Masters of the Shadowlands 8 - If only

by Sinclair Cherise

  Vance nodded. “You seemed to enjoy sexual scenes at the club. But things change. We won’t be upset with either choice, but you have to be the one to choose, sweetheart. Sex or no sex.”

  Her gaze dropped to her hands, and Galen’s respect for her grew when she looked at them directly and said, “Sex.” She didn’t pretend to be pushed into the answer, didn’t deny the sexual tension among the three of them.

  “Well, I can’t say that I’m not pleased,” Vance said lightly. “Are you on the pill?”

  “Yes.”

  A shame to have to deal with ugly topics, but better that it was done.

  “While you’re here, you’ll be our only partner, and we expect the same from you. And we prefer no barriers during sex,” Vance said. “Galen and I have no diseases, and as members of the Shadowlands, we’re all tested often, but let’s swing by the doc tomorrow and get us all checked again.”

  She nodded. “Frank had…loose ideas about monogamy, so we never had unprotected sex.” Her lifted chin showed that insisting upon that had, perhaps, been an adversarial position. Good for her. “I’m clean, but I think the extra testing is wise. Thank you.”

  “Next, your limits list was filled out for a club venue. But we won’t be playing in a public venue most of the time. Would you like to restrict—or add—anything to that list?”

  She thought for a second and shook her head. Then with a glance at Galen, she spoke her answer. “No, Sir.”

  There it was. Her resistance was disappearing. Sir could be said in many ways, but when it slipped out easily, without thought, the title was one of the most beautiful words in the English language. Coming from this little imp made it all the more special.

  “Thank you, Sally,” he said, showing he recognized her surrender. And prized it.

  She tried to shrug it off, but the sweet pinkness of her cheeks said she valued his approval.

  And they all knew she’d fight them now and then—especially since they would push her into uncomfortable mental places to break down her barriers. Speaking of which… “We don’t know why you have a problem, and we’re going to work on helping you overcome it, but you might try counseling instead or in association with this. If finances are a problem, we can help.”

  She gave him a surprised look. “Um.” Her expression changed as she considered his suggestion. Her thinking mode was interesting to watch—as if she heard music that played only for her.

  After a minute, she shook her head. “I’d like to work with just you guys for now, but I’ll tell you if I think it’s too stressful or if I change my mind.”

  “Good enough,” Vance said. “For sleeping arrangements, the guest room—your room—has the biggest bed. Simply close the door if you don’t want company at night.”

  Vance’s nod at Galen handed back the reins.

  “Take your shirt off, pet,” Galen said.

  Her eyes rounded. But she obeyed. After pulling her pink T-shirt over her head, she hesitated with her hands on her lacy bra.

  Galen nodded.

  The bra followed. She really did have pretty breasts. Ample and high with pink-brown nipples. Her stomach was rounded and just the right softness for enjoyable nipping.

  She laid her clothes neatly on the coffee table. “Sirs,” she said quietly. “Do you prefer any type of address?”

  “As long as you’re polite, we’re not fussy,” Vance said.

  “Stand up and remove the rest, please,” Galen said softly. He leaned forward and offered his hands to help steady her.

  Her hands were cool, her grip strong as she let him help her to her feet. He tossed the cushion back on the couch.

  As she started to unbuckle her silver belt, a flush started at her breasts and flowed upward.

  “Stop.” Vance smiled as she paused. “You’re blushing, sweetheart. Why?”

  Her mouth fell open as if to say you’re questioning me…now? “Um. This is embarrassing. That’s why.”

  “Really?” With his elbow on the recliner arm, Galen rested his chin on his palm. “I’ve seen you strip in the Shadowlands without blushing.”

  Her color deepened.

  SERIOUSLY? SALLY FELT almost…outraged. She was ready to have sex. They liked her body. Wanted her. She knew it. But to stop and question her about her feelings. Again? When Vance’s gaze lingered on her clenched hands, she forced them open.

  Okay, they were just doing what she’d wanted. Why did she have to keep reminding herself of that? And why in heaven’s name was she embarrassed anyway? “I’m just—”

  Her voice trailed off at the serious expression on Vance’s face. He hated her evasions. She bit her lip and tried to think. He was right; she didn’t mind being naked at the Shadowlands. Then again, the Masters didn’t try to make her feel—vulnerable—and the younger Doms couldn’t.

  “You make me feel…exposed. More than naked.”

  “Keep stripping.” Galen studied her as she pushed her jeans off. “We want you to feel exposed. Inside and out.”

  As her nipples contracted into tight peaks, Vance’s gaze dropped there. “You have pretty breasts, Sally, and I like breasts.”

  A bit of the nervous fluttering in her stomach eased. At least until Galen said, “Present yourself, please. Standing. Wrists crossed behind your lower back. And let me know if you find anything uncomfortable or if your ankle starts to hurt.”

  Her legs started shaking as she widened her stance, straightened her posture, and put her arms behind her back.

  “If you arch your back more, you’ll please Vance,” Galen suggested.

  Even as her back arched, she recognized the manipulative technique. He was pushing her into pleasing them.

  “It seems you like making him happy,” Galen observed.

  She stopped her automatic nod and said, “I guess.”

  Galen smiled at her, his midnight eyes softening. “A verbal answer. You like pleasing me as well?”

  She hesitated.

  Vance rose and wrapped his big hand around her wrists tightly enough she couldn’t move her arms. He cupped her right breast. “Answer Galen.”

  She felt his calloused fingers scrape over the tender underside of her breast. “I do.” When she managed to look away from Galen’s dark gaze, she added under her breath, “I don’t know why.”

  “Aside from the fact that you’re submissive and like to please?” Vance asked.

  She nodded.

  He tugged at her nipple. “Probably more than one reason. You trust us or you’d never have come here, let alone asked for help.” Still holding her hands behind her back, he nudged her chin up and took her lips.

  He kissed like—like himself. Firm but direct. Gentle, yet holding her so she’d take whatever he wanted to give her. “And there’s something between us, sweetheart. You’ve attracted us from the beginning, and from the way you’ve retreated, you feel it as well.”

  His perceptive eyes caught hers, sending her sliding downward into quicksand.

  He kissed her again. Deeper. Wetter.

  Then Galen stepped in front of her, and a quaking built inside her. Vance was straightforward. Galen was…unpredictable. His unreadable eyes watched her as Vance released her wrists.

  “Vance likes to make sure you don’t move. I want you to do that yourself.” Galen smiled slightly. “It will please me if you maintain that position until I say otherwise.”

  Oh God. She swallowed against a dry throat. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Now let’s see where your threshold lies. Tell me when something actually hurts. Not fun pain but hurts, eh?”

  She trembled, the fluttering working its way outward. Her skin felt hot, her insides cold.

  Galen walked around her in a Dom’s inspection of his naked submissive. She stayed silent, feeling herself sink further into the happy state of no control.

  He ran a finger down her arm, stroked over her shoulders, fondled her buttocks. Firm fingers, hard hand. “Very nice.”

  Once in front of her, he cup
ped her breasts and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. A smile played along his lips as he pinched one nipple and the other. The tugging sensation was wonderful. Her toes curled.

  Then he increased the pressure to where it hurt.

  A squeak escaped her.

  He didn’t ease up. “Does that hurt, Sally?”

  She nodded. Her eyes filled.

  “Why don’t you say so?”

  She stared at him. Admit that something hurt? She just didn’t. And how stupid is that? “It hurts,” she whispered.

  “There you go.” He rubbed her nipples to reduce the sting. “Do you think the world will come to an end if you tell someone you hurt?”

  “No.” But she felt odd. Tense. As if he’d…be crueler now that he knew.

  “Physical and emotional?” His eyes narrowed, growing darker. Sterner. “Who used to hurt you, pet? Who made it so you didn’t want to admit to hurting?”

  She couldn’t answer. Her brain ceased to function, as if someone had pulled her power plug and shut down the processor.

  “Hell,” Galen said under his breath. He took her wrists, put them around her waist, and pulled her into his arms.

  Shuddering, she sagged against him. Cold currents swirled through her like an insane whirlpool. But in his firm embrace, she knew she wouldn’t spiral out of control. He had her. As his body warmth poured into her, she gave a tiny sigh and laid her cheek against the solid wall of his chest.

  “Vance?” Galen murmured. “Ideas?”

  “You didn’t have siblings, pard,” Vance answered. “Sally, think back. Do you remember saying, ‘You can’t make me hurt.’” His voice was high. Young. Defiant.

  Familiar.

  “I-I said that to my brother.” Her voice came out high and hesitant. She’d never said it to her father—just thought it so many times.

  “Go on.” Galen flattened his hands on her back, confining her against him.

  She was silent.

  A touch on her cheek broke her paralysis. She opened her eyes and found Vance beside her. “You didn’t want your brother to think he could hurt you?” His gaze was understanding. “Or make you cry, right?”

  She nodded. “He made fun of me if I cried.” His taunts were somehow worse than the occasional pain, somehow making it clearer that her mother’s death had destroyed her family as well.

  “What did he do to make you cry, sweetheart?” Vance’s hand was gentle on her face.

  “He would push me sometimes. If I got in his way,” she whispered. Cold Iowa winter. Ice on the sidewalk. A narrow, shoveled path between the house and barn. Two could squeeze by—or one could be shoved out of the way.

  “Did he hit you?” Galen’s voice was almost a growl.

  “Not…really.” Not Tate. A slap on the back at the school as he pretended he’d been congratulating her for her test scores, but the spot had burned. “But…Tate just didn’t like me.”

  “And your father?” Vance asked quietly.

  She closed her eyes, unable to tolerate his keen gaze. Because… On the rare occasions that she talked too much or asked for something or complained, her father would slap her. Because he hated her. Hated her. She realized she was shaking and pushed at Galen. “Let me go!”

  “Shhh,” Galen said. “We’re stopping now, baby girl.” He took a step back and sat on the couch, pulling her with him.

  Even as he adjusted her position on his lap, she realized how careful he was being with her injuries. And she didn’t care. “Let me go,” she said again. “I don’t want to—”

  “Settle, pet.” Even as he rubbed his chin on the top of her head, his steel-hard arm remained around her waist. “No more questions. You’ve worked hard enough for now.”

  Settle. She wasn’t going to settle. Couldn’t. Didn’t want to remember things.

  He was talking to Vance in a low voice, finishing with, “I set her off. I’ll hold her for a bit. Make us both feel better.”

  A hand ruffled her hair, and somehow she recognized Vance’s touch. “I’ll be back in a while.”

  His footsteps faded. Galen didn’t move, and his concern filtered through her cold shell, into the ice that filled her insides. Muscle by muscle, she slowly relaxed against him.

  “That’s better,” he murmured. He snuggled her to him even more closely. “I’m sorry, Sally. It isn’t easy to face what has happened in the past. But whatever happens, I’ll be here to hold you afterward.” He kissed her temple gently. “Whether you want me to or not.”

  Doms. Demon Doms. How could he be stern one minute and so comforting the next? She gave a little sigh and put her arm around his waist. Under her cheek, his heartbeat was as slow and measured as the Gregorian chants played in the Shadowlands, and each thud dissipated more of her memories.

  He rubbed his chin over the top of her head, teasing her with the scent of his rich aftershave, and she remembered another occasion she’d been close enough to smell that hint of lavender—when she’d been tied to a table in the Shadowlands. He’d been touching her. His gaze intent on hers…as she came.

  God, she’d never orgasmed like that before. Never felt so exposed as she did.

  A shiver ran through her at the memory…and with a small jolt, she realized she was still naked. On his lap.

  She traced her fingers over his crisp shirt…and the contoured muscles of his chest. God, he reminded her of an all-black leopard she’d seen—sleek and powerful. Every time Galen moved, she could feel his muscles ripple under the skin. She stroked up his chest, almost mesmerized by the valley between his pectorals, the dip at the hollow of his throat, how his deltoids transformed into rock-hard biceps. She pressed closer.

  His arm around her tightened, and she felt the power of his eyes on her. The silence from him seemed to grow, taking on an almost palpable weight. “Give me a kiss, Sally.”

  A kiss—a kiss with Galen? With his directive, she was suddenly aware of how her breasts were flattened on his chest and how his hand cupped her bottom. His hands were calloused…and she wanted those hands elsewhere. Covering her pussy. Pushing inside her. A kiss. When she curled one hand around his nape, his thick hair teased her fingers. She tipped her head up to press her mouth against his.

  He took control immediately. Good God, the man could kiss. Deep and hot and panty wetting. Only she didn’t have on panties.

  His tongue tangled with hers, pushed deep, retreated, lured hers into the play. When he sucked on her bottom lip, she felt the pull low in her core. He did nothing but enjoy her, choosing different angles, taking his time, going nowhere.

  And where ice had reigned, a fire started to build. An urgency. She was naked; he should be too.

  With one hand, she tried to unbutton his shirt. She’d reached the second one before he noticed.

  He glanced down, a snort escaped him, and he muttered, “You’re definitely an imp.” After setting her on her feet—holding her until she found her balance—he rose. His voice louder than normal, he called, “Vance.”

  Before she could move, he captured her wrists, putting her arms behind her back. The position arched her back—and pushed her breasts out. Holding her firmly, he kissed her again, even as he rubbed his chest against her breasts. The stiff material abraded her jutting nipples, making her pussy dampen.

  Finished, he glanced over her shoulder. And smiled.

  Vance’s big hand replaced Galen’s as he pressed against her from behind, warming her skin with his body. Reaching around, he flattened his free hand over her breast, sending need clawing through her in jagged patterns.

  Galen took her face between his palms, tipping his hand to avoid her bruise, and took himself another kiss, a totally demanding one, while Vance held her for him, not letting her move.

  God, God, God. The unyielding hands on her wrists, the plunder of her mouth—her insides liquefied like butter on a summer sidewalk.

  Vance reached around to tease her nipples into rigid peaks.

  Her knees simply buckled.


  Laughing, Galen grabbed her waist and held her up until she could stand again. “You kiss like a wet dream,” he said. “Enjoy for a bit, Vance.”

  Vance didn’t release her wrists; instead he fisted his free hand in her hair, pulling her head back and back until he had her arched far enough he could capture her lips.

  Different was all she could think. Galen…took, demanded, plundered, but Vance was simply overwhelming, swamping her in sensation.

  She was standing on one leg; the toes of her injured leg were barely touching the floor to help her balance.

  Now Galen’s hard hand grasped her calf as he carefully moved her injured leg outward and held it there. Opening her. At her wobble, Vance simply tightened his grip and continued. Her head spun under the assault.

  Then she felt Galen stroke up her leg, heading directly to her pussy. Heat sizzled through her when he touched her folds. One finger ruthlessly circled her clit until burgeoning need made her moan. She was very, very wet—she could tell from the slick feeling of his hand.

  “How sore are you, baby?” Galen asked, lightly touching her bruised hip. “Want more, or should we stop?”

  After nipping her bottom lip, Vance let her answer.

  Stop? Now? “I’m fine.” The silence reminded her they didn’t always believe her. “Really. I’m fine.” She wanted to ask them to continue. Needed to ask. Couldn’t. “I… More would be good.”

  Vance huffed a breath, laughing, and yet she realized he was watching her carefully, making sure. “All right, sweetie. More, it is.”

  AND HE’D GET a kick out of giving her as much as she could take, Vance thought.

  The half smile on Galen’s face said he was on board with that idea. But she wasn’t ready for the usual way they made love…and in all reality, he wanted a more “hands-on” approach first too. The first scene they’d done with her had given him a good idea of many of her erogenous zones. But by the time he finished today, he intended to have a whole lot more mapped out.

  He glanced at Galen. The tightness around his eyes said his knee was hurting. And Sally had been roughed up—they’d need to be very careful. “How about a quilt on the bar? I’m in the mood for a feast.”