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The Wild Rose Press
www.thewildrosepress.com
Copyright ©2009 by Jennifer Leeland
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
Dedication
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
About the author...
Also available
Chapter One
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The Trust
She Yields
by
Jennifer Leeland
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Trust She Yields
COPYRIGHT ©
2009 by Jennifer Leeland
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Angela Anderson
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, July 2009
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To my editor Diana Carlile,
who continues to help me grow as a writer.
To Elaina Huntley,
who gives me great feedback on my writing.
To Crystal Jordan, Dayna Hart and Loribelle Hunt, who support me every day through the whining, the excitement and the struggle of writing.
To my family,
who all understand that “edits” mean
"leave poor Mommy alone."
And finally, to my readers,
who have given me encouragement.
I love to hear from you.
[Back to Table of Contents]
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Jennifer Leeland
AND HER BOOKS
The Mask She Wears
"The Mask She Wears” is an unusual representation of the BDSM lifestyle, but I found it fascinating ... complex and I saw it as a wonderful story of healing and new beginnings. I highly recommend it!
~Chamomile, Whipped Cream Reviews
The Secret She Keeps
"Ms. Leeland gave me a thrilling tale of love and a lifestyle that kept me on the edge of my seat."
~Hibiscus, Whipped Cream Reviews
"The Secret She Keeps is another great romance from a rising star in the D/s genre by Jennifer Leeland...
"Ms. Leeland has penned another winner in The Secret She Keeps and has garnered a spot within a rare number of authors I consider must-buys in the D/s genre.
~Victoria, TwoLips Reviews
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter One
There he was again.
Lee Sidle shot a covert glance at the corner booth. The bar wasn't as busy this Friday night as the previous four. But he was here, just as he had been that first night and every Friday night since.
She knew exactly what he represented, too. The blond, suave good looks didn't fool her. There was something about him she'd immediately picked up. Maybe it was the way his gaze swept the room or the way his voice carried in the bar when he ordered. He was a male dom. No question about it. He and his friends didn't wear leather or carry floggers, but to her, their energy was clear.
After all, until two months ago, she'd been a part of that lifestyle. The move to Humboldt County had been to get away from it. At forty, the thought of starting over would be difficult, but the hurt and betrayal of the past year had become too much and she'd run. And though only one man had caused her pain, she blamed them all. Those she had called “friend” became strangers. It had been devastating. Being a submissive was not just a sexual choice for her. It had been her whole identity.
So she'd moved away, started over, shed her old life like a dead snake skin. But underneath, she knew who and what she really was. The man in the corner knew it, too.
And tonight, he was alone.
The music from the live band played alternative rock, but the noise level didn't affect the connection she felt with him. His steel gray gaze locked on hers, and she struggled to escape. She resisted the urge to wipe her damp palms on her skirt and took a deep breath to slow her erratic pulse.
A month ago he'd been here, just like tonight, alone and relaxed. She'd glanced his way several times and noted the way he stared at her, his expression hungry. She'd ignored him, put distance between them, but he only gave her a knowing smile. They never spoke, yet, they had communicated a wealth of information.
Every Friday night she berated herself for coming back to BC's, the downtown bar where the clientele was a little older without being snooty. However, here she sat, drinking Crown Royal and Coke in small amounts as she enjoyed the music.
Lee caught her reflection in the bar mirror. Dark, curly black hair tumbled over her shoulders in an unruly mess. Her makeup was understated, almost boring, but it brought out the gold in her hazel eyes. Tonight she wore a burgundy blouse and a black mini skirt with her thigh-high leather boots. The boots added about three inches to her solid five-six frame, and she liked the appearance of control they gave her.
It was all a lie.
Deep down, Lee wanted to lose control, hand it over, be completely controlled by another. If only she could stamp out the need to submit to another person in the bedroom, her life would be simpler. Tears pricked her eyes. She couldn't let them fall. Her makeup would run.
"May I buy you another drink?” Her gaze jerked to the man standing next to her. It was him. Stumbling off the bar stool, she backed away. “I—no. Please, I—"
Fear closed Lee's throat as she whirled toward the door. The room suffocated her. She had to get out. Had to get away. She burst through the door and sprinted for her car.
She couldn't do it again. She couldn't allow another dominant to control her. All that was over.
* * * *
David Peters frowned as the woman careened out the door. Obviously, she was frightened. Not of men, but of him in particular. As a man who was known for his charm, David wasn't used to terrifying women. Well, not unless they needed it.
The bartender picked up her glass. “She wasn't interested, huh?"
"It was much more than that,” David said, more to himself than the man behind the bar. “She knew exactly what I was, and it scared her."
"She's new in town. From Las Vegas, so I understand.” Jack wiped the counter and smirked. “It's nice to see one who doesn't fall in line for you."
David glared at the bartender. “So glad I could entertain you."
"It's not often I get to see you strike out, Peters. Let me enjoy it."
"It's not often I run into fear like that.” He threw some money on the bar. “I'll see her again. You'll see. She needs me."
The bartender shook his head. “You
've got the biggest ego I've ever seen."
David snorted. “I doubt that.” He sighed as he always did when trying to explain things to vanilla people. “It's not ego. She does need me or someone like me.” He stared at the door as if willing her to come back through it. He'd have to wait a whole week to see her again. That bothered him. Annoyed him.
Worried him.
He shoved the thought away. Of course, he wasn't worried about a woman he didn't even know. How could he be? She was just another soul who needed the one thing he offered. Sanctuary.
"Well, good luck.” The bartender's smile grew faint. “That lady has baggage."
"Don't we all,” David said softly. “Don't we all."
He said “goodnight” and strode out the bar doors. The night air was fresh and clean as the summer fog moved in to cover the bay. BC's was right on the waterfront, and the lights from the bridge over the Humboldt Bay cast an eerie glow. He loved this area. The smell of the fog and the pristine beauty of the surrounding mountains made this his home. His roots ran deep. Born and raised in Eureka, California, he hadn't known what a gift it was to live here until he'd traveled to other places. An environmental engineer, there were opportunities everywhere and his skills were honed in urban areas, but he retained a nostalgic longing for home.
The time he spent in Southern California only made him homesick. It was the miserable years in San Francisco that drove him back to Eureka.
With him, David brought the sexual freedom that made him a mentor and a teacher in the BDSM community. His reputation was impeccable. He was a responsible, disciplined dominant who didn't tolerate bullshit in his domain or from his fellow lifestyle friends.
Trusted, but not loved.
Disciplined, but not really controlled.
Lately, his life had seemed so empty and monotonous. Catherine Laynard had been an interesting submissive, but not really his. When she and Justin teamed up, he'd been happy for her. But very lonely.
There seemed to be something in the air. His friend, Zac had hooked up with Tessa, and they were planning to get married. For the twenty years, David had provided a gathering place for the community. He'd play, take lovers, but he remained distant from the guests.
At forty-four, he was beginning to think he would always be alone. Most believed he didn't want to share his life. No one actually knew him or how wrong those assumptions were.
He strolled down the boardwalk, watching a fishing boat slide into the harbor, his hands jammed in his pockets, a slight ocean breeze ruffling his hair. He was running out of time. Some would even say he was too old to start a life with someone special, but David knew exactly what he wanted. A woman who probably didn't exist.
All his life, women fell easily into his bed. Submissives never questioned him, always more than happy to simply serve. There was no challenge, no excitement to his interactions. His fellow dominant and friend, Justin, believed David created this problem by not being open to undisciplined submissives. But even those who required training didn't stir him.
Then a month ago he'd seen her.
The woman from the bar was a trained submissive, he could tell that already. Her demeanor gave her away. Her body was unobtrusive, her clothing soft and pliable, but she wasn't. The instant his gaze met hers, he'd known her truth. She'd never really submitted. It was clear she'd learned the rules, played the game, but she was completely her own.
Apparently something had gone wrong in her submissive experience. Knowledge of his dominance was there in her eyes, but she denied him, ignored him, intrigued him to the point of obsession. His hands itched to grip the dark, thick hair and hold her still. His cock twitched at the thought of her on her knees with her ass in the air. His mind ached to know her, control her, and give her the power a submissive truly possessed.
He had felt her fear in waves and hoped bringing some of his friends would encourage her to join him. Instead, she had assessed them all and kept far away. It was absolutely clear she was totally aware of what they were and what they stood for. Why she would run from it, however, was not.
She challenged him. Not only to convince her to let him dominate her but to discover her fear, find what made her tick.
The fog thickened and swirled at his feet as he meandered back to his car. His black Nissan was almost indistinguishable from the shadows, and he fumbled with his keys.
A figure stepped forward from the back of his car, and he froze. It was her. She must have been waiting for him since she left the bar.
"What do you want from me?” Her gaze was unreadable, and her hair was wet from the mist.
To get a better idea of her emotions, he pressed the locking mechanism on his car. The dome light flicked on just in time to disclose the shiver that passed over her. Her nipples pushed through the dark silk blouse.
"I wanted to buy you a drink.” David slid his hands in his pockets again, hoping to show her she had nothing to fear, not from him. “It's cold. Would you like to go inside and talk about it?"
"No.” She frowned. “Can we sit in your car?"
"Of course.” He opened the passenger door, and she slid into the seat, rubbing the goose bumps that dotted her arms. He wondered why she'd approached him this way as he got in the driver's seat and turned on the heat.
"I know what you are.” She bit the words out.
He cocked a brow. So, she was going to admit it. He'd figured she would keep denying it. Pretend he wasn't a male dominant. “Back at you."
"You don't know me."
"No, but I'd like to.” He had to go carefully, slowly. She'd been hurt somehow, and she was scared, no matter how angry she might appear.
"You can't.” Her lips tightened, but in true submissive form, she didn't meet his gaze. “Not the way you want."
With a gentle but deliberate hand, he grasped her chin and turned her head so she was forced to look at him. “You don't think you want the lifestyle anymore then?” She swallowed and only nodded so he took the next step, a risk, but if she agreed ... “I want to make a deal with you. Before you give it all up, give me a chance to show you how it should be, a month. Be my submissive, and if, when our time is up, you still want to live a vanilla life, you can."
"No.” The refusal warred with the indecision in her eyes.
"One month,” he said softly.
Her expression crumpled. “I can't. I'm no good at this. I top from the bottom.” The words flowed out in a rush. “I'm a horrible submissive. I should have never entered the lifestyle. I should have stayed vanilla and found some nice schmuck to marry.” She jerked away from him to stare out the passenger window. “What makes you think you can make a difference?"
"I can see that punishing you is going to be a regular occurrence."
Her hand went to her elbow, a protective gesture, and his suspicions were confirmed. Punishment had been meted out, but not to discipline. It had been to break her, demean her. “You need to know what true punishment is."
She spun in her seat and fire blazed in her eyes once again. “I have been punished. I know what it is. There's nothing you can teach me about that."
Against his better judgment, almost instinctively, his hands shot out to grip her shoulders and pull her over the console, her breasts barely grazing his chest. “You've been abused, not punished. This is punishment."
His lips hovered a hairsbreadth from hers, his gaze tangled with hers. Her hand slipped between their bodies, presumably to shove him away, but it only rested on his chest. Her breath caught, and she melted toward him, arousal bright in her dilated pupils, in the warmth of her flushed skin.
He could have her here, show her the pleasures to be had from someone who knew what they were doing. God knew he wanted to. But he set her away from him and leaned back in his own seat, hardening himself against her sob of frustration.
"That was punishment,” he whispered. For both of them. But he had to be firm with her.
"You bastard.” She spat the words.
"Tsk. Tsk. Yo
u've let your training slip.” He pulled a card from his wallet. “Be here tomorrow night. I'm having a party. You know the dress code. You can begin your month with me then.” He gazed at her steadily. “If you don't show, I won't give up.” He smiled. “By the way, my name is David Peters. What's yours?"
She snorted and shook her head. “My name is Lee Sidle, and I won't be there tomorrow night."
"As you wish,” he said calmly though his blood boiled at her refusal. “But let me tell you this. If you let the fear win, you'll always be a slave to it. Always."
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Chapter Two
She wasn't going to go. Even as Lee prepared herself for David's BDSM party, she kept telling herself she wasn't going. A black leather skirt, her precious boots, a red leather halter top, and she still believed she wasn't going.
It wasn't until she was in her car, a print-out of directions to his house in hand, that Lee finally gave in and admitted it. But she was only going to tell him she wasn't going to be his submissive. Ever.
Still, the lie didn't work on her. She only hoped it worked on him.
Nerves stretched tighter the closer she got to his home. David didn't seem like Barry, but looks were deceiving. Barry had seemed so perfect, so charming.
Stop thinking about him. That's over and done.
All she had to do was march into David's house and tell him she was refusing to give him thirty days. She wasn't giving any man anything of hers ever again. The only thing she would do was take. She was done serving, bowing, and submitting.
Anger helped. It got her to David's driveway and up his front steps. It even helped her ring the bell with confidence.
But when David opened the door, the anger seemed to dry up. God, he was yummy. Tall, built but not too buff, he was every woman's wet dream. His fingers were long and tapered, just perfect to do wicked things to her nipples, which were now pebbled and hard. It wasn't fair. His pants hugged his hips and the outline of his cock made her mouth water.
But the amusement on his face snapped her back to reality. “I've come to tell you—"
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