This is who I am

Chapter Nineteen

On a worn-smooth wooden pew, Linda sat in the church waiting for the ceremony to begin. She’d been disappointed when Sam had called to tell her to go on to Jessica and Z’s wedding without him. Nonetheless, she was delighted to be present.

How could anyone not love the ritual when a couple formally began their life together? For that one moment, no second thoughts were allowed to intrude. Even the air in the church seemed filled with joyful anticipation.

She smiled. She’d been so young when she and Frederick had married. If she’d waited to gain a bit more experience, perhaps she’d have made a wiser choice. But then she wouldn’t have Brenna and Charles. And really, her marriage had been more happy than sad.

A gurgle of laughter came from beside her. Having defeated the other submissives, Sally cuddled Zane, Kari’s adorable baby. He was having a wonderful time tugging on her long hair. Tanner, the male trainee, had squeezed closer, obviously awaiting his chance to snatch the baby for himself.

The rest of the row was filled with all the single Shadowlands submissives who weren’t serving as bridesmaids. The club had shown up in force, filling the church with the wonderful diversity of the membership—not only a range of ethnicities, but also the wide variety of sexual, gender, and relationship choices.

Obviously, Z wasn’t ashamed of his friends. Linda shook her head. Once they married, would Z and Jessica still manage to balance the BDSM side of their lives with the vanilla world?

In the bridal suite, Jessica looked at herself in the mirror. Thank God, Gabi was an expert with makeup. Jessica’s hands had been shaking so hard that she’d have ended up with mascara everywhere…and probably have poked her eye out with the wand. “I’m getting married,” she told herself.

Her bridesmaids burst into laughter, and Andrea added, “No. Really?”

Jessica turned on the chair. Damn, she loved these women—the submissives of the Shadowlands Masters. It had seemed so appropriate that their groomsmen and bridesmaids would be the attached couples in the Masters. Kari and Dan, Beth and Nolan, Andrea and Cullen, Gabi and Marcus, Kim and Raoul. She gave them a watery smile.

Beth set her hands on her hips. “Don’t you start that crying business. Gabi already put her makeup kit away.”

“No, Ma’am. I won’t, Ma’am.” Jessica grinned at Beth. “You were such a cute Mistress at the party. What did Nolan say when he saw you all Dommed up?”

“He said I was cute too. But then he wanted to see if I could dominate him. As if.” The slender redhead rubbed her bottom. “Don’t ever let Z get one of those evil stick things. That thwap really hurts.”

As everyone laughed, Jessica heard Z outside the bridal room. Even after two years, she still got quivers when she heard his deep voice.

In the hallway, her mother said something that sounded like a protest.

Z answered firmly. “This is a tradition also.” Ignoring the sputtering response, he walked past her mother and Aunt Eunice into the room and set a large gift bag on the floor. When he spotted Jessica, still in her underwear, his eyes warmed. “You’re absolutely lovely, kitten.”

Under his gaze… She felt beautiful.

He glanced at the women. “Give us a few minutes, please.” No matter how politely phrased, it was a command from a Dom to a group of submissives.

Without a word, they disappeared into the hallway where her mother was having a whisperfest with Eunice.

What in the world was going on? “Zachary?”

“Try again.” His eyes had turned a dark gray that melted her insides.

“Master?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled—the best reward she’d ever found. He rested his hands on her shoulders. “We decided you’d receive your submissive collar in the wedding ceremony instead of a separate one. Since we’re not in a formal Master/slave relationship, that seemed right.”

She nodded. They’d had a long discussion about how to integrate everything.

“But I decided I want more.”

“More?”

He lifted her to her feet. His faint smile and the glint in his eyes sent a tremor deep into her bones. “You’re mine, Jessica. My submissive. My wife. And the ceremony makes the spouse role more important than the submissive.” He opened the bag he’d brought into the room and took out a…

“A corset?” A new one of pure white lace and satin that would go from her breasts to her hips and as beautiful in its own way as her wedding dress.

“Indeed.” His gaze darkened. “Strip, please.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Now?”

At the slight rise of his chin, she hurriedly pulled off her silky bra and thong.

“Hands up.” As he wrapped the corset around her, she frowned at the perfect fit. “Where did you get this?”

“Your wedding gown seamstress used your other corset as a guide and changed your wedding dress accordingly.”

No wonder the woman had that odd gleam in her eyes during the last fitting.

Z laced up the corset far more quickly than any man should. With a darkly wicked chuckle, he said, “Brace yourself, little one.”

She felt tugging and more tugging as the corset tightened. And tightened. “I can’t breathe.”

“Give it a minute.” He patted her bottom. “Move around the room.”

As she walked, the corset loosened or maybe her insides were being squashed up against her lungs.

After a couple of minutes, he horrified her by tightening the laces until she could only squeak. With firm hands, he turned her around to face him, and his face held the stern, caring expression that had dropped her heart at his feet on the first night they’d met. “The way you look at me… I love you, Jessica.”

To gain his approval, she would let him lace her to the width of a beanpole.

His gaze heated. Then he shook his head. “Ravishing the bride before the wedding would be bad form.” A crease appeared in his cheek as he ran his finger along the top of the corset where her breasts were pressed upward into X-rated exposure. “Hopefully the tailor calculated correctly, or you’ll give the preacher a heart attack.”

The warmth of his fingers seared her skin, slid deep inside her.

“I’m looking forward to freeing these pretty breasts and then taking you. Hard. And easy. And slow. And fast. All night.”

She closed her eyes as her insides turned to lava, and she dampened. Where was that thong, by the way? She’d definitely need to wear—

“No underwear, Jessica.”

What? Her eyes opened to meet her Master’s steel-gray gaze. “But—”

“As you walk down the aisle to me—and for the rest of the evening—you’ll feel the tightness of the corset that I laced you into,” he said, his voice deeper, authority resonating with every word. “You’ll feel the control I have over you. Over your body…and your life.” He brushed her lips with his, leaving her wanting more. “The collar I’ll put on you will be the outward symbol that you’re mine. But as with all power exchanges, the real truth is buried deep within, just as this symbol of my control is hidden from the world under your dress. Do you understand?”

As if something had slid into place, she felt…right. Balanced. Even if he wasn’t beside her, he still exerted his control. “I love you, Master.”

Due to a downed fence and scattered cattle, Sam had told Linda to go to the wedding without him since he’d be late. He came in the church’s side door and took a seat at the end of the third row as quietly as possible. Looked like he’d arrived in good time. A shame he’d missed seeing the bride come down the aisle though.

Stretching out his legs, he watched as the ceremony proceeded with both dignity and warmth, quite typical of Z yet with some of Jessica’s exuberance.

The Dom had done well in selecting his mate. Had gone slow after meeting her. Sam knew Z hadn’t wanted to push his lover into a commitment, especially since he was older. But she was thirty, and a woman usually knew her own mind by then. Jessica might be submissive, but she assuredly had her own strong opinions.

As the couple exchanged rings to the usual vows, the bride radiated happiness.

Sam sighed, feeling on the older side. Jessica had been delightful as she ventured into the club, into the lifestyle, and into a relationship. Although they’d started with playing in the bedroom, Z’s dominance had slowly extended outward. They hadn’t ended up with a Master/slave relationship, but the D/s dynamic was definitely part of their everyday lives.

He had to admit to feeling some envy.

His ex-wife had regarded BDSM with loathing, and he’d never tried to change her mind. But in the Shadowlands, he saw what he’d missed as the couples worked out what fit them. Some had gone from Master/slave to a limited power exchange; some went the other way.

As he glanced across the aisle, his gaze fell on the row of submissives who weren’t bridesmaids. All were beaming, some in tears. Why did women cry at these things? Uzuri, Dara, and Rainie sat in a line. Sally was bouncing Kari’s baby on her knee, while Tanner diverted the boy with the BDSM symbol on his keychain. Next to Sally was… Sam straightened.

Linda. Like a typical female, she’d primped up. Rather than the heavy makeup she’d worn at the bachelorette party, today she’d gone for quiet and classy. Her hair had grown long enough for her to pull it back in some complicated braid. Her dark green dress hugged her curves and made her skin glow.

He wished she were sitting beside him.

In front of the altar, Cullen handed Z a glittering strand—a necklace—and Sam blinked in surprise. Z planned to collar Jessica in front of vanilla guests? That took balls.

“This chain of links is a symbol of the events that drew us together.” As Z held up a choker of diamond-encrusted links, his lips quirked. “From a car in a ditch to you rescuing women and me rescuing you.”

Sam heard suppressed laughter at the reminder of how Jessica would charge in if she felt another submissive was in trouble.

Jessica gazed up at Z, and her voice was soft but steady. “Since I don’t have any jewelry handy”—she gave him a teasing look—“I offer you the gift of myself: heart, mind, body, and soul. I trust you”—everyone in the lifestyle heard the unspoken Master—“and I’ll wear your gift with joy.” Jessica’s need to offer all of herself was obvious to every Dom in the room and one of the most beautiful things Sam had ever seen.

When she pulled up her hair and bent her neck, Z fastened on the necklace. He lifted her chin. “Kitten, I vow to be worthy of the trust you’ve given me. I’ll protect you, push you to grow, and cherish you with all my heart.”

Z drew her into his arms, and his voice was only audible to the people in the first few rows as he murmured into her hair, “Mine.”

Even as Sam felt his eyes sting, amusement trickled through him. Apparently, he wouldn’t be teasing the ladies about their tears after all.

Linda decided the Florida weather had cooperated wonderfully with the wedding, and sunny skies reigned above Z’s private gardens behind the Shadowlands. With a backdrop of purple fountain grass, a five-person band was playing oldies for the guests at tables dotting the green lawn. Linda hummed along, pleased with the selection of tunes. Thank goodness the happy couple hadn’t gone for the edgy techno music played in the Shadowlands.

The area was filling with people. Only the couple’s friends and family had attended the wedding, but the reception included business associates and hometown guests as well as all the Shadowlands members.

She shook her head, feeling at a loss. The ceremony had been lovely, and when they’d given each other D/s vows disguised as a gift of jewelry, her heart had squeezed.

It still did, because she wanted that kind of relationship for herself and Sam. The time with him, each time with him, seemed to get more serious. He demanded more from her, and she gave it. So, so willingly. The desire to offer him…everything…was terrifying.

He cared for her. She knew it, even if he didn’t speak the words. But could she give him what he wanted? Needed? He helped her scrape her house, stood up for her, and held her when she cried. He hurt her. He made love to her. What did she do for him?

He obviously liked her companionship. But she wanted to give him more than a dinner partner or someone to watch movies with. She wanted to support him. And the more she grew to care for him, the more she wanted to offer. But he was so darned self-sufficient.

Frederick had always brought home his problems. By sharing them with her, he might not have found answers, but his burden was lightened. It had been a gift she could offer. But Sam didn’t talk about his concerns. In fact, very little seemed to bother him. And she wanted not only the closeness of sharing worries, but also the joy of being able to help. To comfort and support.

Her chest tightened. Over the past couple of weeks, she’d realized she had an insecurity, something new since her kidnapping. Another one, dammit. But she couldn’t ignore the fact that she wanted Sam to talk to her. No one could possibly be more supportive than he was, yet sometimes she needed the actual words. Needed to hear what he felt about her, about their relationship.

Any woman would want to know how she fitted into a man’s life—and she’d want that no matter what—but she had to admit that the twisting of his silence into something ominous came from her own misgivings. Not his. The slavers had made her feel as if she were an animal. Just an object to fuck. And yes, this was her own screwed-up remnant of that experience, but…it was bothering her.

Linda shook her head, trying to turn her thoughts to something more cheerful.

On the lanai, the bride’s mother and aunt and a horde of women from her small town directed the catering crew, who were still setting food and drink on linen-covered tables. Z smiled at the women, making a gesture that he was leaving them in charge, before returning to the informal reception line.

Linda turned in a circle, marveling at the setting. Jessica had chosen blue and white for her colors, and somehow Z’s garden matched, from the lanai’s hanging pots that spilled over with white alyssum to blue-purple hyacinths and snowflake blooms in the flower gardens. Amazing.

“Hey, Linda.” Wearing a deep red, ruched satin sheath with a plunging neckline, Sally crossed the lawn.

Linda grinned. “I really like that gown—and your versatility. I’ve seen you in braids and a schoolgirl uniform, then dressed as a Domme for the bachelorette party, and now you look incredibly sophisticated.”

Sally gave her a mischievous grin. “I get bored easily.” In much the way that Linda had, she looked back and forth from the nearby cluster of bridesmaids to the matching gardens. “Beth did good.”

“She did all this?”

“Yeah. Z was one of her first big clients, and she busted her butt to make the Shadowlands and his private gardens special. Before, the place was pretty, but all formal. Squares and straight lines.”

“I’d say she paid him back for his trust,” Linda murmured. She’d never seen anything so luxuriant. Even without moving, she glimpsed curving garden paths, splashing fountains, more flower beds, and small, intimate nooks. “It’s like a fantasy garden.”

Overhearing, Beth turned from the bridesmaids and beamed. “Exactly what I was trying to achieve.” She walked over. “But don’t tell Z, okay? Fantasy sounds far too feminine.”

As Sally giggled, Linda choked on a laugh. “Got it.”

“Nolan and I had our wedding here,” Beth said. “It’s nice to see it used that way again.”

Linda followed Beth’s gaze to her husband. She still had trouble believing the slender redhead had married the cruel-looking man. But while Jessica was saying her vows, Beth had blown a kiss at Nolan, and his cold black eyes had warmed, his face softened.

I envy her.

Linda’s marriage to Frederick had been stable, but he hadn’t accepted who she was. To see these loving Dominant/submissive relationships was heartening.

And attending the reception had certain other benefits. “I must say, the gardens are lovely, but the human scenery is also rather fine.” Her gaze wandered to the lanai where the Masters were talking. How the black tuxedoes could make the men look even bigger, she didn’t understand.

Standing with the groomsmen, Sam wore a classic cut, dark gray suit with a white dress shirt and a silver-gray tie that matched his hair. Did the man have to look so dangerously sexy in every darn thing he wore?

“You must be looking at Sam.” Snickering, Beth mimicked wiping drool off her chin. “That’s the way I reacted when I first saw Nolan in a suit.”

Linda’s cheeks warmed. But…wow. The tailoring was superb, showing off his broad shoulders and flat stomach. She had a craving to undress him like a gift-wrapped present. Push his jacket open. Undo the shirt buttons. Run her finger down the deep line between his pectoral muscles. His eyes would light with amusement as if lit by the sun. Maybe he’d grip her hair, firmly push her to her knees, and direct her to free his cock. She’d take him in her mouth. Maybe he’d give her that look she’d never seen him use on anyone else—the one that softened his hard features and made his mouth curve just the slightest bit.

God, she loved the man. Love? She pressed a hand over the stuttering heart that had betrayed her into acting like an idiot in a romance novel. Love between Mr. Sadistic Rancher and Ms. Conservative Businesswoman. Right. How would a relationship between them even work? She still hadn’t figured out how to balance her life as it was.

Then again, love was love. It didn’t exactly conform to a person’s schedule. Her lips curved. Love. Terrifying, yet what a wonderful gift.

Her eyebrows rose when a woman walked up to the Masters and took Sam’s hand. Just like that. Sam’s smile flashed. When he touched the woman’s cheek, almost affectionately, Linda felt the bottom of her stomach drop.

Cold crept up her spine, and then she forced it down. There were lots of Shadowlands people here, and she knew…had seen him play with other women.

I don’t want him to do that. But at the pond, he’d stated they wouldn’t share. Her chest loosened, letting her breathe. She watched him. The woman might want more—he’s mine, darn you—but that touch was all Sam had given her. And she wasn’t getting his “special” smile.

“You look funny. Are you all right?” Sally asked.

Linda jumped. She’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. Beth had returned to the bridesmaids’ group, but Sally remained. “I’m okay. Just saw something that unsettled me a bit.”

“Oh, I know that feeling,” Sally muttered. She glanced around the open area, crowded with friends and family, then nodded to a cluster of Shadowlands members. “I’ve played with a lot of those guys. Usually had fun. But now and then, you get a Dom who’s a real dickhead.”

“Really?” Linda frowned. Raoul had made the place sound so safe. “In the Shadowlands?”

Sally scowled. “Master Z tries, but jerks still get in. Like one guy who just wanted blowjobs. He’d do what a sub wanted, but he wasn’t interested in Domming—just getting off. Or some will do whatever they want if you haven’t been real clear what you’ll allow.” She nodded at a lean man in a black suit. “That one slapped me. I hadn’t put it on my hard limits, but Doms usually start out light in the first scene, you know?”

Linda studied the guy. Long nose, thin lips, sandy hair. He didn’t look cruel, but she’d learned from the slavers that a man’s appearance didn’t always indicate what lay beneath. “What happened?”

“Jessica saw me crying and busted in.” Sally grinned. “She got in trouble for not calling a dungeon monitor, but Z stopped the scene.” She nodded at a younger, dark-haired Dom. “That one wanted his buddy to join our scene. Hey, I like threesomes but not with total strangers.”

Linda shook her head. Maybe she’d have enjoyed threesomes if she were younger. Amusement bubbled up. Younger and less of a stick-in-the-mud. But she was, and she didn’t want anyone but Sam touching her. “I can see how you’d get upset.”

“Yeah. Then there was a really unnerving guy who—”

“Just one guy? Not two?” When a big man stepped up behind Sally and ran his hands down her arms, Linda recognized Vance Buchanan, one of the FBI agents who’d attended the trial. “You must be talking about me, pet. I’m going to tell Galen that he’s so boring you didn’t even mention him.”

Sally spun and glared at the fair-skinned man. “I wasn’t talking about either of you.”

He had a hearty laugh. “You will be, sweetie. You will be.” He smiled at Linda, then strolled over to his partner, a shorter man with an olive complexion. After a brief conversation, Galen turned to regard Sally with eyes as dark as his hair.

When Sally stiffened, the man grinned.

“I’d have to say they do seem to unsettle you.” Linda smothered a laugh.

Although Galen had resumed talking to Vance, Sally continued to stare at them. “Those two. They’ve got tag teaming down to a science. And they make me feel stupid. I never feel stupid. I need a drink.”

As Sally managed the impressive feat of stomping away in stilettos, Linda chuckled, then found an empty table to watch Z lead Jessica out for the first dance. They looked so perfect together that a sigh escaped.

A young man nearby grinned. “What’s it about weddings that makes chicks all gushy?”

Linda huffed a laugh. He had black hair, brown eyes, and was about the same age as Charles. Her son would say exactly the same thing. “We’re suckers for romance.” She held her hand out. “I’m Linda, a friend of Jessica’s.”

“Richard.” As they shook hands, he nodded to Z. “His son.” He nudged the young man beside him. “This is my brother, Eric.”

“Nice to meet you. They make a lovely couple,” Linda said, hoping she wasn’t putting her foot in it. She’d seen Charles’s wariness with Sam. Young men could be very territorial.

“Yeah.” Eric shook his head. “I didn’t think so at first, and Mom was pissed off. But before Jessica, he used to look kinda sad. Cold.” The two boys exchanged a look.

“You couldn’t pay me enough to be a shrink to messed-up kids,” Richard said. “He needed her.”

Eric nodded. “She makes him happy.”

Linda leaned back in her chair, brows pulling together. Jessica made Z happy; he needed her. I want Sam to need me like that.

As the newlyweds circled the grassy space, Z’s expression when he looked down into Jessica’s face showed so much love that Linda’s eyes burned. Could I make Sam that happy?

The need to see him, to talk with him pulled at her, and she rose. Other dancers were flooding onto the grassy dance space. Gabi was scolding Marcus about something—at least until he yanked her up onto her tiptoes and kissed her so thoroughly that she sagged wordlessly against him. He grinned at Raoul, who had Kim on his arm, and Raoul laughed. Kim wore a gorgeous sparkling choker—a symbolic collar. Someday, when she was ready, Raoul would attach a tiny padlock and keep the key.

Z’s sons had fallen into an argument about the upcoming basketball game. Linda nodded to them before making her way toward the lanai. Around her, conversations hummed, broken occasionally by Cullen’s hearty laughter and giggles from the trainees, whom Sally had joined.

When Linda reached the lanai, she saw Sam on the far side of the Shadowlands Masters. Did she really want to squeeze her way through a bunch of men? Would Sam even want to see her when he was with the guys?

As she hesitated, something…a sound, a word, a voice…sent an icy hand of uneasiness up her spine. Her grandmother would have called it someone stepping on her grave. She took a step back, another, then headed the opposite direction. Kari would let her hold the baby.

Before she’d reached the scattered tables, an arm curved around her waist, stopping her. “You look good.”

Wasn’t it odd how Sam’s rough voice could smooth any discomfort away? Except perhaps the uneasiness he gave her just by being himself. “You too. Who knew you could wear a suit so well?”

He snorted. “Rather be in jeans, but this is better than the tux Nolan made me wear at his wedding.”

Oh boy, the thought of him in a tux was lust inducing.

Sam’s arm was firmly around her waist as he strolled with her. The feeling of being part of a couple again was wonderful.

Off to one side, an older couple stood and watched the dancing. When the white-haired man’s eyes met hers, he smiled and raised his voice. “Sam. Introduce us.”

Sam’s grin flashed. Without waiting for her to agree, he guided her forward, his big hand a warm spot at the hollow of her back. “Martha, this is Linda.” He glanced at Linda. “The ugly one is Gerald.”

The wrinkles that softened her face couldn’t hide Martha’s dimples. “It’s nice to finally meet you. We noticed you with Sam the other night.”

The other night?

“At the club,” Gerald offered, obviously noticing her confusion.

Them? “You’re… You do…”

Martha’s laugh sounded like…like Linda’s mother’s. “Yes, we do. We’ve been married for decades, and he’s been my Master for almost that long.”

“Decades?” Kinksters for most of their life?

Gerald gave a wheezing laugh. “We met when I wrote her a ticket for speeding, married soon after. Then we discovered the fun stuff about a decade after that.”

Linda’s mouth dropped open. “How in the world did you hear about BDSM? I mean, you were married. Did he take you to a club or something?”

“Oh my, no. Clubs like the Shadowlands were impossible to find, and heterosexuals weren’t welcome at most.” Wrinkles curved around the old woman’s smile. “A friend gave me The Story of O.” She tsk-tsked. “The hero showed appallingly insensitive behavior at times, but the story was fascinating. When I told Gerald, he made me read him my favorite parts.”

“She blushed with every page.” Gerald kissed his wife’s fingertips. “We experimented. Found a few people to answer questions.”

“We were delighted when Zachary opened his club. It’s pleasant knowing others in the lifestyle.” Martha patted Sam’s arm. “Do bring her to dinner sometime.” Her eyes danced. “I make a mean pot roast.”

“I’d love that.” Jumping right into this relationship, aren’t you, girl? She looked away and took a slow breath. She was old enough to know that loving someone didn’t mean you could live with him, after all. But everything in her wanted to go full speed ahead.

As Martha and Gerald responded to a hail from another older couple, Linda looked up at Sam. “I should be going now. I have some accounting to do.”

“Nope.” He pulled her toward the grassy dance area. “Happens I like waltzing. None of that other crap. And I got a craving to feel your beautiful tits against me. In public.” One eyebrow rose. “Especially with what you’re wearing. Got panties on under that?”

Her face warmed, and she glanced around to make sure no one was close. “Of course I do.”

“Since it’s a vanilla function, I can’t order you not to wear them.” He mercilessly pulled her against him, closer than he should for a waltz. He had a lead as strong as his attitude, and the realization gave her a quiver of appreciation.

He leaned down to murmur in her ear. “But if I find you in briefs at the Shadowlands, I’ll rip them off and whip whatever parts they covered.”

Despite the cool, high-sixties weather, heat blasted into Linda as if the weather had turned to a muggy July day. To hide her face, she pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

With a rumbled laugh, he said, “Goddamned pants weren’t tailored for a hard dick. We’re dancing till I’m presentable…or I’ll drag you into the gardens and take care of the problem in a different way.”

“Shhh. I can’t believe you talk like this.”

“Mmmmh. And I can see you’re upset.” As he spun them in a circle, he rubbed his chest against her breasts and, even through the clothing, could undoubtedly feel how her nipples had spiked.

God, I love you. But even as she pressed closer, she knew it wasn’t something he was ready to hear. Considering his past marriage, he might never be ready.

And considering how screwed up she still was? Going slowly made far too much sense.