Masters of the Shadowlands 8 - If only

by Sinclair Cherise

She stared back. He was just plain gorgeous, his size and big nose keeping him from being too pretty, but otherwise, he’d take the lead in the hottie category. The laughter lines fanning out from his eyes contrasted with the square jaw and firm lips that warned he could be a very, very dangerous man.

  She felt her nipples contract as he spiraled in toward the aching peaks.

  Then Galen massaged her calf, hard enough to hurt. Taking his time. When he finally moved to her left calf, the right was gloriously limp and happy.

  Vance’s fingers closed on her left nipple, teasing and sweet, and her clit began to tingle. Galen said he wouldn’t play with her pussy, but her body wanted sex. Now.

  Vance moved down to her legs.

  Galen took his place. He cupped her breasts and pinched one nipple. Controlled but hard. Her back tried again to arch. Electricity sizzled straight to her core.

  With her legs roped together, Vance’s confident hands stroking up and down the front of her thighs were tantalizing her aroused clit.

  Wetness seeped into her briefs. Like a drug, lust pulsed in her bloodstream. What were they doing to her?

  Galen switched to her right breast, and the cruel pinch was a shocking contrast to Vance’s easy massage. He rolled her nipples, one and then the other, relentlessly enough to make her squirm and test her straps. Nothing gave.

  She made a garbled sound through her gag.

  Galen’s smile flashed white, transforming his stern face into sheer sexiness and increasing her nervousness. She couldn’t fall back on sarcasm. Had been completely silenced. A shiver shook her as the last lingering hope of manipulating them disappeared.

  “That’s the girl,” Galen murmured. “Give it up.” He closed his hands on her breasts, massaging powerfully enough to approach pain, and she felt her tissues swelling, tightening the skin, increasing the sensitivity.

  Vance had reached the tops of her thighs and skimmed his palms upward past her pussy on each side to stroke over her briefs on her mound.

  Her clit begged to be touched—and the instinctive effort to open her legs failed. The ropes kept them pressed firmly together. A crease flickered in Vance’s cheek as he ran his finger next to the strap crossing her belly, then glided back to her pelvis.

  Her body tensed—oh please, touch lower—and then Galen’s hand curved around her throat. Not pressing, just there…yet a very palpable threat. Her gaze shot to his unreadable face. His eyes were fixed on her.

  Vance scraped his fingernails along the top of her low-cut briefs, on her tender belly. The skin tingled in his wake.

  “Pretty Sally,” Galen murmured, “can’t move, can’t yell.” His lips curved slightly. “Can’t come.” His hand still rested ever so gently on her throat in an unstated threat.

  He kissed her cheek, his lips grazing her jaw, along her neck. His scent was spicy with a subtle richness, and she breathed him in.

  Vance licked over her left nipple.

  Her brain spun and threw her thoughts into disarray. Gentle and painful, sweet and cruel.

  Her breasts ached; her pussy throbbed. Burning. Needing. Vance nibbled lightly on her bare shoulder and down her inner arm. His lips were warm, firm, and velvety contrasting with the slight scrape of his five-o’clock shadow.

  Galen lightly bit her right nipple, sending a wildfire of sensation to her clit.

  Oh God. She couldn’t think.

  As Vance pressed a kiss into her palm, Galen licked each peak, leaving them wet.

  Vance’s lips closed around her thumb. He sucked lightly…and it felt as if he were sucking on her clit. Her thigh muscles tensed as if she could draw him to the ball of nerves.

  He moved to her index finger. And sucked.

  Galen blew air on her nipples, turning them impossibly tight, then nibbled each one. Rougher, his bites harder, until she was at the whimpering edge of pain—making her want, want, want.

  When he straightened, her breasts were almost painfully swollen. “Look at me, pet.”

  Her eyelids drooped as she obeyed. Her body felt cocooned in sensation.

  His eyes were black without a glimmer of light as he stared at her, absently caressing her breasts. His doll to play with.

  Vance rested his palm, then his weight on her mound, creating a growing sense of needy pressure.

  Her body thrummed with arousal, begging for more. Begging that they make her come. She managed to drag her gaze from Galen’s, only to be caught by Vance’s burning blue eyes. The table seemed to drop a foot.

  Nothing existed except Vance’s eyes and his hand on her mound, the heat swirling around her body, Galen’s demanding touch on her breasts. Her breathing slowed…the entire world seemed to halt in its spinning.

  GALEN SMILED AS Sally’s eyes glazed and the tension drained out of her sweet little body. Now, wasn’t she just a responsive little thing? She’d been as much fun to play with as he’d always imagined.

  Definitely a mouthy submissive—enough to annoy some Doms. Not him though. A bit of sass, if it was intelligent sass, could liven up any scene.

  But this one had more to her. She hid her caring nature, but he’d seen her looking after the newer submissives as often as she’d created havoc at other times.

  He glanced at Vance, enjoying the way his partner kept the girl locked tight in his gaze.

  Letting the moment unwind, Galen idly caressed her nicely swollen and beautifully taut nipples. Be a pleasure to have her in his lap in the evenings, having these to play with while he watched television. With her hair down, her breasts would be covered in a waterfall of rich brown silk.

  After a bit, Vance broke off, leaving Sally blinking and obviously trying to find her way back to reality. He gave Galen a quick grin as the sub pulled in a shuddering breath.

  Galen sighed and moved his hands. For months, they’d watched the little sprite. Never silent, never modest. She didn’t submit gracefully. Both he and Vance had wanted to take her on. Nothing serious—they didn’t do serious—but just for the challenge.

  Now they had her, and he was tempted to drag those briefs off her and take her in every way two men could enjoy a woman. But that wasn’t what she needed right now. Might not be what she needed for a while. She’d been gone for well over a month, and the girl wasn’t the same. Her bubbling enthusiasm had disappeared, and he felt the absence like an ache inside him. What had happened to flatten her—and put a wounded expression in her eyes?

  But this wasn’t the time to explore such things. She’d never done a scene with them before. Didn’t really know them. So they’d keep this to merely a short, sensuous session.

  He took a baby wipe from the toy bag, removed her gag, and cleaned her face off.

  Her liquid brown eyes focused on him, a slight wrinkle between her brows. Confused, was she? Excellent.

  Her upper lip was slightly shorter than average, curving into a bowed shape. Kissable. He leaned down to check if appearances could be believed. Under his, her mouth was reluctant. He nipped her lower lip in reprimand and felt her soften.

  And then she gave so generously to his demand, to his tongue, that his cock stiffened to actual pain. A woman’s kiss revealed much about her, and Sally’s was teasing. A bit impertinent. And fucking sweet.

  Hell, he wanted her. Badly.

  Not the time, Kouros. Raising his head, he pulled in a breath.

  She stared up at him, and her wide eyes held a hint of worry. As if she’d given him more than she wanted. Her lack of sass was amazing.

  “Tell me how you feel,” he said, not revealing what he knew—that she was very, very aroused.

  She swallowed. “I feel good.” Her voice came out husky, as if she’d already climaxed. The sound definitely didn’t decrease his discomfort. She shook her head, and he watched reality snap back in.

  Time to stop. One by one, he and Vance removed her restraints, then helped her sit up.

  He closed his fingers over her shoulder and steadied her. Under his hand, her skin was warm and slightly damp
. And incredibly soft. Contrasting with her golden tan, her creamy white breasts seemed to beg for his touch again.

  But no.

  She looked around, glanced up at Vance and him, and frowned. As if Little Miss Know-It-All didn’t know what to do. So she attempted to push off the table.

  Vance grabbed her arm. “Stay put, sweetie.”

  Apparently, if she was at a loss, she’d retreat. Galen curved his hand around the back of her head, needing to use some pressure to force her to face him. Damn, he loved the way she tried to resist. “Want to tell us what’s been bothering you?”

  She stiffened, then shrugged. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

  Bullshit. He heard Vance’s annoyed growl. Holding her gaze, Galen said, “You’re a shitty liar, pet.”

  She tried to pull back, got nowhere. Her rounded jaw set. “Okay, I’ll just say it’s none of your business.”

  Well. Galen glanced at Vance, caught his resigned expression. The girl had the right to play that card. This had been a light session, they hadn’t scened before, and she didn’t know them. She might be a trainee, but they didn’t have the prerogative to plumb her depths.

  But he had a craving to do just that.

  * * * *

  Hearing footsteps in the quiet house, Vance turned to see his partner detour around a stack of paint cans and rollers in the unfinished dining room and limp into the kitchen. The work on remodeling their place had turned the floor into an obstacle course. But they’d almost finished the kitchen, at least, and done a hell of a job.

  Seeing the weariness on Galen’s face, Vance shoved the package of cream-filled cookies across the marble-topped island. “Have something to eat.”

  “Good plan.” With obvious stiffness, Galen eased onto a black leather-covered bar chair at the island.

  Vance frowned. Their case was getting tougher to put down, and after they’d returned home from the Shadowlands, the idiot had worked for another hour in the office. “Leg hurting?”

  “Some.”

  That much of an admission meant it hurt like hell. Vance retrieved the ibuprofen from a cupboard, shook out a couple of tablets, and handed them to Galen with some water.

  “Thank you, Mom,” Galen said sourly but drank the pills down before taking a cookie.

  Vance rewarded him with a Johnny Walker Black and soda, and then poured himself a shot of vodka. “Bad day.”

  With his leg resting on one of the backless stools, Galen leaned an elbow onto the island, glass in his hand. “Till this evening.” His lips curved. “Pretty little bit, wasn’t she?”

  Vance grinned back. “She made it difficult to stop.” He took a sip, letting the Russian Standard slide down his throat. “Didn’t have her usual perkiness though.” Odd how much that had bothered him, but a subdued Sally was like a bird with a damaged wing.

  “Her month plus off from the club didn’t have a good effect.”

  The Shadowlands rumor mill said Sally had hooked up with a Dom who wasn’t a member of the club. And for over a month, he’d missed seeing her bouncy body and hearing her infectious laugh. He and Galen had been delighted she’d returned. “At least we got her out of her head for a bit. I’d like to know why she’s so unhappy.”

  “Yeah.” Galen rubbed his hands over his face. “Be a change to have something we could actually fix.”

  “Wouldn’t it though.” Darkness edged into Vance’s good mood. In New York, Lieutenant Tillman’s home had been burned. The arsonist hadn’t tried to hide what he’d done, and it had been ugly. The Harvest Association had not only eliminated a cop who’d made headway into their affairs, but the savagery of the murder—burning Tillman’s home with him and his family chained to their beds—served as a warning to potential informers. If a cop wasn’t safe, a mere civilian sure wouldn’t be.

  “Nothing we could do,” he said, knowing Galen would follow his thoughts.

  “Won’t help his children feel better. They’re adults, but still…”

  Vance frowned at the edge in his partner’s voice. Tillman’s death would raise cruel memories for his partner. Galen’s wife had died at the hands of criminals Galen had been after, and the wound of losing her to such an ugly death hadn’t healed as much as his partner wanted everyone to believe.

  “Think Sally will show up tomorrow?” Vance asked.

  Galen looked over, his bad mood derailed. “If she does, we’ll take her further.”

  “If she agrees.” Vance dipped his cookie into his drink before taking a bite. Vodka-laden chocolate with a cream filling. Not bad. “You suppose she’s still rocky from breaking up with that guy?”

  “Doubtful. She didn’t seem the type to want to settle down.”

  “There is that.” He heard she’d played with most of the Shadowlands Doms. No different from what he and Galen were doing—checking out the submissives. “Maybe he got serious and she dumped him. Would have given a few bucks to watch that fight.”

  Galen actually grinned and answered in Maine slang. “Ayuh.”

  Definitely yes. God knew they preferred subs who didn’t get attached. The time to settle down hadn’t yet arrived…although sometimes he envied his married friends. Not that much though.

  Vance took a drink of his vodka, remembering a pretty blonde from a month ago. Beautiful. Totally into serving his every need. But after two scenes, she’d been ready to get married. Sally wasn’t that type. “Good thought, gagging her. Seems like she uses that mouth on her like a sword and shield.”

  “And we rendered her defenseless. She might see it that way too. Might not like how much she surrendered.” Galen rubbed his jaw. “Interesting little submissive. I bet she shores up those defenses now. She might not even want to play with us.”

  Vance shook his head. There was chemistry between them and…something else he couldn’t put his finger on. “After the way we left her? Needing to come so bad she was shaking? Fifty bucks says she jumps at the chance to play.” And fuck but he wanted her in his ropes again. Wanted those sweet, vulnerable eyes looking up at him.

  “I’ll take that bet.”

  Chapter Two

  I’m the man! Sally did a seated victory boogie that netted her startled glances from the others in the coffee shop. Ignoring them, she grinned at her laptop display. E-mail after e-mail had filled the folder she’d set up for the Harvest Association.

  The folder bore the name Scum Suckers in honor of Kim, who’d been an unwilling guest in their establishment. Fucking slave traffickers. You are going to be sorry you targeted me. And Dan would be sorry for keeping such a messy desk. The photos she’d taken included a list of e-mail addresses from suspected members of the Harvest Association. The temptation to screw with them had been too much. So, last week, fueled by a bit too much alcohol, she’d sent e-mails with her special custom-designed computer worm to each address.

  As Sally sipped her turtle mocha coffee, the sociable noise of the coffee shop surrounded her. Having others around was comforting, considering she was kind of snooping around the den of a very big bear. She’d be much safer if the bear—aka the Harvest Association—never discovered her tracks, right?

  Harvest Association. Sheesh. The Midwesterner in her was offended by the name. Harvest meant crops like corn and beans. Good things. Harvesting shouldn’t refer to humans, let alone enslaving women.

  They needed to be put away, but Galen and Vance’s team hadn’t managed to identify the top dipwads. But I can.

  And ta-da! E-mails now filled the Scum Sucker folder, showing her sneaky computer virus had gained access to some mail systems. I’m the man! Now every e-mail those men received or sent was blind copied to Sally.

  With anticipation making her bounce in her chair, she opened the folder. But the first e-mail held nothing interesting. Or the second. Or the third. Well, spit on a snowball. Just as well that she’d been too busy to check the folder until today. The fourth revealed a man was cheating on his wife. Sally blinked at the suggestive language he’d sent to his gi
rlfriend. Could two bodies truly get into that position?

  However, the next e-mail had been sent to one of the Association people they titled an overseer. One step up. Perfect. Slowly Sally worked her way through the Scum Sucker folder, adding new people to gift with her worm. Since the sender was familiar to the receiver, her e-mails would be opened.

  Almost at the end, another overseer’s e-mail mentioned several New York “shipments” being ordered. A chill slid down her spine and lodged in her stomach. The shipments were women scheduled to be kidnapped. All too soon, the Harvest Assholeyation would auction them off to rich, sadistic buyers.

  Now what? Last week, she’d sent off the worm for oh, so many reasons. Like getting revenge for what the bastards had done to Linda and Kim, and yeah, because she still felt guilty for almost getting Linda killed. And definitely because finding out they’d targeted her for kidnapping had sorely pissed her off. And—okay, admit it—she’d always wanted to be a hero.

  She totally hadn’t expected to discover they were planning another auction. How should she deal with this information?

  She took a sip of her coffee in an attempt to warm her frozen insides. Knowing how Kim and Linda had suffered, she needed to warn the targets, somehow.

  And then maybe the Feds could plant another decoy. Galen and Vance were clever that way. Last year, they’d had Gabi pose as a bratty trainee in hopes of getting kidnapped. Lord, Gabi had been so good she’d fooled everyone.

  When Linda joined the Shadowlands, Sally had learned about the horrors of human trafficking. Linda was older than Sally’s usual girlfriends, but too young to be a mother figure…although she was the most motherly person Sally had ever met. Last January in the Shadowlands, Linda had heard the voice of a slaver—one she’d never actually seen.

  Sally sipped her coffee, forcing the liquid past her tight throat as she remembered her own stupidity. She’d blithely suggested Linda should join the trainees to help search for the slaver.

  Great suggestion. The psychopathic slaver had caught Linda. Sally’s teeth ground together. One minute Linda had been in the Shadowlands, gone the next. Just like with her mother, Sally couldn’t fix it. If Linda had been murdered, her death would’ve been Sally’s fault. Although Linda acted as if Sally had nothing for which to apologize, Sally wouldn’t ever forgive herself.