If only

by Sinclair Cherise

  “There’s a mercy.” His mouth tightened. “I was married—and divorced—in college.”

  “Is that the wife who lied all the time?” Sally hated that he’d once compared her to some scumbag of a wife. He’d been so angry at the thought of being lied to.

  “I did tell you that, didn’t I?” Leaning back against the wooden headboard, he studied her. “And you? Are you a liar, Sally?”

  Her chin came up. “No.”

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  Frigging A. “Okay, so faking orgasms was kind of a lie. And I guess if I say, ‘I’m fine,’ even though I’m not, it’s kind of a lie too. But…” She bit her lip.

  His eyes were starting to chill, and he crossed his arms over his chest. How could he look so relaxed and so threatening at the same time? “But?”

  “But I do it because…because I don’t—can’t—share.” Don’t hate me. I don’t want you to hate me.

  “I know that.” His voice was so neutral as to be unreadable.

  “But I don’t cheat. Cheating is different. I don’t steal or betray my friends or poach boyfriends. And if you ask me if your hips look fat in a dress, I’ll tell you the truth. And—”

  When he grinned, she realized what she’d said. A flush crept into her face.

  “Next time I go out looking for a nice gown to wear, I’ll know who to take with me,” he said.

  Jeez. She looked down and muttered, “You know what I mean.”

  He tucked a finger under her chin and lifted. “I know what you mean.” His eyes were the blue of a sunlit Iowa lake. “I want to get you to the point where you can share—honestly. That time will come.”

  The relief of his understanding made her eyes swim with tears.

  He made a tsk sound, kissed her cheek, rose, and pulled her off the bed. “Time to put you back to work, little apprentice. You’ve lazed about long enough.” Beside the kitchen area was a tall cabinet. Vance opened the three-foot box in front of it. Inside were straps, ropes, gags, spreader bars, blindfolds, and hoods. What every well-equipped dungeon should have. “I want you to put these away neatly in the cabinet.”

  Still feeling unsettled, she frowned at him. Boy, this wasn’t much of a schoolgirl role-play, was it? He actually acted as if she was his apprentice. And he was being awfully polite. Bad Dom.

  After putting a few items on the shelf, she found the nipple clamps—tons of them. He’d already gone back to painting the wall. So she put some clamps on a shelf. Tossed one at him. No reaction. Put a few more clamps away. Tossed another—aiming for his ass. Fine, fine ass. Hit. No reaction. Put a few more and turned to—

  “Eeek!” Heart pounding, she looked up at the man looming over her. Vance’s face was grim, and jeez, how had he gotten so tall? He made her feel like a mouse. “Christ on a pogo stick, give a girl a heart attack, will you?”

  He opened his hand, showing her the nipple clamps.

  “Uh. Guess I just dropped them. Boss man, sir.” She gave him a simpering smile. “Ooops.”

  “I see. Well, seems a waste to not put them to use.” He undid the straps to her overalls, letting the bib flop down, exposing her breasts. He cupped his hand under one, weighing it, his thumb teasing her nipple into a point. “Odd that you’re not wearing a bra—I thought breasts needed some kind of support.”

  She stared at him. What kind of a comment was that? “Um. Guess I just forgot. Boss.”

  “Well, I don’t have time to let you run home and put one on, so we’ll just have to make do. I wouldn’t want anyone to think we’re not taking good care of our little apprentice.” He picked up two lengths of chain from the box and clipped a nipple clamp on each end of the chains. Four nipple clamps?

  “I don’t think I have four breasts, sir,” she said politely. Just trying to be helpful, boss.

  “Good to know.” He put a clamp on her left nipple and tightened it right up to where she was starting to sweat. After placing the chain around the back of her neck, he pulled the flopped-over bib back up and clipped the other end of the chain onto the left edge of the material, using the second nipple clamp.

  When he let go, the weight of the heavy denim pulled on the chain…and upward on her breast. “Ow!”

  A smile flickered over his lips. And he did the other chain the same way on her right side, running the chain around to the material on the right. Her nipples were now holding the bib of the overalls up. Ow, ow, ow.

  And the chains were pulling her nipples in an upward direction.

  He grinned. “There, see? Support for your breasts. Maybe I should patent the system.” He turned her around, the movement pulling on her breasts and making her squeak. “Keep working, little apprentice. I’ll give you a break in a couple of hours.”

  What? Fuming, her nipples burning as she bent over the box, she considered throwing something really, really heavy at him.

  Even worse, she had to pee something awful. She stood up and shifted from foot to foot, hoping he’d notice.

  He turned his back on her.

  Fine then. She started for the door.

  “Sally, you don’t have permission to leave.” He hadn’t even bothered to look at her.

  Oh God, if she didn’t get out of here, her bladder was going to explode. “Um.” She couldn’t ask. Dammit. Teeth gritted, she headed for the door.

  “Sally, did you need something?”

  Saying no…wasn’t an option. “Yes, Sir.” Maybe he’d just tell her to leave?

  “Good answer. So, ask.” His gaze met hers. Patient. Understanding. Resolved.

  Demon fucking Dom. He was going to pay for pushing her. Her hands were cold, her heart beating too fast as she tried to get the words to come out. Why was it more difficult today? She pulled in a breath. “May I go to the bathroom, Sir?” came out in a rush.

  He smiled at her, eyes lightening, and despite her anger, she felt warmed through and through. “Now that’s a good request, sweetheart. Use one in the house and bring us both back some iced tea.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  * * * *

  After stopping to pet Glock in the front yard, Galen found Sally in the kitchen, holding two iced teas. And didn’t she just look cute? In the Shadowlands, he’d thought schoolgirl clothing was particularly suited to her bubbly nature. The overalls Vance had found were even better. “Interesting way to hold up your clothes, imp.” He gave a gentle tug on one chain and she winced…and her eyes dilated slightly.

  She must have done something naughty to get in this fix. Good. He and Vance had hoped some role-playing might help her get her sass back. “What have you and Vance accomplished in the cabana so far?”

  She gave him a slightly disgruntled look. “Painting.”

  So was she missing more domination or more sex…or something else? He might start with both and see if her reactions would give him a clue. “Nothing strenuous, eh? I daresay you’ll have enough energy for this.” He unbuttoned his jeans. He’d learned the benefits of going commando when there was a submissive in the house.

  He saw the spark of delight in her eyes as well as something he remembered and hadn’t seen enough of. If she was planning mischief, the corners of her eyes tilted up slightly, as if by holding her smile back, her eyes had to do it for her. It had to be the most adorable look he’d ever seen. But…what was the imp up to?

  She turned her back to him, putting the glasses of iced tea on the counter. Facing him again, she dropped to her knees. After she pushed her braids out of her face, she enveloped him in sultry heat. Licking and sucking energetically, bobbing her head so energetically that his eyes almost crossed. She was damned good at sucking cock.

  When she lifted her mouth away, she kept one hand caressing his balls as she looked up at him. She gave him a little smirk, then rubbed her mouth with her free hand before lowering her head again. She caressed his balls for a bit, building his anticipation, before closing her mouth over his cock.

  His heart almost stopped with the shock. His cock felt as if
he’d stuck it in the polar ice cap. “Christ!” Grabbing her hair, he pulled her off. As his blood pressure lowered and the roaring in his ears receded, he could hear her giggling. Lovely sound, but not for the right reasons.

  Holding ice in her mouth to give her Dom a heart attack during a blowjob wasn’t what he called a well-behaved submissive. Don’t laugh, Kouros. He pressed his lips together. “Okay, Sally. You’ve had your fun.” Holding her in place by her braids, he zipped his jeans with the other hand. Carefully. If he caught himself in the zipper, he was liable to scream like a girl.

  She peeked up at him, starting to look a tad bit worried. Smart subbie.

  “Eyes down.” He glanced at the two drinks, chock-full of ice. “Didn’t know you liked ice play, pet. But since you do—” He tossed her belly-down over the counter, so her legs dangled. Before she could move, he yanked up her short skirt and secured both it and her with his forearm, putting more weight onto her when she started to squirm.

  The tall ceramic jar held a variety of wooden spoons. He picked one up and whapped her ass half-a-dozen times. Quick and hard. His dick perked right up at the satisfying sound of the impact on bare flesh.

  Her short scream was almost as fun.

  “I’m guessing you felt neglected,” he said, waiting long enough for the burn to decrease before adding another six to her count. “You wanted attention?”

  “No.” She gripped the other side of the counter, holding on for dear life. A nice pink began to bloom on her ass. He avoided the places that still held marks from her previous punishment and made a mental note to go lighter with the cane next time. And considering her penchant for brattiness, there would undoubtedly be a next time.

  “Your Doms are pleased to give you attention, Sally, but this might be the wrong way to ask for it.” He smiled and dipped his hand in one iced tea glass. “I’ll let you decide.” Pulling out two ice cubes, well rounded and the size of a fingertip, he pushed one in her cunt and took a second to enjoy the shrill scream before he slid the other one into her asshole.

  Her shriek of outrage made the windows rattle. He and Sam had enjoyed a conversation once about heartwarming screams. This one ranked near the top, he had to say. He leaned more weight on her ass to keep her from kicking herself off the counter.

  To top off the lesson, he reddened her cheeks with a few more whaps of the wooden spoon, concentrating on the sweet crease between upper thigh and curve of the ass, judging carefully the effect. He wanted it to sting—didn’t really want her crying. But every time she kicked, he added an extra-vigorous smack. She figured that out within three strikes. Clever girl.

  After he stopped, he ran his fingers between her legs. Nice and slick. She liked being spanked. Liked being under control. Some of her pushing was undoubtedly her way of getting more of that. He had a feeling some of it was sheer testing, her way of questioning if they’d still like her if she acted out. And perhaps if they’d manage the art of keeping control without making her feel insecure or unworthy. He stroked over her round ass, feeling her quiver under his touch.

  There was nothing unworthy about this imp, but she wouldn’t believe the words. Just time and consistency.

  So, to be consistent, should he have her finish the blowjob? No. He grinned. He didn’t want his pride and joys anywhere near a vengeful little mouth. It would be challenging to piss with a one-inch stub of a dick.

  Instead he lifted her off the counter, set her on her feet, and pointed to the floor.

  She dropped to her knees, expression fairly subdued. “I’m sorry, Master Galen,” she whispered. “I won’t do that again.”

  “Probably a wise decision,” he said gravely. “We have the mold for making ice dildos, and from your response to a tiny cube, I think you wouldn’t enjoy a larger one.”

  She actually cringed, and he had to cover his laugh with a faked cough.

  “I’ll be good, Sir,” she promised.

  Oh, he really doubted that. He pulled her to her feet and gave her a hug and a long, lingering kiss. Her stiff little body soon melted, undoubtedly like the ice in her hot cunt, and she softened against him. “I like you, Sally,” he murmured into her hair. “You’re a natural imp, and I like that part of you. We don’t want to change you—just keep you within a few bounds.”

  Her head moved up and down on his shoulder.

  He kissed the top of her head. “However, I was raised in Maine. Cold is not my friend.”

  When she giggled into his shoulder, he grinned. Yeah, this one was special.

  * * * *

  Drew slammed the door of the rental jeep as he stalked to his brother’s cabin. Fucking Feds. Fucking cops.

  He probably should shut everything down, but letting the assholes win made him want to kill something. Someone. More someones. And he didn’t want to lose a business that pulled in millions of dollars.

  Nonetheless, he wasn’t stupid. Right after the first woman he’d sold, he’d set up backup plans in case things started going sour. Today, he’d sent off the e-mails to his handful of managers to put the entire business on hold. Hopefully that would be enough to throw the Feds off the scent.

  His thin lips tightened. He’d taken precautions while setting up the network. Compartmentalization was the key. The lower levels were contracted hirelings; each knew the one overseer who hired him. The managers knew only the overseers in their area. In turn, Somerfeld contacted only the handful of managers and only through e-mails.

  But he hoped to keep the nucleus of the organization intact and ready to rebound once the FBI turned their attention elsewhere. He’d also given the managers a big bonus as an incentive to remain quiet. That was the carrot. The stick was the knowledge of how the Harvest Association dealt with informants.

  He grinned. Who would have thought his pyromaniac brother would prove so useful?

  HEARING THE CAR door slam, Ellis snapped the chain on the slave. Drew must be here. Maybe he’d have some work in mind. Ellis grinned and rubbed his thickening cock. He really enjoyed meting out vengeance for his brother. So much that he would leave behind a battery-operated wireless video camera in the room so he could record their pleading, the crying, and the screams as their skin started to crisp. A shame the cameras usually died about the same time.

  But he’d accumulated a good set of recordings. In fact, he’d viewed one last night. Oh yeah, indeedy yeah.

  He stepped into the doorway, breathing in the tang of the forest, the silence. His twin’s face was tight, brows pulled together. “Is something wrong?”

  “The Feds haven’t stopped. I shut down the network.” Drew shoved past him to enter the cabin.

  Ellis scowled. That meant no nice fires in his future. “That sucks.” He leaned against the door, watching Drew unbuckle his pants. “What are you doing?”

  “Got rid of my slave. Just in case.”

  “And you didn’t call me to kill her?” Anger welled up in him.

  “You only want to burn them, and I didn’t have time for that. She’s at the bottom of the ocean instead. And I’m without a fuck toy.” Drew nodded to where Slut knelt with her forehead pressed to the ground, ass in the air. “I came to use yours.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Thanks. And don’t break this one for a while. You’ll get no new ones until I start the network back up.”

  All bad news. He wanted a fire, to sweat at its nearness, hear the roar as it caught and grew, watch the victim’s eyes widen. The struggle. The itch was under his skin, pulling at him.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Hey guys.” Sally walked into their home office, her clothing soaked from the rain, her backpack dripping, her feet dragging. Sometimes the world just sucked. And this had been one of those days.

  “You’re running late,” Vance said without looking up from the paper on which he was making notes. The classic heavy metal of Deep Purple played in the background, showing he’d lost the toss for music selection to Galen.

  “It’s almost seven.” Galen t
urned from his computer, saw her, and narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong, imp?”

  Vance spun his chair around.

  She looked at them, one on each side of the room. Unsmiling, lines cut into their faces. They looked as grim as she felt. “Just a bad day.” She dropped her backpack on the floor and wrapped her arms around herself. Could she really smell death on her clothes, or was it her imagination? “I don’t think I like reality.”

  “C’mere.” Vance opened his arms, and she walked into them. He tucked her down on his lap, cradling her to his big chest. Over the past few weeks, she’d come to realize he gave excellent hugs, engulfing her in the wonderful feeling of being cared for. She pressed closer and rubbed her cheek on his soft T-shirt. His clean scent erased the horrible stench from her mind…at least for a moment.

  “What happened?” Galen leaned forward with his forearms on his knees, his attention completely on her. The way he so readily put aside his work to focus on her was a little disconcerting. He made her feel…special. “Sally?”

  “Nothing that bad.” She sighed. “I just don’t like dead bodies. Or violence.”

  Galen’s smile held sympathy. “I’ve heard police stations tend to have a bit of those.”

  “So it seems.” But she had her heart set on law-enforcement support. “Maybe Illinois will be quieter. I got an interview request from a sheriff outside Chicago.”

  Galen’s mouth tightened at her reply.

  “So how’s your case against the Harvest Association going?” she asked, hoping to take his frown away.

  Vance tilted her so he could see her face. “How do you know about that?” He glanced at the papers on his desk. “You can’t look through—”

  “Oh please. I have never, ever touched your desks.” Or even hacked into their computers, which she thought entitled her to a halo, for sure. “You do realize the Shadowlands submissives always learn what’s going on. Which means the trainees eventually know.”

  Vance’s smile turned rueful. “Should have known. Sorry, sweetheart, I wasn’t thinking. You’re not the kind of person to sneak.”