by Jenna Jacobs
The entire room began to laugh and applaud. Even my Masters were laughing. I, on the other hand, was too frightened to even crack a smile.
“Congratulations, Emile,” Dylan called back. “But as is with all of us Doms, Dommes, and Tops, we sometimes have to do things we’d rather not be forced to do. Such is the case with Nick and me tonight.”
“We’ve talked to you about trust before, little one,” Nick interjected. “Remember?”
“Yes, Master,” I whispered with a slow nod of my head.
“Once trust has been lost, kitten. It’s hard to regain.”
“Yes, Master, I remember. I’m sorry for what I did,” I pleaded, hoping this time they would hear the sincerity in my voice and opt to forego my humiliating punishment.
“I don’t know, Dylan. Do you really think she means it?” Nick asked, scrubbing his fingers over his chin.
“I do, Master,” I insisted with a whispered plea.
“Silence, little one. I was speaking to Dylan.”
“I don’t know Nick. I don’t know that I can trust her to tell the truth.”
Dylan’s words hurt more than if he’d pierced my heart with a knife.
“I don’t know if she can make this up to us, man,” Dylan added, his words slathered in sorrow.
Make it up to them. Make it up to them. Do it now.
It had been a long time since that little voice in my head had captured my attention. And as if a light had been turned on in my brain, I knew what I had to do to earn back their trust. Regain their faith. Bask in their honor.
I took a step forward, my gaze fixed on the back wall. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for the love of my Masters. Nothing I wouldn’t give to live the rest of my life enveloped in their adoration. And there were no fears too strong to keep me from drowning in their Dominance.
Clenching my fists into the filmy silk of my gown, I lifted it over my head and tossed it to the floor. I heard a gasp in the crowd and as I swallowed a lump of anxiety, I looked out over my friends…my family. Their faces bore the truth in tears, smiles, and reflections of love.
I was safe.
I was whole.
Julianna stood, tears streaming down her face. “You are gorgeous, Savannah!” She screamed on a sob.
Tony stood up near the back of the room, wearing a smile so wide I thought it would split his face. He raised his hands, gave me a thumbs up, then began to clap.
Suddenly the entire room began to applaud as screams of encouragement filled the air. A startled gasp of laughter exploded from between my lips and a shy smile tugged the corners of my mouth. There was one more thing I had to do.
I turned and faced my Masters. Their expressions were choked with emotion.
“There is nothing I wouldn’t do to earn back your trust in me, Masters. Nothing on earth.”
Nick’s nostrils flared as tears welled in his eyes. “I love you, darling. I love you so much and I’m so damn proud of you,” he whispered as he gripped me in his arms. Burying his face against my neck, he murmured the same words over and over against my naked flesh.
Dylan pressed his warm body over my back, his mouth nuzzled close to my ear.
“Forever, kitten. You are ours forever. You were sent from heaven, Sanna. Sent to save me from myself. Sent to teach Nick to love again. You’re our salvation, kitten and I love you so much. I’ll never stop loving you.
Tears of joy spilled down my face. “I love you both. I’ll love for you for all time,” I cried.
Nick scooped me into his arms, capturing my lips in a torrid kiss.
“Sorry folks, but…ahhh, oh fuck it. Punishment is off,” Dylan stammered. “You all have fun. We’re going to go enjoy our brave and beautiful slave.”
The whole room erupted in laughter as Nick carried me out the door, down the hall, and back to our suite. Dylan closed and locked the door behind him. And as Nick laid me onto the bed, they stood and gazed down at me. I could see every emotion, so very clearly in their eyes.
Pride.
Hunger.
But best and brightest…
Love.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jenna Jacob is married and lives in Kansas. She loves music, cooking, camping, and riding Harley’s in the country. At thirteen she began writing short stories and poetry and dreamed of one day becoming an author.
Now that her four children are grown, she has time to paint with words, the pictures in her twisted mind. Outgoing with a warped sense of humor, she’s never once been accused of being shy or introverted. With close to twenty years of experience in the dynamics of the BDSM lifestyle, she strives to portray Dominance and submission with a passionate and comprehensive voice.
Connect with Jenna online:
Website: http://www.jennajacob.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jenna.jacob.author
Facebook Fan Page: http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Jenna-Jacob/236316889830812?fref=ts
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/@jennajacob3
Also Available from Jenna Jacob:
THE DOMS OF GENESIS SERIES
Embracing My Submission – Book One
DOMS OF HER LIFE SERIES (by Shayla Black, Jenna Jacob, and Isabella LaPearl)
One Dom To Love – Book One
COMING SOON
The Young And The Submissive - Is the second in the BDSM Erotic Romance Series titled: The Doms of Her Life and will be available July 23, 2013.
Jenna is co-author with New York Times Bestselling Author Shayla Black and Isabella LaPearl. The three have created a toe-curling, knock-you-off-your-feet erotic treat. Here’s a peek:
Raine Kendall has everything a woman could want…almost. Sexy, tender Dom Liam O’Neill is her knight in shining armor, but Raine keeps pinching herself. Is he too good to be true or is this growing connection one that could last a lifetime? She’s constantly torn by her abiding feelings for her commanding boss, Macen “Hammer” Hammerman, especially in the wake the mind-blowing night he cast aside the barriers between them and ravaged every inch of her body.
Hammer, Liam’s former best friend, can’t stop coveting Raine. But Liam is determined to hold and guide the woman he loves and see if she can be the submissive of his dreams. However, he’s finding that her trust is hard won and he needs a bloody crowbar to pry open her scarred soul. So he risks everything to win her once and for all. But once he’s put his daring plan in motion, will it cost Liam his heart if he loses Raine to Hammer for good?
Master Of My Mind - Is the third in Jenna’s BDSM Erotic Romance Series titled: The Doms of Genesis and will be available in the fall of 2013. Here’s a peek:
I stood beneath the faded green awning staring at the gleaming mahogany casket. The elegant brass handles glowed mocking the warmth that had been ripped from my soul. A cold rain splattered upon the canopy as somber faced friends gathered beneath it to show their respects. Well rehearsed tears spilled down the cheeks of his ex-wife as his hateful snatch of a daughter tried sooth the ice queen’s theatrics. They weren’t there to mourn the loss of the man I loved, but to masquerade as grieving victims until the fat inheritance landed in their laps.
The monotone voice of the Minister droned in my ears. None of his words of comfort penetrated the numb consuming void within. I was all but dead inside. Just as dead as my beloved Master who would soon be lowered into the black earth hollowed out below him. And God help me, I wanted to go with him, I couldn’t imagine a life without him.
Check out these other fantastic stories:
Dangerous Boys and Their Toy
By Shayla Black
Available Now!
Trading orgasms for information isn’t their usual way of doing business, but when a missing criminal-turned-star-witness and fifty grand are on the line, bounty hunter R. A. Thorn and Detective Cameron Martinez are prepared to put their bodies to the task and give gorgeous Brenna Sheridan everything she needs.
An exchange they never anticipated becomes an experience none can
forget—or walk away from. Sexual hunger sizzles the threesome, but the stakes and danger rise as a mafia bad-ass stalks Brenna.
Soon, their “deal” is no longer about information—or sex. Emotions bind Brenna, Cam and Thorn together more tightly than they ever imagined as the men protect—and serve—the beloved woman neither can live without.
* * *
“Detective,” she cried. “Thorn broke in, tied me up in my sleep and fondled me without my permission.”
“Not exactly true. I used the key under the flower pot on the front porch to let myself in, and I touched you with your permission—more or less. I asked you if you’d tell me what I wanted to know if I made you come, and you said yes.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“How was I supposed to know that? You were wet as hell when I touched you. As far as I’m concerned our bargain still stands.”
“Even if it did,” Brenna argued. “You didn’t make me come.”
Thorn flushed red. “I came damn close. Besides, you didn’t specify that I personally had to make you come, just that I had to make sure it happened. Cam will take care of the technicalities.”
Cam sighed and opened his mouth to refute Thorn.
Brenna shot back, “He can’t make me come, either.”
Normally, Cameron would let such a comment slide off his back. He didn’t have the chest-beating, macho caveman instincts Thorn possessed. But somehow, Brenna’s bald statement riled him a touch.
“Actually, I think, under normal circumstances, I could. I’m a patient man willing to take the time to discover what my partner needs during sex.” He cocked his head and stared at Brenna. An odd sort of longing crossed her face. He remembered the night by the pool, watching her frustrated attempt to orgasm. “But what you’re talking about is deeper, right?” He crossed the room to sit on the bed beside her. “Have you ever had an orgasm?”
Brenna flushed twenty shades of red then turned away.
He took that to mean no.
An orgasm deficit to most would not be a huge tragedy. Through most of high school and college, Cameron had gone without. Too many people underfoot for self-pleasure. In his mostly white school, too many folks had been unwilling to get naked with someone half Apache, half Hispanic. In Arizona, that century and a half year-old prejudice against Indians and Mexicans still quietly lived on in more than a handful of people.
But Brenna… Her deficit wasn’t a mere case of going without. It was an inability, her shamed expression told him. And Cameron ached for her. What would it be like to be an adult and not know the joy of sexual satisfaction?
Tragedy.
“See? She’s frigid,” Thorn mouthed off.
Cameron whirled on him. “Has anyone ever told you what an enormous prick you are?”
Thorn grinned. “No, but I hear frequently what an enormous prick I have.”
Cameron rolled his eyes then turned back to Brenna. “Ignore him. When the phrase son of a bitch was coined, they had Thorn in mind.”
“You’re not much better. Pinching me so hard it brought tears to my eyes.”
So he had. Totally unlike him. This stupid plot of Thorn’s wasn’t getting them anywhere, but he may be onto something.
“Key.” He held out his palm to Thorn.
“Ah, shit. Man, you’re going to uncuff her? She looks hot, bound and ready.”
She did. No refuting that. But Thorn couldn’t see the long-term benefit of uncuffing Brenna beyond the short-term benefit the view provided his dick.
“I’d hate to have to arrest you. You’d have to call your brother to bail you out.”
“Oh, hell no!” With another curse, Thorn slapped the key in Cam’s palm. “You ruin all the fun, you know that?”
“I’m the original party pooper.”
With a quick turn of his wrist and a few tugs, Brenna’s wrists were free. He untied her ankles. Just as she would have leapt from the bed and reached for the robe on the floor beside it, Cameron placed a palm between her bare collarbones.
“Not just yet.” Once he had her pinned to the bed, he said, “I am sincerely sorry that no man has taken the time or care with you to give you the pleasure you deserve. I’m sorry you have yet to figure out how to bring yourself to orgasm.” He brushed a stray curl from her cheek. “I know it must bother you. You must feel somewhat left out and…defective.”
Tears flooded Brenna’s eyes, and Cameron sucked in a shocked breath. He’d hoped that he was close to the truth, but hadn’t imagined that he was dead on. Her tears and pained expression said, however, that he was.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re not. It’s wrong for you to go on suffering needlessly. We will help you discover what you need to find fulfillment, if that’s what you want. But…” Cameron sighed, hating what he had to say next. “Thorn is right. We need your help in return. Lawton worked with a man named Julio Marco and others to traffic humans across the border and sell them into slavery. I was Lawton’s arresting officer. Thorn is his bail bondsman. We need Lawton to live up to his word to turn evidence for the state so the victims can have justice. He must come in and provide the testimony he promised. You’re our only hope of finding him.”
Brenna blinked. Tears ran down the sides of her face. Cameron hurt for her. She was clearly confused, didn’t know who to trust or what to do. He understood.
For more information visit: www.shaylablack.com
Handcuffed By Her Hero
Book 2 of the W.I.L.D. Boys of Special Forces
By Angel Payne
Coming July 18, 2013!
“Ssshh,” he murmured again. “Rayna, it’s all over. You got the gun, remember? And you got the bad guy. You got him, honey.”
“No. No. He’s going to get in again! He’s going to get me again!”
“Ray-bird—”
“He’s coming!” Her torso shuddered as her lungs struggled for air. “He’s bringing the guards with him this time!”
“He’s not here. He’s not—”
“They’re going to hold me down. He’s going to let them put that needle in me. No! Not there. Not down there!”
Z’s muscles went to sludge a second time. Relief had liquefied him the first time. Rage was the villain now. He forced his way through it, wrapping her hand tighter in his.
“Needle?” he demanded. “What needle, Rayna?”
He prayed this was some strange glitch of her nightmare, and not a remembered reality. If it was, so help him God—
“Don’t let them do it. Oh, God!”
He pulled her up, cradling her against him. He needed her closer, needed to help her fight off the demons, even if they were only in her mind. “I won’t let them do it.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “I won’t, okay?”
She whimpered and struggled at him. “Zeke!”
“Here,” he assured. “Right here, Rayna.”
“I need Zeke!”
He frowned. She’d started to blink her eyes, but her gaze swept the room without seeing it. Shit. She was still subconscious. And pleading for him from that misty mental realm. His reaction was a double-edged blade. Hearing his name on her lips jolted him with elation. The panic in it brought him back to earth. Painfully.
Fuck it.
“Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” He gave her a gentle shake. A second one, harder and longer. She batted at him again.
“Zeke!”
“Honey, I’m here.”
Her breath hitched in her throat. Her frame froze then softened. She blinked with slow confusion. Her free hand curled into his camouflage top. “You—you really are,” she whispered.
Her lips parted on a slow, sweet smile. The expression fascinated him so much, Zeke wrestled with his reaction. He liked to smile, right? Then why couldn’t he remember how to do it now? Why couldn’t he think of anything to do right now?
Finally, he forced his mouth around one syllable. “Hi.”
Her smile became a full grin. “Hi.” Jolt of elation,
the sequel. “How was the mission?”
Was she kidding? He already knew the answer to that. She really wasn’t. The question was typical Rayna, filled with concern for everyone else, despite how the tears from a post-traumatic nightmare still gleamed on her cheeks. “Time of my fucking life,” he cracked. He wouldn’t be able to reveal anything beyond his cynical tone, so he squeezed her shoulder to indicate he was changing the subject, whether she liked it or not. “You were having a pretty shitty episode, honey.”
Rayna dislodged her hand from his top in order to wipe the moisture off her face. “Yeah,” she muttered. “Probably.”
He still held her other hand. If she thought she was getting that one back, she could also think it snowed in hell. Zeke squeezed those fingers harder. “The episodes weren’t this bad before I left.”
“I know.”
“You were also staying on your meds before I left.”
“Zeke—”
“You don’t have to be on them forever, Rayna.”
“I know, okay?”
“Apparently, you don’t.”
“Stop it.” She tried to jerk free again. Zeke gripped her tighter. “I don’t want to talk about it. About any of it.”
He treated that statement like a badly-hung door on a drug lord’s hut. Kicked it into non-existence. “You went on about King for a while.”
She sighed and looked away. “Yep. Sounds right.”
Strands of her brilliant, near-burgundy hair fell into her eyes. Zeke let her hand go so he could brush them back. Change of tactic. There were occasions for busting down doors, and then there were moments made for silken steps. Especially when they came before the questions he asked next.
“Have you ever dreamed about the bastard’s guards, too?”
