by Jenna Jacob
Lifting from my lips, Max nipped the lobe of my ear and whispered, “Wait here, Sam, I’ll get you cleaned up.”
While it wasn’t an order per se, his words pierced my skin in a pinprick of defiance. Shoving the sensation away, I wasn’t going to ruin the most incredible sex of my life by turning into a confused, insecure shrew.
The loss of his body heat sent a shiver of abandonment through me. I brushed the ridiculous emotion away as I lay boneless, liquid, and body humming. Listening to the water running in the bathroom, I partially lifted my heavy eyelids. I smiled as Max swaggered toward me—cock bobbing at half-mast, washcloth in one hand and clean vibe in the other. He was a sight to behold. As he sat down on the edge of the bed, I reached out for the cloth. The idea of him cleaning me up felt too much like aftercare.
“Roll over, I’ve got this.”
I shook my head. “I’ll do it.”
He handed me the warm, folded cotton with a troubled expression, then stood and stepped into his jeans. I quickly cleaned myself and sat up. I could feel his eyes on me as I paraded into the bathroom and tossed the washcloth into the dirty-clothes hamper. Turning, I found Max, in just his jeans, hands on his hips, staring at me. His expression was a cross between anger and lust.
“What’s wrong?”
“Why wouldn’t you let me do something as innocuous as clean the lube off your backside?”
A whole host of excuses swirled in my head, but after the starkly intimate act we’d just shared, I wasn’t going to sully it by lying to him. “I didn’t want you giving me aftercare.”
He scoffed and shook his head. “The only aftercare I gave was holding you in my arms a few minutes ago. But the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind, then or when I went to get the cloth to clean you up. Sometimes a man simply wants to do things for the woman who just blew his mind. Did you ever stop to consider that? No. Because you’re so afraid—”
“I know what I’m afraid of,” I snapped.
“I do, too.” Max issued a heavy sigh and scrubbed a hand over his head. “I’m walking on eggshells here, Sam. I don’t like it, but I’m doing it for you. Look, I get that you’re caught between two worlds.”
“No. I’m really not.” My words were clipped. My anger began to churn.
“Then why did revisiting your submission rip you apart? I saw the state you were in when I got here.”
“Because of you!”
Max blinked. “Me? What the hell did I do?”
Suddenly, I was too naked and exposed. I stormed to my dresser and dragged on a pair of yoga pants, then slapped on a bra and grabbed a shirt. The clothing left me feeling only slightly less vulnerable, but aside from crawling into the closet and slamming the door, it was the best I could do. I had a sneaking suspicion this conversation was about to take an ugly, unwanted turn, but I couldn’t back down now.
“Why did you constantly tease me about being submissive?”
Max opened his mouth, then closed it. He stared at me for several long seconds, then flattened his lips. “You want the truth?”
“Always.”
“Okay. First of all, you are an impressive Domme. You handled that boy last night with an expertise most Dominants, male or female, don’t possess.”
“Thank you. But?”
“The minute you opened the door to the club, a feeling punched me in the gut so hard it about knocked the wind out of me.”
“What feeling was that?”
“You don’t want to know, Sam. Trust me.”
“I do, or I wouldn’t have asked.” I slapped my hands on my hips.
“It’s not important.” Max’s mouth curled in a look of grim resignation. He bent and picked up his T-shirt, then pulled it over his head.
“Obviously it is, or you wouldn’t have brought it up.” He’d opened a door to something uncomfortable or too revealing. But just as quickly, Max had slammed the damn thing shut again as if I weren’t capable of handling its contents. “Tell me. I’m a big girl.”
“You’re a beautiful girl,” he softly murmured. Moving in close, he cupped my shoulders and sent me a weak smile. “But you’ve been through the emotional wringer enough for one day. We’ll save this conversation for another one. All right?”
“No. It’s not all right,” I bit out. “I need to know why you kept needling me about being a Domme.”
“Why?”
I closed my eyes. I had to look away from his penetrating gaze.
Suddenly the doorbell rang.
“Fuck!” Max spat. “It’s probably Dylan and Nick’s guy. I’ll—”
“I’ll get the damn door.”
Turning on my heel, I stomped out of the room. I didn’t even know why I was mad, but my blood pressure was spiking like a porcupine. Plastering on a manufactured smile to the workman standing on the porch, I unlocked the etched-glass outer door and pushed it open.
“Samantha Radcliff?” the older man with gray hair asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m Fred Sidewell. Nick Masters sent me over.”
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“No problem, ma’am.”
Though Fred hadn’t used the honorific, ma’am in the context of the lifestyle, a sudden calmness came over me. I felt a shift within and a familiar control lock in place.
“If you’d like to follow me out to the truck, Mr. Masters suggested I bring a few styles with me for you to choose from.”
I could feel Max standing behind me. Not just the heat of his body but the tension rolling off him, as well. While our conversation was far from over, I felt more equipped to handle whatever it was that he was hiding from me.
“That was thoughtful of him. Yes. I’d be happy to.”
I followed Fred to his truck. He showed me several doors, some stained in light oak and couple more a deep mahogany, but I really wasn’t paying much attention. I could feel Max’s stare boring into my back. Sweat broke out over my face. I dotted it away with the back of my hand as Fred tugged out a couple more, painted white, from his truck. I lifted my finger, pointing to the last door he offered when I spotted Max walking toward me.
“I’m going to take off. I know you’re going to be busy for a while, but we’re not done talking, Sam. There’s still a whole lot we need discuss. I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”
“Okay,” I replied, darting a glance at Fred who was busy dragging power tools out of the cargo hold in the bed of the truck.
Max brushed a soft kiss against my cheek, flashed me a gentle smile, then turned and walked away.
I watched his sexy retreating form as a mixture of emotions clamored through me. I was disappointed that he’d decided to leave, and it left a hollow feeling inside. Yet a sense of relief I couldn’t deny swirled through me, too.
“I should have you put back together in about an hour,” Fred announced.
“Sounds good,” I murmured, watching Max drive away.
When I wandered back inside, I noticed that my collar, Desmond’s photo, and the newspaper clippings had been tucked back inside the box now sitting on my couch.
CHAPTER FIVE
True to his word, Fred had installed the new door and replaced the splintered frame in a little over an hour. Alone again, I paced the living room, staring at the box still poised on the couch. As darkness settled outside, I plopped down beside the container of broken promises and dreams. Unanswerable questions about Max still raced through my head. But since figuratively stepping into my Domme shoes once again, I felt competent to deal with whatever lay ahead.
Without an ounce of timidness, I lifted the lid on the box. Desmond’s smiling face stared up at me. While the familiar empty sadness wormed its way into my heart, I simply smiled back at him.
“I miss you. I always will.” My voice softly trembled.
I clutched my old collar. I needed to find out if the pieces of Samantha were content in her isolated cell or if she indeed yearned to rise from the ashes. I didn’t want to
spend another minute riding this roller coaster of doubt. It wasn’t me. Lashing out at Max for my own shortcomings wasn’t the answer.
It had taken years for me to become this cast-iron bitch, and I couldn’t shake that side of me off in a matter of days or hours. But Max hadn’t signed up to be my whipping boy, either. I wasn’t being fair to him or me.
Once I sorted this clusterfuck out, I’d tuck the past away where it belonged and offer my apologies then. That or venture down a new road and fucking kneel at his feet.
Not hardly, my subconscious scoffed.
Closing my eyes, I drew the leather to my nose and inhaled its scent. Longing and sadness rushed in. A few tears of mourning slid down my cheeks, but the pain was bearable now. Maybe forcing myself to relive the past had numbed me. Or maybe I’d already purged the majority of debilitating pain. Of course, the cloak of Dominance protecting me might simply be deflecting more self-induced agony.
Sweeping my jumbled emotions aside. I held the collar and focused on the feelings it induced. I slowly plucked each sentiment from my mind and studied it.
Security. The memory of the constant shelter Desmond had provided lent an unequaled level of safety. But I had provided my own safety and protection for years.
Trust. Holding the feeling was like balancing the blade of a knife in my palm. I’d trusted him to always be there for me, but that trust had been broken. Not by the man himself but by forces that neither of us could have ever imagined. Still, there were people in my life who had earned my trust. Mika, Julianna, Drake, Trevor…the list could go on and on. But over time I had learned how to trust again.
Peace. Submitting to Desmond had completed me. The amount of serenity I’d found in serving him was greater than the universe. My heart had overflowed each time he praised me. But I’d resigned myself to the fact—learned to live with it even—that I’d never find such all-encompassing solace with another. In switching from sub to Domme, I’d found a pseudo-replacement of fulfillment in accepting a submissive’s control. It might not be as perfect as what I’d once had, but it was rewarding, and I could remain among my kink-minded family.
Love. A lump lodged in my throat. I worked to swallow it down. Desmond had been the love of my life, and always would be. I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of sharing the depth and breadth of devotion with anyone else. My husband…my Master had known me inside out, backward and forward and all the hidden cracks and crevices in between. He’d unconditionally accepted all the parts of me, the good, bad, and ugly. While I still maintained the capacity to love…my mother, my friends, no man would or could ever love me as much as Desmond had.
Placing the collar back in the box, I exhaled a heavy sigh. Wiping my eyes, I tucked the lid in place and silently carried the container back to my room.
I hadn’t had any life-altering epiphanies; I’d simply come to the sad conclusion that I pined for a life lost…a ghost of happiness that I once had. I could no more recreate those glorious days than I could conjure Desmond from the dead.
“This is as good as it gets. This is all you’ll ever have.” The words of reckoning spilled off my tongue. It was as if I needed to hear them out loud before I could take the first step on the only path available for me…the road I was already on.
Placing the box on the shelf in my closet, I pressed my palm to its side.
“Until we meet again in the afterlife…good-bye, Desmond.”
I closed the door. It snicked in place with a chilling finality.
Another tear leaked down my cheek, and I let it fall to the floor in tribute to the man who still owned my submissive soul.
At four o’clock on the dot, I stood outside Mika’s office. Whip in one hand, I raised my other and rapped on the ornately carved wooden door. He opened it from the other side and drank me in. From my black shiny stilettos to my short black leather skirt and black leather corset to the whip clutched in my fist. He grinned.
“I see you’ve found your answer, Mistress. Please come in,” Mika chuckled.
“I told—”
“Don’t say it.” He held up his hand. “I assumed you knew what was in your heart, but sometimes it doesn’t hurt to take a step back and make sure.”
“I know what’s in my heart. And I know exactly where I’d be if Desmond were still alive. But he’s not. Therefore, I’m not, either. If it were a perfect world, we’d all be idyllically happy, shitting rainbows and unicorns, but it’s not and we don’t.”
“True.” Mika nodded toward the couch. I sat down and he took a seat beside me. “But are you settling for second best or charting a new life course?”
“Honestly, both. I can navigate Dominant waters, but as a sub, I can’t.”
“I understand. So this friction you feel with Max, are you able to rise above it now?”
“There’s a hell of a lot more than just friction. I won’t lie.”
“I’m glad. About the not lying part, I mean. I heard about the grand entrance he made over at your place last night.”
My brows shot up in surprise. “Who told… Dylan, right?”
Mika nodded. “I ripped him a new asshole for compromising your privacy, but he assured me that Max was as trustworthy as Nick and Sanna.”
“I think he might be, too.”
The corners of Mika’s mouth curled slightly. “Did you find out why he was giving you such a hard time?”
“No, and it doesn’t matter. Either Max and I will come to an understanding as friends or we’ll co-exist in the club. I’ve learned to tolerate the few narrow-minded Dominants who are here. I can do the same with Max if I have to.”
“He’s still a guest of the club. If his behavior is annoying and he persists taunting you, I want to know.”
“Sure.”
“That wasn’t a question, let alone a rhetorical one.” Mika narrowed his eyes.
I rolled mine. “Yes, boss.”
He stared at me for several long seconds. “You look more relaxed than you have in a long time.”
Yeah, well…you would, too, if you’d had the world fucked out from beneath your feet.
As the heat of guilt rolled up my chest, I jumped from the couch before it could reach my cheeks. “Time to get the bar set up for tonight. I’ll see you downstairs later.”
“Sammie,” Mika called out to me as I reached the door. I peeked back at him from over my shoulder. “Try not to get hurt, sweetheart.”
Fuck! He knew. I obviously wasn’t hiding the satisfied woman very well. Mika knew Max and I had done the sweet, dirty deed. Dammit!
“I won’t,” I croaked, then dashed from his office.
The sounds of whips, paddles, whimpers, and moans blended with the sizzle of violet wands unleashing ozone to mix with the scent of leather and sex. The familiar cacophony was soothing.
Nick, Dylan, Sanna, and Max breached the foyer through the wide velvet curtain. A ripple of arousal I didn’t want to feel slid through me. As Max locked his gaze on mine, a sad smile lifted the corners of his mouth. I wanted to sprint across the dungeon and kiss those magical lips until I was senseless. Instead, I jerked him a nod and then focused on wiping down the bar. I couldn’t control the zaps of lightning setting my traitorous body on fire, but I could keep a grip on my outward reaction to the man. My heart thrummed and my blood pumped like lava. My clit tingled as if anticipating an invitation to another orgasm party.
I inwardly scolded my hormones as a massive shadow moved over the bar, darkening the spot I polished. I didn’t have to look up to know it was Max. I could feel the heat of his body…smell him, like an animal senses its mate.
Stop being ridiculous. You fucked him. That hardly qualifies as being marked as his mate. Get real!
I wanted to believe the chastising voice in my head, but in my heart, I knew we’d more than fucked. We’d carelessly intensified the weird and highly combustible connection between us.
“Good evening, Mistress Sammie,” he murmured, a hint of disdain in his voice.
“Diet cola, please.”
Head down, I prepared his order and placed it on the bar atop a napkin.
“Sam,” he whispered softly. “Look at me.”
I slowly raised my head and was nearly taken out at the knees. He was once again opening his soul to me. In those sparkling green eyes, I saw apology, reassurance, trust, honesty, and a wealth of sadness, swirling in a storm of want and desire.
“Are you okay?”
I swallowed tightly and nodded.
“Did your door get replaced?”
Again, I nodded, unable to trust my voice to keep from quivering.
Dammit. Just one look and he was crashing through my heart like he’d done to my damn door. Like a riptide, there was no way to keep from being dragged out to sea.
“After the club closes, can we go somewhere to talk?” he quietly asked.
I shook my head, denying his request. With one slow blink, Max slammed the door of emotions shut and barred me. His lips flattened to a thin line.
“I have errands to run in the morning,” I lied. “I’ll need to get to sleep as soon as I can.”
“I promise I won’t keep you up too late.”
“I-I’ll see what I can do.”
“Master Max. I would have gladly served your drink, as well,” Savannah announced, moving in beside him.
“It’s all right, girl. You only have two hands. Save them for your Masters. But to keep you from having to make another trip to the bar, I’ll help you carry our drinks back to the table.”
“Thank you, Sir. I appreciate that.” She grinned.
I couldn’t help but smile. Sanna’s bubbly personality was contagious. “What would you and your Masters like, sweetheart?”
