If only

Chapter One

If only trying to be a hero wasn’t so disgusting.

The center of the Tampa police station stank of sweat and fear and blood. And death. Holding her breath, Sally Hart trotted across the noisy hub to the investigations department.

In the quiet hallway, she slowed, giving her stomach time to crawl back out of her throat. When she’d started school to be a computer forensics specialist in the law-enforcement arena—as close to a hero as a nerd could get—no one had mentioned these minor details.

Really, blood and bodily wastes should remain in a body, not out. She gave herself a shake. Onward.

Dan Sawyer’s office door stood open. Seated at his desk, the detective waved her in.

“Hey, Dan.” Sally walked in. “The lieutenant said you needed my help.”

Before Dan could speak, Sally spotted the owner of Tampa’s exclusive BDSM club standing inside the door. “Mas—”Duh, don’t call him Master Z. “Uh, it’s a surprise to see you here, Sir.”

Black-haired, gray-eyed, in his midforties, Master Z was one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever met. In the Shadowlands, he wore only black, and she was a bit scandalized to find him in a pure white shirt and dark tie. But not even standard business attire could diminish the sense of power he exuded.

She had a feeling her jeans and tucked-in polo shirt didn’t convey anything except, maybe, clean.

“Sally.” Master Z held out his hand. When she put her fingers in his, he tugged her a step closer to study her with a frown. “How are you doing?”

I’m lonely, and I want to come home to the Shadowlands. “I’m fine.” God, she was such a liar.

And he knew. One brow inched up.

“Actually,” she said in a rush, “I wanted to talk to you. I broke up with Frank and…” And she just couldn’t tell him her request. She hadn’t been able to call the Shadowlands and ask, and now, here she was in front of him and still choked on the words.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out, little one,” he said.

“Oh, well.” She looked down, absurdly relieved that enough time had passed for her bruised face to heal. Why did choosing a creep for a boyfriend make the girl feel like a loser? How could she possibly ask Master Z to—

“Would you like to return to the trainees?” he asked gently.

She clamped her jaw shut, fighting tears, and nodded.

“It will be nice to have you back, Sally. I’ll put you on the schedule starting Saturday.”

Joy welled inside her. She could return to her friends. Could try again to find someone…special. A Dom of her own. “Thank you, Sir.” And just like that, she found a smile.

“You’re very welcome.”

God, she loved Master Z. Not as a potential master—no way—and she’d been thrilled when he married Jessica. But he always made her feel…special. As if he found her delightful.

After kicking Frank out, she’d felt as enchanting as a hair ball hacked up by a cat.

“It’ll be good to see you in the club again.” Dan tossed his pen on his paperwork and leaned back in his chair with a smile.

“Thanks, Dan.” On his desk was a photo of his wife and son. “Awww.” Could the beaming black-haired baby really be over seven months now? “Zane looks adorable—and Kari looks tired. How’s she doing?”

Although he answered, “Fine,” his mouth had flattened. He was obviously not a happy camper, which was strange, since he adored Kari and his baby.

Sally frowned. As soon as school was out, she’d try to catch up with her friends. Kari and Dan lived only a few blocks away. Easy enough to make a little impromptu visit.

Meantime… “Lieutenant Hoffman said you had a laptop you needed me to get into?”

Dan nodded. “I do. One of the men forgot his password, and we need the files he has on the hard drive. You got some time right now?”

“You bet.” Breaking into computers was one of her favorite things.

Her phone rang, and she gave the display a quick check. Ugh. Frank. He’d taken to calling her every couple of days since they’d split up, which was ridiculous. She swiped the REJECT CALL icon.

“So, where’s the laptop?” Dan’s desk held only a regular computer flat screen. Beside the monitor lay an open folder labeled Harvest Association. Oh, she knew that name. They were the organization who’d been kidnapping women for slaves. Leaning forward slightly, she casually did an upside-down read, and… Wait just one little minute here. “Why’s my name in there?”

Dan frowned and moved the paper out of reading distance.

Spoilsport.

Behind her, Master Z chuckled. “You might as well save yourself some nagging, Daniel, and indulge her curiosity.”

“Guess it’s not confidential information any longer.” Dan glanced up at her. “Last fall, they had you targeted to be kidnapped.” A corner of his mouth pulled up. “Seems they thought you’d be perfect for the rebellious slave auction.”

“Me?” A chill ran through her as she realized she’d have been a slave if Master Z hadn’t sent her away. Linda and Kim had suffered horrors at the hands of the slavers. “Haven’t those stupid Federal agents closed the Harvest Association down yet?”

“All but the northeast section.” Turning his chair around, Dan motioned toward a table against the wall. “There’s the laptop. After I escort Z out, I’ll be back to give you some ideas of what Brendan thought his password might be.”

Oh please, as if I need help? “Sure.” As the two men left, Sally started toward the laptop…and paused to stare at the report containing her name. She could swear it was calling to her. Saaaaally. What had the asshole kidnappers said about her?

Curiosity itched at her worse than any mosquito bite. And, look, her cell—complete with camera—was conveniently right there in her hand. Ignoring her second—and third—thoughts, she snapped shots of the papers scattered over Dan’s desk.

God, I am a bad, bad person.

After shoving her phone into her pocket, she virtuously sat down in front of the laptop.

Such was the power of a guilty conscience, she’d finished the job before Dan returned. Not that hacking in was difficult. Seriously, what kind of fool uses a pet name for his password?

In the Shadowlands that weekend, Sally set dirty glasses from a table onto her tray. The pounding bass of Nine Inch Nails from the dance floor drowned out her heavy sigh. I’m tired. My bare feet hurt. I want to go home.

As she stretched the ache out of her back, she looked around. On the left, a new Dom had completed setting up a suspension scene.

On the right, Mistress Anne was flogging a lanky male submissive.

At one time, Sally would have stopped to admire the slender brunette’s technique.

Then again, at one time, Sally had loved being in the Shadowlands.

But somehow, the magic had faded—damn you, Frank—and she wanted it back. Maybe she could carry a Tinker Bell wand. Instant magic, right? Or maybe a stick like Harry Potter used. No, Tinker Bell’s wand was prettier and required less effort.

“Here you go.” A sour-looking Dom walking past handed her a dirty glass.

“Why, thank you, Sir,” Sally said in a saccharine voice. Someone was in dire need of a little happiness charm. What would he do if she bopped him with a magic wand? Nah, the sparkling dust might catch in his overabundant chest hair and look like stars in bondage.

Shaking her head, she swiped a wet cloth over the table. Jeez, she was in the Shadowlands. Why did she feel so miserable?

The BDSM club hadn’t changed. The sounds were familiar—the music, the slapping of whips, floggers, and hands against tender flesh, the crying and moaning punctuated by occasional sharp cries. The perimeter of the mansion’s bottom floor held St. Andrew’s crosses, spanking benches, cages, rope spiderwebs, stocks, and chain stations. In the center, at an oblong, gleaming wooden bar, members chatted with the gregarious bartender.

So if the Shadowlands hadn’t changed, the problem must be with her. What a purely upsetting thought.

She swung by the bar to unload the empties and nudged past some single Doms scoping out a group of unattached submissives.

Sally knew the Doms. Had played with most of them. Had usually annoyed them. None had clicked for her. And wasn’t that a stupid phrase? Had clicked. Did that mean when meeting the right person, something inside would make a noise like hitting a button on a mouse—select this man.

Didn’t that sound a little ridiculous to anyone else?

And yet, what she wouldn’t give to have some clicking going on. But face it, her God-I-want-you mouse selector was busted. None of her scenes had been that great, and she was tired of playing with bungling Doms.

She nodded a greeting at the men and headed out to clean more tables and take orders. Be fair. Most of the guys weren’t incompetent. She was too fussy. And…and withdrawn. Even with skilled Doms, she somehow tucked her emotions away to a place where nothing could reach them…probably in the same location as her broken clicker.

With a snort of exasperation at her idiotic thoughts, she stopped to watch Master Marcus restrain Gabi in the stocks, then tease her with his hands until her face flushed pink.

Gabi and Marcus had clicked right away.

Why could everyone else find a good Dom, when she couldn’t?

For a little while, she’d thought she had found someone. She’d even quit the club’s trainee program to be his slave. Yes, Frank had been intelligent. Had been masterful. Had been perfect.

Frank had been Frankenstein.

“Hey, it’s good to see you, Sally. Where’ve you been?” A burly, older Dom smiled at her.

“I-I just took some time off for a bit.” Thinking I’d found the Dom of my dreams.

Her smile was so unsuccessful that his eyes narrowed in his bulldog face. “Right. I heard that you hooked up with—”

Before he finished, she pretended to recognize someone and hurried past. She felt the heat in her cheeks. Poor submissive couldn’t find herself a Dom, even after being a trainee for so long. Master Z felt sorry for her that she’d fallen for a loser. Maybe all the other Doms did too.

Excuse me, but did I issue invitations to a pity party? She was the only person allowed to feel sorry for her.

“Oh, sister, what’s wrong?” Rainie walked over, a tray in one hand. The trainee’s belly dancer’s costume made the most of such lush curves that Sally felt underendowed. “You look like you just stepped on your pet turtle.”

Sally shuddered. “Ew. Major disgusting.” She could almost hear the crunch of the tiny shell.

“True, but that’s how you look.” Rainie bumped a hip against Sally’s. “You’re supposed to be overjoyed to be back, not all quiet.”

Bouncy Sally, that’s me. Scene with anyone, fuck them as well. The more the merrier. Why had she thought screwing around with everyone would find her a Dom? “Guess I need to work my way back into it.”

“I know what you need—some fun. It’s time to raise some hackles, upset some Masters. How do you feel about pissing off the unpissoffable Mistress Anne?”

“Well.” Picking on the average Doms wasn’t a challenge, but going after the experienced, powerful Shadowlands Masters and Mistresses? That took skill. Courage. Daring.

Intrigued, Sally leaned a hip against an unoccupied leather couch. Pulling a joke on Mistress Anne would be about as safe as playing catch with nitroglycerin. Perilous pranks—a surefire way to raise her spirits. “We’ll die in pain, but it will be worth it. Got some ideas?”

“You know her submissive, Joey?”

“Sure.”

“He says she’s squicked out by big bugs. Any big bugs.”

“Reeeaaally.” The idea was awfully tempting. “Being supportive trainees, we should help her overcome such an unreasonable fear.”

“My thought exactly.”

“Uzuri will want in.” Who else? Sally saw Maxie near the back of the room and shook her head. “Not Maxie or Tanner. Way too nice.”

No one ever called Sally nice. She’d never aspired to such a designation…until Frank. Then she’d tried, bent over backward to be his sweet slave. And failed miserably.

Rainie tapped her fingers against her tray. “We could get spiders. Cockroaches. Beetles…”

Sally yanked herself back into the plan. “The bugs have to be fake, or Master Z will make us catch them, then clean the entire room with toothbrushes.”

Rainie winced. “Not a good chore for me—my tits would drag on the floor. Imitation insects it is.”

“I’ll gather what I can. You and Uzuri do the same. Then we’ll figure out the perfect date for the Night of the Monster Zombie bugs.”

“There’s my Sally girl. Been really boring here without your clever, twisty brain.” Rainie glanced over at the front wall clock. “We’re off duty in a couple of minutes. The new Dom, Saxon, is going to commandeer the poly room for furry play. Want to be a kitten or puppy?”

She didn’t feel at all bouncy and cute…more like a badger. A very bad-tempered badger liable to bite off dangling boy bits. Imagine the mess. “Not this time.”

“Then I’ll see you later.” After a quick squeeze, Rainie cheerfully sashayed toward the rear of the room. Even the tattoos covering her back looked happy.

Sally felt the prickle of tears in her eyes. Face it, she’d only returned to the Shadowlands because she’d missed her buddies.

Not to find a Dom. As she filled her tray again, her shoulders slumped. Pretty sad to realize a dream had died. Years ago, her mama had blown bubbles, sending the iridescent balls floating over the green lawn. Sally had caught them. Time after time, the bubble would pop, leaving only a wet spot on her little hands.

There was a dirty analogy in the story, she knew, wet spots and things blown up and deflating too soon. But she wasn’t in a naughty mood. More of an all-my-bubbles-escaped mood.

Whining again. Sheesh. She set her tray down on the bar top with an annoyed thump and realized she stood next to Master Dan.

“You look tired, sweetheart.” Although he wore the gold-edged black leather vest indicating he was serving as a dungeon monitor, he still came across as a detective.

Scary thought since she had a guilty conscience the size of Master Cullen. “My graduation’s coming up. Is Kari here tonight?”

“No. She’s home with Zane.”

“Home? But…” Kari loves the Shadowlands. Sally bit back the words. She’d been immersed in grad school and hadn’t kept current. Her friend had a baby now; maybe her idea of what was fun had changed.

Instead of moving away as she’d hoped, Dan leaned an elbow on the bar. “Is Hoffman overworking you?”

“Nah.” Digging information out of computers was even more entertaining than playing online war games. “And the lieutenant is a good guy. Did I remember to say thank you?” Dan had pulled the strings to get her the computer forensics internship at his station.

She owed him…and instead, she’d snooped. Guilt tightened her shoulders.

“Not a problem. He says you’re more skilled than any software person there.” A smile lightened the angular lines of his face. “You going to stay on after you graduate?”

“Thinking about it.” As her remorse built, she couldn’t help shifting her weight and retreating a step.

His eyes narrowed. “Sally, what have—”

“Sir.” A young male submissive skidded to a halt beside them. “We need a DM in the back.”

“Coming.” Master Dan nodded to Sally and followed the sub toward the theme rooms.

Oh boy, saved by the subbie. I’m a bad Sally. If he knew she’d snapped pictures of those Harvest Association documents—or worse, what she’d done with the information—he’d put her in handcuffs and not the fun kind. But really, that list of e-mail addresses on paper was a God-given sign she must lend a hand.

Those stupid Feds needed a good geek in their corner.

“How’s it going, pet?”

Sally blinked and pulled herself out of software-land to find Master Cullen watching her with his thick brown brows drawn together. “Uh. Fine.” She forced a smile. “All finished cleaning up my section.” She gave the tray a push forward.

He glanced at his submissive, Andrea. “Can you get that, love?”

Andrea smiled. “Si, Señor.” Before picking up the tray, the tawny-haired woman patted Sally’s hand. “You okay?”

Christ on a crutch, did she appear that wrung out? “I’m good. Just tired.” And frustrated and lonely and starting to grasp a sad truth. Even after she finished her Master’s degree and left school, her love life might not improve.

“The first shift of trainees is free to play now. Has Nolan set you up with someone yet?” Cullen asked.

She shrugged. The idea of doing a scene was…blah. She didn’t feel playful. Or sexy. Or anything. “No.”

She leaned her forearms on the bar top, her shoulders sagging. Might as well go home. She glanced around for Master Nolan. He was in charge of the trainees tonight and would get pissed off if she left without permission. Annoying Master Nolan wasn’t something any submissive wanted to do…although his sub, Beth, said she poked at him occasionally just to watch his face go all hard.

Wish I had someone to poke at. She’d thought Frank would be that Dom, but his response to being teased had been horrible. The yelling hadn’t bothered her much, but when he’d backhanded her? That was not only the final straw but the entire pile of hay.

How humiliating to realize she’d chosen a man like her father.

“Sally.”

She turned toward the sound of Nolan’s gravelly voice.

Oh hell. At the sight of Galen Kouros beside the Dom, Sally almost cringed. Surely the FBI agent hadn’t discovered what she was up to with Dan’s records. She took a hasty step back, bumped into a bar stool, and a person. “Sorry,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. Her stomach dropped.

The big man behind her was Vance Buchanan, Galen’s partner. He gripped her arm with a powerful hand to steady her. “Easy there, sweetie.” As he smiled down at her, his sharp blue eyes held both humor and something unrelated to crime—the potent regard of a man.

When she looked away from Vance, Galen had moved closer. Meeting his intense dark eyes was like being sucked into a black river whirlpool…and drowning.

“Breathe, little girl,” Vance said in her ear, making her jump.

God, these two. He still had his hand wrapped around her upper arm. She glanced over her shoulder. “Let go.”

Vance’s lips twitched, drawing her attention to his face. Square jaw, flat, hard cheekbones like a Celtic warrior. Brown hair just long enough to tie back with a leather band. Yeah, she could envision him running over the Highlands beside Liam Neeson, wielding a broadsword.

And bedding everything in sight. After all, he and Galen were players. They didn’t do serious, wanted only fun and fucking. Normally how she preferred her guys, but these two were…scary. “Please, let go.”

He lifted his chin in acknowledgment and released her. The loss of his warm hand created an unsettling ache deep inside. But she could breathe again. She turned to Master Nolan, ignoring the FBI agents. “Master Nolan, I want to leave.”

“I agreed you’d have a scene with Master Galen and Master Vance,” Nolan said, his voice laying out her doom.

Her mouth went dry. How’d she forget the Feds were now Masters? In the Shadowlands, the title was given only to very experienced, very powerful, and very conscientious Doms. In return for teaching and monitoring activities, the Masters received extra privileges, especially with the trainees.

In other words, she was screwed.

The infinitesimal deepening of the lines at the edge of Galen’s eyes meant he’d followed her thoughts. “Show us your cuffs.” His voice was deeper than Vance’s, with a strong Maine accent, and his dropped r’s turned your into yo-uh.

Wordlessly, she held her arms out.

“Yellow, blue, green ribbons means you enjoy mild pain, bondage, and sex. Is that correct?”

The pushy jerk. He’d have already pulled her records and checked her limits list. Any Master would. So his question was pure intimidation to build anticipation—or apprehension—of what they might do. And it would be they, since the two topped together. The tingle creeping up her spine said his technique worked, whether she recognized it or not. She nodded.

A tug on her hair drew her attention over…and up…to Vance. “You’ve never had a problem verbalizing anything before, sweetie. Don’t start now.”

Why did she let these two get away with shaking her up? She straightened her shoulders. “Yes, Sir. That’s very clever of you, Sir,” she said to Galen in a snotty tone before looking at the trainee Master. “Master Nolan, I don’t intend to stay. I’m not feeling good. At all. I need—”

“Are you ill, Sally?” Master Z’s rich voice made her close her eyes with a combination of hope and despair. No telling what the owner of the Shadowlands would decide. He could overrule Nolan. But he undoubtedly knew she didn’t feel ill. No one successfully lied to Master Z.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

The skeptical tilt of Galen’s black eyebrows indicated he hadn’t bought into her I’m-so-sick story either. Not even close.

“I’m quite tired, Master Z,” she said truthfully.

Master Z smiled slightly and squeezed her shoulder. “You are, indeed. But I’d call it mostly mental and emotional exhaustion.” His brows drew together. “I don’t know what’s happening in your life, little one, but if you don’t shed some stress, you’re going to get flattened.”

“I just need to sleep,” she protested.

“Do you actually sleep when you go to bed?”

Step by step, he was backing her into a corner. She shook her head.

“I thought not. After your graduation, we are going to have a long talk. For now…” His attention shifted to the FBI agents. “She’s not up to her usual speed, so be careful,” he said quietly. “However, I think getting out of her head will be good for her.”

She actually glared at Z. “Don’t I have anything to say about this?”

His face turned…not cold, but unyielding. “In the Shadowlands, submissives always have a safe word. As a trainee, you have little else. That’s why you wanted to be a trainee…to surrender control.” He touched her cheek lightly. “That’s what will happen tonight.”

He nodded to Galen and Vance and walked away, Nolan beside him.

Sally’s gaze went from Galen to Vance, and she felt surrounded, even though they were only two men. “Well, you won. Now what?”

Galen studied her for a minute, his expression unreadable, and her flippant words bounced off him as if he wore armor. He stepped forward, invading her personal space, so close she could feel his body heat.

Her retreat bumped her into the concrete wall called Vance. He gripped her shoulders, firmly enough to stymie any chance of moving. He had her restrained without rope or chains.

A tremor ran through her at the exciting sensation. Dammit. “Is all this crowding necessary?”

Galen cupped her chin in his palm, and his gaze effortlessly trapped hers. “I know we scare you, pretty little pet.” His lips twitched. “In your case, that’s a good thing. But don’t let fear lead you into being disrespectful, eh?”

He held her gaze…held it and held it, and with each fleeting second, she sank, dropping into acceptance, into calmness.

After an ocean of time had passed, he murmured, “Good.”

When he took his hand away from her face, she’d have staggered if Vance hadn’t had his body pressed to hers.

“Bondage table?” Vance asked.

Galen nodded and led the way across the room. Dressed in black slacks, button-down shirt, and shoes, he presented a smoother appearance than Vance—also in black but wearing jeans, tight T-shirt, leather belt, and boots. Forceful versus laid-back, sleekly muscular versus football-player size, darkly Greek versus Scottish warrior, smooth versus rugged. They shouldn’t be able to work together, let alone co-top, but they managed without missing a single step.

Vance tucked her against his side, his arm behind her giving her no choice except to follow.

Her heart was already hammering so violently she felt as if she were choking.

How could they affect her like this? She didn’t have this problem with the rest of the Masters. Sure, each of the Masters could and had made her submit, but they didn’t worry her. Maybe these two were more frightening because they ganged up on her? Every time she tried to take a stand, one would push and the other would trip her.

But she didn’t like being…intimidated. Not by them. “Listen, I don’t…”

Galen turned to regard her, and the words dried right up in her mouth. Was he always so…intense?

“Stand here, Sally.” His dark clothing made his eyes even blacker and more ominous. He ran one finger over the edge of her halter top, down the curve of one breast. “Remove this, Vance.”

Vance undid the ties and tossed her top onto a chair.

For the first time in forever, she wanted to shield herself. Her hands came up and, at a glance from Galen, went down. Galen studied her, his gaze lingering on her boy briefs.

Her breath stuttered as warmth pooled low in her belly. Damn him, she didn’t want to have sex with either one of them…and yet, she really, really did. When his lips quirked, a flush heated her cheeks.

“Not this time, pet,” he said. His smile transformed his face from terrifying to gorgeous. Compelling. “We’ll enjoy your body eventually, but tonight is for you.”

She stared at him. Seriously? But they liked sex. She’d heard the submissives marveling over how much they liked sex. Was something wrong with her that they didn’t desire her?

Galen patted the top of the bondage table and turned away without seeing if she obeyed.

Then she realized why he hadn’t worried. Vance gripped her waist and set her on the table like a doll to play with. Under his tight black shirt, his shoulders were huge and his biceps curved like boulders. He made her feel tiny.

“Down you go.” He pushed her onto her back.

To her embarrassment, her bare breasts showed just how bunched and tight her nipples had become. She tried to look away.

“Relax, Sally.” Tilting her chin up, he bent and kissed her. His lips were firm, his movements slow as he coaxed a response. When his mouth left hers, she tried to follow, and he chuckled. Then his hand was on her cheek, his mouth over hers, and he turned the kiss deep. Carnal. Making her tingle in a long surge downward.

And before she’d even caught her breath, he was using the straps on the table to restrain her arms to her sides. He put another over her waist.

“Did you know I like tying up naughty submissives?” The hunger in Vance’s gaze confirmed his words. His hands were firm as he roped her thighs together and then her ankles. A strap went across her knees.

Finished, he crossed his arms and surveyed his work.

She lifted her head and saw the ropes and straps covering her body. Jeez.

“Missed one.” Vance pushed her down and pulled another strap across the top of her forehead so she couldn’t lift her head. Couldn’t move at all. Feeling more immobilized than she’d ever experienced, she couldn’t keep from squirming. From attempting to get free.

Her body understood she was caught—trapped—and the table beneath her seemed to shake.

Vance’s mouth tipped up. “Now that’s just pretty,” he said before giving her an easy kiss. “She’s ready, pard.”

Both Doms walked around the table, tugging and checking the straps.

“Numbness, tingling? Cold?” Galen asked, his New England accent broadening his deep baritone.

Her attempt to shake her head got nowhere and set up an instinctive flutter in the pit of her stomach.

Vance’s smile increased at whatever he saw in her face. Although he seemed more easygoing than Galen, the depths in his dark blue eyes were disturbing.

“Well?” Galen prompted, pulling her attention to him.

“No, Sir,” she whispered, then scowled. Where oh where, has my backbone gone? “I’m really quite fine, thank you, Master Galen. And how are you today?”

“You going to chatter the way you do for other Doms?” Galen asked.

“Of course.”

He pulled a leather strip from their toy bag and tossed it to Vance. “Gag her.”

“Hey, I don’t like gags.” She started to struggle. What if she needed to talk?

Galen took out two small rubber balls and squeezed them to make them squeak. “These are if you need to safeword.” He tucked one into her left hand, then the right. “Show me you can use them.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She made the balls squeak and continued until they sounded as if someone was murdering a flock of baby birds.

“Sally.” Just one word in Galen’s bottomless voice and Sally couldn’t force her fingers to continue. Even though the squeaky toys went silent, her pulse made waves of sound in her head.

“Open, sweetheart.” Vance lifted the leather strip, snorted when her mouth clamped shut, then pressed a spot on the hinges of her jaw to open it. As he pushed the gag in and strapped it on, her hand closed convulsively on a rubber ball, getting a high squeak.

Vance leaned a forearm beside her and smiled down, his light brown hair falling over his forehead. “Too tight?”

“Umh.”

“You are so cute.” His grin was devastatingly handsome and totally scary because he didn’t appear concerned about her answer at all. “One blink is yes. No blink means no. Is the gag too tight?”

Everything in her yelled for her to blink, but the straps weren’t uncomfortable. What scared her was their lack of concern for what she wanted or what she thought. They’d just shut her right up. She glowered.

His smile widened. “We pissed off a submissive, Galen,” he said.

“Oh, damn.” The amusement in Galen’s response made Sally want to hit him. He rested his hand against the side of her face. “We’re not going to hurt you, pet. Not even going to touch your pussy. We’ll play with you some and release you.”

Her muscles untensed…slightly. But why hadn’t he explained earlier? Her eyes narrowed.

“Why didn’t I tell you before?” Galen drew a finger over her cheek and around her ear. She saw no mercy in his face. “I didn’t want to.”

His voice wasn’t cruel…just matter-of-fact. They’d do what they wanted. She knew they weren’t careless like some Doms, but they were dominant, no ifs, ands, or buts. Why was the knowledge so very exciting?

With a faint smile, Galen moved down to the end of the table and grasped her left foot. Rubbing, massaging with firm hands.

Oh God, it felt good. Her feet always hurt after a couple of hours of going barefoot. She couldn’t keep back the sigh of pleasure.

As Galen continued, something brushed her stomach and moved slowly toward her breasts. Her eyes popped open.

Leaning on one arm, Vance trailed a finger across her belly, just above the waist strap. Making circles. Crosses. Each movement brought his touch higher on her body. His face wasn’t—wasn’t excited or filled with lust. He was simply amusing himself.

His light touch on her belly was so different from Galen’s strong hands on her foot that she felt…confused.

Galen switched to her other leg, and oh God, she might die from the pleasure. Why were they being sweet to her?

Before she could settle into enjoying Galen’s ministrations, Vance ran a finger along the extremely sensitive underside of her breast. Her back tried to arch—the straps kept her flat. Jeez.

She looked up to see him studying her face, reading her every little twitch. Undoubtedly mentally marking that area as one “of interest.” His finger circled her left breast, then her right.

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.”