he set on the nightstand.

  In the closet, he found belts and scarves, including a long wool belt from a winter coat. Perfect.

  He buckled a leather belt around her waist. “Drop your arms.” Wrapping the coat’s oversized belt all the way around her above her elbows and below her breasts, he pinned her arms to her sides.

  “Holt—um, Sir.” Josie felt her pulse pick up when she couldn’t lift her arms. Her hands were useless. She should have known he wouldn’t do simply missionary style sex. But still…bondage? “What if…” What if you leave? What if you drop dead of a heart attack?

  He studied her face and then cupped her cheek. “Because we’re alone here, any bondage I use will be possible to get out of, pet. If needed, you could work your arms out.”

  She wiggled slightly and realized it was true. It would take a while, but she could get free. Her muscles relaxed. “Thank you.”

  “No worries.” He kissed her lightly. “I like you on edge—but not terrified. Josie, for pain or pleasure, I will not give you more than you can take.”

  His gaze met hers. Under his absolute confidence and the sheer force of his personality, she…let go. The control was his.

  He nodded slightly and with an easy movement, scooped her up and laid her down on the bed. Her legs dangled off the end of the mattress.

  Well, this was different.

  He bent her right leg up, wrapped a scarf just above her knee, and knotted the end of the fabric to the right side of the waist belt. When he did the other side, her knees were secured up and close to her sides.

  “Yeah, that’s nice.” He smiled and laid his palm against her very exposed pussy. “Easy access for whatever I want to do.”

  His hand was warm, intimate, and the light pressure on her clit made her squirm.

  “Since you’re a practical woman, you probably have a battery-operated-boyfriend.” He didn’t even wait for her answer before rudely opening her nightstand drawers.

  “Don’t you dare—”

  His frown silenced her. “Best remember the terms of respect, baby. I wouldn’t want to have to punish you more than you’ve already earned.”

  “What? Earned?” When his eyebrows rose, she hastily added, “Sir.”

  Ignoring her, he made a pleased sound and pulled out her rechargeable wand vibrator. “Nice.” He flicked on the wand and smiled at the hum. After turning it off, he tossed it on the bed.

  She felt the mortified heat in her face and glared at him.

  “None of that, pet. Let me explain. If you’re single, your toys belong to you alone.” He stood at the foot of the bed and leaned over her body, bracing himself with a hand beside her shoulder. He ran his fingers through her hair—and fisted the loose strands—holding her for a deep, demanding kiss.

  Lifting his head, he whispered against her lips. “However, if you’re with a Dom, your toys get added to his arsenal…and your orgasms belong to him.”

  The words took a second to register. What? “No.”

  His look was full of sympathy. “I’m afraid so.” He kissed her again, so thoroughly her arguments disappeared, and she felt only the heat of his body over hers, the velvet of his lips, the firm grip in her hair.

  He nipped her bottom lip before kissing his way down her neck, to her collarbone, between her aching breasts. When he finally closed his mouth over a nipple, the hot, wet feeling was so intense she gasped.

  Ruthlessly, he fondled her breasts almost painfully, except she was so excited, his every touch felt amazing. Streamers of liquid heat ran down to pool in her core. He pressed the peak against the roof of his mouth and worked it with his tongue, then sucked gently.

  The tingles zinged all the way to her toes.

  Gradually, he moved lower, alternating kisses with scraping his scratchy chin over her belly until she was half-squirming, half-laughing, and totally aroused.

  Would he…

  He pulled the bench closer and sat on it, then gripped her hips and pulled her ass right to the edge of the mattress. “Perfect. I can play with your pussy while sitting down. Now that’s being indulged.”

  Before she could answer, he ran one finger between her slick folds, eased the hood up, then circled his finger around the edges of the exposed nub. The blast of heat and sensation sent fire through her veins.

  Oh. My. God.

  His fingers opened her folds more widely, and then his tongue swirled around her clit—hot and wet and far too effective.

  Her last lover, so many years ago, hadn’t known where a clit was. Master Holt not only knew but was terrifyingly good at what he did.

  Her core turned to molten heat.

  When he lifted
his head, she tried to move and grasp his hair. The restraints kept her arms in place.

  He licked his lips. “You taste like the sea, pet.”

  Oh. Was that good or bad? There was no way she’d ever ask that question aloud.

  He chuckled. “I’m a California boy, Josie. I love the ocean, and I love the way you taste.”

  The worry died before it had a chance to take her over.

  Sitting back slightly, he teased her pussy with one finger, watching her with steel-blue eyes. Stroking one side of her clit, then the other. When he rubbed over the top with a callused finger, she winced…and he returned to the sides.

  She could feel her clit swelling, hardening.

  With his other hand, he slid a finger inside her.

  An excruciatingly delicious burst of pleasure swept her body, and she moaned.

  Smiling, he pulled back and inserted two fingers, thrusting in and out with slow tortuous movements. His other finger teased her clit.

  Her whole pussy came alive and throbbed with need.

  Three fingers. His fingers were too big, almost painful and—

  He went back to two, sliding them in and out. His gaze never left her face. Leaning down, he licked over her clit. His tongue was so wet and hot as it flickered around her.

  The combination of fingers and tongue lit her up like wildfire, and the seething tension inside her grew.

  His fingers thrust in harder. Faster. His tongue worked her up and up.

  She was almost…almost…

  He lifted his head. “Do you have permission to come, little subbie?”

  “Wh-what?” He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t possibly…

  Her need was a churning, aching hunger. His fingers inside her had gone motionless, and she throbbed around him. Permission to come? She stared at him in disbelief.

  His return gaze was steady. “I don’t want you to orgasm yet, Josie. Fight it off. Can you do that for me?”

  He didn’t want her to come. But I want to. Need to. She bit her lip. “Can you do that for me?”

  She’d do almost anything for him. Panting in frustration, she fought her climax down, drawing away from the edge of coming.

  “There’s a good girl.” His approving smile sent joy singing in her veins, and then the bastard lowered his head and started licking again.