To Command And Collar

Chapter Nineteen

Her plane would be leaving right about now. Raoul frowned at the design for a cable bridge on his computer and shut the program down. If he continued in this half-assed fashion, he’d end up redoing all the work. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

Time to get your life in order, Sandoval. Truly, he should be grateful for yesterday, for seeing how she reacted to him. His last doubt had been resolved, and he no longer had to argue with himself whether he wanted her to return. He rubbed his cheek, scowling at the scratchiness. Forgot to shave again. He needed to clean up before the party.

If she showed up and dropped to her knees and begged him to make her his slave, he wouldn’t agree. He closed his eyes and hauled in a painful breath. No. Over the past weeks, he’d realized he couldn’t take that step. Not now. Especially not with a woman who’d steal his heart, his life, and then decide she’d made a mistake.

He glanced around the house he’d built in an attempt to eradicate his wife from his memories.

Now Kimberly’s presence infused it instead. So many memories just from the few weeks they’d been together, and even though he’d known she’d leave.

How much worse would it be if they tried to build a future together? And then she’d tell him she didn’t want a master, didn’t want to serve him-or love him either. Would he have to build a new house again?

He tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a response to a gut shot. His love for Alicia bore no resemblance to the overwhelming way he felt about Kimberly. She was warmth and laughter and hopes he should never have harbored.

If he really thought she’d stay with him, accept him, that might be different. If he’d met her before her slavery, maybe…maybe he would have risked trying to teach her about her own needs.

She was brave, so very resilient, but that would ask too much.

He’d tried living a vanilla life. He couldn’t do it again. He’d unconsciously take the control from a little sub, and she would resent it. And leave him.

No. Maybe in a few years, he’d be willing to open himself up to the potential for pain. Kimberly would have married some nice normal man, probably have some children by then. The thought stabbed into his heart like a rapier.

He swallowed and forced a smile. He would wish her well.

Mouth tight, he sat back down at his computer and brought up the program. He’d work. Period.

An hour later, the sound of the doorbell ran through Raoul’s empty house. He glanced at the clock-only ten in the morning. The party for Kari and Dan didn’t start until one, and the caterers had already arrived and filled the fridge. Who would this be? Kimberly? The momentary hope lit his heart and died as quickly. Long gone.

He saved his design and headed for the front, actually a bit pleased at the interruption. Anything was better than the hollow feeling of his home. Pitiful, Sandoval. But he’d be happy to leave again.

He pulled open the door, assuming he’d be buying some Girl Scout cookies or a magazine subscription he didn’t need. The neighborhood children had him figured for a soft touch. But no child waited in the entry.

He stared for a second before his voice would work. “Mamá?”

“Mijo.” His mother had tears in her eyes. Lucia stood a pace behind, openly crying.

Had one of his nephews been hurt? Raoul took his mother’s frail hands. “Mamá, what has happened? What is wrong?”

“Raoul, I was so cruel. I didn’t know.” His mother wrapped her arms around him, weeping as if her heart were breaking.

“Please, please, don’t cry. Whatever is wrong, I will fix it.”

A second later, his sister attached herself like a burr to his side.

Carajo, this looked bad. “Has something happened to the boys?” More sobbing. He clamped a hand on his sister’s arm and gave it a shake. “Lucia, talk to me.”

His sister gave a shuddering laugh and wiped her face, then rubbed her mother’s back. “Shhh, Mamá, we’re scaring him.”

Raoul growled. “Lucia, you will tell me what is wrong. Now.”

They exchanged glances and smiled. Smiled?

“Dominant, yes, you are surely that,” his mother said. “You sound like your papá did.”

He winced and tried to step back. “I just-”

“’Mano, we found last night that your wife lied to us that day. The day you filed for divorce,” Lucia said. Her voice turned icy. “Alicia said you whipped her until she bled, that you hit her over and over. You forced her to be a slave and gave her to other men. She said she had to run to get away from you.”

“We didn’t believe her.” His mother wiped her face with the tiny handkerchief she always tucked under her belt. “But she showed us horrible bloody marks and bruises everywhere.”

Raoul stared at them. “But… I didn’t.”

“No, you didn’t.” Lucia’s eyes flashed black with anger. “But when Mamá asked you if you ever hit Alicia and if you ever had put a collar on her, you said yes.” She held her hand up to stop him from speaking. “You thought we were talking about how you lived. Raoul, we thought you were admitting to beating her and forcing her to be a slave.”

Someone had jammed a lead pipe into his chest. Pain with every pulse. “All these years, and you thought-”

“Mijo, I am sorry,” his mamá whispered. “I should have known you would never do such a thing. Only you said you had. But you didn’t.”

“Then-” Why didn’t his brain work? “How did you find out-”

Both women smiled at him, and Lucia said sweetly, “It’s not important, ’mano.”

The hell it wasn’t. His mouth tightened. He’d find out, damned if he wouldn’t. But for now… “Come in, Mamá. Lucia. I have coffee made.” As they walked inside, his heart swelled. His family was in his home.

“Raoul, this is beautiful,” his mother said as she walked through the great room, and his throat tightened when he saw his mother’s eyes. Love. Pride. How long since she’d looked at him that way? “We will not stay long, but…we couldn’t wait any longer.”

“I wouldn’t let her call. I wasn’t sure you’d talk to us,” Lucia admitted. “I’ve been horrible to you.”

He shook his head, remembering the marks on Alicia’s body. He pulled cups from the cupboard and set them on the island. “You thought I’d abused her. I would have reacted the same way.”

The time passed quickly as they sat in the kitchen, eating cookies and drinking coffee and catching up.

Too soon for his taste, Lucia stood, saying, “The boys will be home soon.” She gave him the mischievous smile he remembered from childhood and hadn’t seen in three long years. “But we expect to see you for Sunday dinner tomorrow. I have a feeling Mamá will fix all your favorites.”

His mother looked up at him, and his heart caught at the pleading look in her eyes. Begging forgiveness.

“Of course I’ll be there,” he said gently and kissed his mother’s cheek. He walked them to their car and helped his mother in.

“Raoul.” His sister waited beside the driver’s door. Pleased, he walked around to give her a final hug.

She returned it, then took an unhappy breath, one that made him tense. “One more unpleasantness; then we’ll put it behind us. This morning, I called Alicia’s sister. Penny’s been divorced for a while, ever since she found out Randolph was cheating on her.” Her mouth thinned. “She hadn’t known that the other woman was her own sister.”

“How did you hear that?” Raoul’s fingers clamped on her shoulders. Somehow they had the whole story-all of it. And to call Penny. “Lucia, that wasn’t-”

“Yes, it was necessary. I know you protect women, mi hermano. But, speaking as a woman, there are certain things I would want to know. A man’s cheating is…” She shrugged, having survived her own divorce. “But such a betrayal from a sister? There is no excuse under heaven. Alicia will find her family-and friends-to be less welcoming, I think.” Lucia patted his cheek. She’d worn the same smug smile after he’d used her Barbie dolls in his war games and she’d turned his prized comic books into cat litter in revenge. A firm believer in retribution was Lucia.

She added, “I felt much better after the call.” Another kiss on the cheek, and his sister slid into the car.

Women could be much crueler than men. Smiling a little, Raoul watched the sedan move down his long driveway. As he walked back into his house, his brows drew together. But he still wanted to know-how had they found out all the details of his divorce?

By one thirty that afternoon, the doorbell in Raoul’s house rang incessantly as people arrived for the barbecue. He shook his head, still amazed at how easily Z had manipulated him.

Everyone had wanted to celebrate Dan and Kari’s new baby. In many ways, it felt like the first for the Shadowlands Masters, even if some had children from previous marriages. Marcus and Gabi would have given the party, but Gabi wasn’t sure she’d be in town. Cullen’s home wasn’t large enough. Sam’s house was isolated in the country. Neither of the dommes could host the party. Z liked to entertain, but this time, he’d given an excuse and said Raoul had the space, a big patio and the beach, and was convenient to everyone.

Yes, the cabrón had set him up.

At least Jessica and her friends had taken over answering the door. Raoul concentrated on the barbecue, needing to stay occupied. Although his family’s visit had lightened his heart, the sight of so many couples in the lifestyle rubbed his nose in the fact that he had no one.

Mistress Anne walked out on the patio, her favorite submissive trailing behind her. She patted the pretty young man’s face. “Joey, look lively and help the others set up the tables.”

The redhead gave his mistress a meltingly sweet smile and moved stiffly toward the kitchen. Considering Anne’s sadistic streak, she’d probably shoved an overly large anal plug up the poor sub’s ass. Oddly enough, Jessica was moving in the same fashion. What had the little blonde done to get herself in trouble with Z this time?

The subs trotted back and forth, carrying platters, covering the long patio tables with food. A hum of conversation came from the guests sitting on the patio, splashing and squeals from those in the pool. Some had taken the chance to walk on the beach and enjoy the bright afternoon sun.

Sam walked over with a cold beer. Raoul took a small drink before putting the bottle down. The way he felt, the alcohol looked too appealing, and he didn’t drink for escape.

“I took her home,” Sam said, as if continuing a conversation.

“I know. Thank you for caring for her.” Hoping Sam wouldn’t continue, Raoul turned the chicken, the scent of the sizzling meat filling the air.

“She call you?”

“No.”

“Hell. She was-”

“I checked with Marcus yesterday to make sure she’d gotten home.” And heard about her flight time. He glanced at his watch. Her plane would have left a while back. Gone. That was good. It was good.

“You going to let her just go?” Sam asked, his gaze on the ocean. “After what she’s been through, you figure she won’t get over it?”

Raoul sighed and shut the grill top. After wiping his hands, he picked up his beer again. “At one time, I thought she might be willing to try. But it is better this way. She’s been hurt, and to be with me in…in the type of relationship I want is more than she could take.” More uncertainty than I’m willing to risk. When had he turned so cautious?

“Pretty much the conclusion I’d come to,” Sam muttered, and Raoul decided he wasn’t talking about Kimberly but about Linda. Sam had kept the redheaded slave safe, as Kimberly had asked, but apparently something else had happened.

Not that Sam would confide in Raoul. A man wouldn’t…not unless drunk. He winced. The last time he’d drunk that much was three years ago, after Alicia’s betrayal.

“You know, about Kim,” Sam started. “At the courthouse, she didn’t-” His voice was drowned out by the arrival of the Shadowlands trainees, all dressed in civilian clothing. Sam turned away at a hail from Cullen.

Raoul almost didn’t recognize the trainees: Uzuri in a pale yellow halter-top and shorts that accented her dark chocolate skin and with her kinky hair in dreadlocks. Dara’s blonde spiked hair was tinted purple. In a pink sundress, Maxie looked cheerful and sweet.

Pretty Sally brought up the rear, in short shorts and three tank tops layered in the odd female way. After exchanging greetings with the milling submissive group, she leaned over to Jessica and whispered something, receiving a smile and a big hug in return.

Both women turned to look at him…and saw him watching them. Color rose in Sally’s cheeks, and she shifted so her back was toward him.

Raoul took a sip of his beer, his interest aroused at the un-Sallylike behavior. No greeting. No hug. Was something wrong?

When Sally said something, Jessica glanced at him and met his eyes. She whispered to Sally, and the trainee’s spine grew stiffer.

Raoul’s suspicions started to rise. He hadn’t lived with slaves and submissives without learning a few things-like the ability to detect body language that sang of a guilty conscience.

None of the other doms received the darting looks. So whatever they’d done had something to do with him. And Kimberly? No. She’d been home with Gabi yesterday evening. As a trainee, Sally would have been at the Shadowlands last night. His eyes narrowed.

Sally was a bubbly, talkative little submissive who’d been part of the club for maybe five years. None of the other trainees had been around as long. Raoul rubbed his chin. Ever since his mamá and sister’s visit this morning, he’d wondered how they’d learned about Alicia’s betrayal. The only person he’d told had been Dan, and his friend never revealed a confidence.

But no one paid attention to the submissives in the club. They’d been trained to be invisible. Perhaps too invisible. Could she have overheard something when he’d been talking with Dan?

Sally peeked over her shoulder, saw him watching her, and jerked back around.

Hmm. Not looking away, he drank his beer.

“Sandoval, how are you doing?” Vance Buchanan walked out the door onto the patio, Kouros beside him. “Who’re you staring at?”

Raoul nodded toward the group of submissives. “The little brunette.”

The two FBI agents turned. Sally darted a look at Raoul and saw all three men looking at her. The color flared in her cheeks. She edged closer to Jessica.

“If she was my sub,” Kouros said, “I be wondering what she’d been up to.”

Buchanan grinned. “Yep, looks guilty as hell, but she’s the prettiest little perp I’ve ever seen.”

Raoul considered. If Sally had been the one to tell his family about Alicia, she’d done him a favor. Yet a submissive should know better than to divulge a dom’s private affairs. As a trainee in the Shadowlands, she fell under the authority of all the Masters-including him. He didn’t have the heart to punish her but was obligated to teach her discretion. “I think I know what’s up, and a bit of intimidation would be appropriate,” he said. “Want to interrogate her while I watch?”

Kouros leaned on his cane. “It would be a pleasure.” He waited until Sally turned, then gestured. Come here.

The color drained from her face, and Buchanan covered his laugh with a cough.

She crossed to them, all bounce gone, her gaze down. Across the patio, Z looked up, studied the situation for a second, grinned, and returned to talking with Olivia and Sam.

Jessica was watching, her brows drawn together. Definitely worried. Raoul leaned over to Kouros. “Better hurry, or Z’s sub will spoil the fun with either a confession or a tantrum.”

Kouros followed his gaze, and his lips quirked. “Got it.”

Sally stopped in front of the men and lifted her chin. “Did you need something, Sirs?”

Raoul smiled at her. “Trainee, these two doms want to speak with you.” His use of the word trainee put her on notice that she was expected to obey.

“Yes, Master Raoul.”

Buchanan moved behind her, blocking the sight of her from the other submissives.

Kouros stepped forward. Big men, both doms, intimidating in size and personality. “What we need from you is the truth,” Kouros said, his clipped New England accent striking the sub like sparks from a low burning fire.

Sally tried to back up and bumped into Buchanan. He grinned at Raoul over her head. “But-”

“We’ll start with something easy,” Kouros purred, setting his hand under her chin. “What is your name?”

“Sally, Sir.” She made an obvious effort to stand straight, but Raoul could see her melting under the force of Kouros’s personality. Experienced doms, years as FBI agents-the girl didn’t have a chance.

“Very nice, Sally. You can tell the truth, see?” His voice turned silky with approval. His free hand stroked her hair back behind her ear, both a caress-and exposing her face more.

She stared up at him like a cornered mouse, an unusual change in the spirited sub.

Buchanan stroked her bare arms, adding to the sense of reward.

“Now tell me what you did to Master Raoul,” Kouros demanded, his voice as cold as a New England winter.

She moaned, her hands rubbing on her hips in a self-comforting motion. She tried to look at Raoul, but Kouros shifted, keeping her gaze on his face.

Raoul smothered a smile, making mental notes. He rather liked interrogation scenes, and this one was pretty lightweight…except for Sally’s obvious guilt and the agent’s undeniable experience with breaking down hardened criminals.

“N-nothing.” She pulled in a breath, lifted her chin. “I haven’t even seen him for a long time.”

“Oh, you definitely did something, little one,” Kouros said softly. “I don’t want to get angry with you, sweetheart.” He moved closer until she could probably feel his body heat, until she had to tilt her head back to stare up at him. “There are other things Vance and I would rather do…to you.”

Her eyes got bigger, and the combination of anxiety and sudden arousal was a fine sight.

“What are you doing?” Jessica stepped around Buchanan. She actually shoved Kouros back a step and pulled Sally out from between the two agents. “Leave her alone!”

As Buchanan and Kouros moved back, Sally recovered her spirit. Her spine straightened, although she quickly edged out of grabbing distance.

“Ah well.” Ignoring glares that should have fried his ass, Buchanan grinned at Raoul. “How about drinks for two hard-working agents?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Raoul looked for the other agent.

Using his cane to block Jessica, Kouros cornered Sally again. When his eyes met hers, she froze. “We’ll continue this at another time, pet,” he murmured. “And I assure you, you will tell us everything we want to know.” He ran a finger down her flushed cheek and smiled.

As the Fed turned away, Raoul saw Sally shiver. Then her hands fisted. “Not until hell freezes over,” she muttered, just loudly enough to hear.

As Jessica slung an arm around her waist and escorted her friend back to the safety of the submissive group, Kouros joined Buchanan.

Raoul grinned at him. He had a feeling Sally would probably disappear into the bathroom the next time she spotted the agents. “Let me get you a beer, Kouros.”

After Raoul had taken care of his guests and introduced them to a couple of the doms they hadn’t met, he returned to check the barbecue. He loaded up a platter with chicken and handed it to Joey to put on the table.

“Hey, Raoul,” Gabi called from the back door. Her hand was in her dom’s in the way they had of walking with fingers laced, and Raoul firmly stomped on his envy. As she and Marcus crossed the patio, Raoul frowned at how stiffly she moved. Had she been spanked? No, it was the more gingerly movement of a submissive unaccustomed to walking around with an anal plug. Both her and Jessica? He’d think they’d been up to something together, but Marcus had said they weren’t going to the Shadowlands last night.

Raoul shook his head in confusion and kissed Gabi’s cheek. After dutifully admiring her current arm tattoos of SpongeBob-the same yellow as her halter top-he slapped Marcus’s arm. “Welcome, my friends. There is beer in the dark coolers and wine in the light cooler.”

“You look like hell,” Marcus said, his accent making the word sound like hey-all.

“Geez, Marcus, were you raised in a barn?” Gabi frowned, then looked over her dom’s shoulder and grinned, bouncing once on her toes.

Raoul followed her gaze, and his muscles went rigid. Kimberly?

Dios, she was a vision in the afternoon sunlight, wearing a pretty strapless sundress, the blue the color of her eyes. Her black hair shone like a raven’s wing, rippling over her tanned shoulders. He walked forward a few steps, then had second thoughts. Not your woman, Sandoval. Don’t want a woman. Be polite, then keep your distance.

Uncertainty crossed her face as she stared at him, and his hand went out before he knew, offering anything she needed from him. If she ran from him again, he wouldn’t be able to bear it. His mouth tightened. No. He did not want to walk this path.

Before he could withdraw his gesture, she crossed the last few steps and set her small hand into his. Unable to help himself, he drank in the sight of her, feeling as if the empty places in his heart were filling. Her hand in his trembled slightly, and he told himself to release her, but his fingers wouldn’t open.

“Kimberly.” His voice came out ragged. But at least she wasn’t throwing up at the sight of him, although it might be easier on him if she did. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Her gaze moved over his face, and she seemed as hungry for him as he was for her. “Yesterday. Oh…right. The courthouse,” she said. “God, I’m sorry, M-Raoul. Sam said you thought you’d made me sick, but that wasn’t it. I saw the Overseer. He came out of the courtroom right behind you, and when I heard his voice…” Her color faded.

She hadn’t been reacting to me. The blast of relief was like having his chest cracked open. His mouth tightened. He didn’t want to feel like this.

“Well.” He needed to stop this now, not lead her on. Not encourage her. He pulled his hand back. “It’s good to see you again. You’re looking well.”

Kim’s hand felt empty, as if yearning to take his again. She stared up at him. He looked tired, but oh, his face was even more darkly tanned, his black hair shaggy, brushing the collar of his blue short-sleeved shirt. The touch of his hand-just the damned touch-had sent a thrill through her.

For a moment, his eyes had started to smolder, but now he looked remote. Cold. Like he’d been at the auction. But that expression had been for the slavers-never for her. Did he no longer…?

She swallowed. “I-”

“They’re here!” Jessica yelled. People turned to look.

Dan walked out and held the door for Kari, who held a tiny bundle in her arms. The baby. “Oh, look how little,” Kim whispered.

Master R tilted his head. “You haven’t seen the child yet, have you?”

“But…” I want to stay with you.

“Go see the baby, Kimberly.”

An order. A definite go away. A frozen ball took up residence in the pit of her stomach.

She shouldn’t have come. Why had she been so silly, building a castle of dreams made of sand? It only took a wave to wash it away.

She made her feet cross the patio and joined the women surrounding Dan, Kari, and the baby. Beth frowned, cast a quick look at Master R, and put an arm around Kim’s waist. Andrea stepped to her other side, her brows pulling together.

Kari smiled a welcome and glanced in Master R’s direction. “It’s about time you came back, Kim. He’s been a bear.”

“No kidding,” Dan muttered.

Why did hearing that make her feel better? Not that it changed anything. Accept it, Kim. He’s made the decision for you. And she needed to concentrate on her friends now. Not spoil Kari’s moment with unhappiness. She forced a smile “Let’s see this new baby.”

Kari flipped back the light blanket to reveal the baby’s face and grinned at the “Awwws” and “Oooos.” “Meet Zane.” Black hair, blue eyes like Dan’s, a little chin and nose like Kari’s.

Grumbling, Dan retreated from the crowd of women, casting a glance over his shoulder as if checking to be sure his two charges were safe.

Unable to resist, Kim reached out. Look at the tiny hand. His fingers closed around her thumb. “He’s precious, Kari.”

Kari grinned. “He really is.” The tenderness in her eyes as she stared at her baby, then across to Dan, matched the way Dan’s face softened, showing his pride and…love.

Kim swallowed, her throat clogging with envy, then said, “I missed the baby shower, but Gabi told me this is a baby celebration, so I got you a present this morning. Got him a present, I mean.” She dug into the canvas bag she had over her shoulder and handed over the gaily wrapped package.

Jessica took Zane as Kari opened the gift, then laughed and held up the blue onesie to show the writing on the front: I give the orders around here, then the back: Master Zane. Kari gurgled a laugh. “Oh, it’s true. He’s totally in charge. When Zane cries, even the big dom of the house comes running.” She touched the baby’s hair. “And I love it. It’s just so…” Kari smiled down at her son.

Satisfying, Kim filled in. Up at all hours of the night, tending to every need. And Kari was happy.

Was that what a master got back from a relationship?

Kim shook her head. She’d never tended much except boats-then again, even boats need care. Patching and cleaning, oiling and barnacle scraping, doing all the tedious things that kept it running well. She never begrudged the chores, because a sturdy vessel would hold up in a storm, would bring you back to shore, would never let you down. She looked over at Master R. He was her boat.

Dan worked his way to Kari and kissed her. “I set up the carrier and monitor in the little living room for when you’re ready to feed him and put him down for his nap.” Grinning, he took the baby. “My turn to show him off before he decides he’s starving.” He snuggled his son against him and headed toward the doms.

Andrea grinned. “He’s so proud, it’s cute.”

Kari snickered. “Don’t be a smarty. Can you imagine how your Cullen would act?”

“Pretty much like that. Wouldn’t they all?” Andrea’s smile softened as Cullen touched Zane’s cheek, pleasure filling his face. “He wants children, so we’ll be locking up the dungeon furniture sooner or later.”

“Hiding the equipment?” Beth stared at her scar-faced dom and the gentle way he’d taken the baby’s fingers as if marveling at how small next to his big hand. Beth’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what Nolan was drawing last night-dungeon furniture that converts into bedroom furniture.”

“If he sells it, he’ll get rich. Richer.” Jessica grinned. “Dan and Kari have started a trend. Look at those so-called hard-asses.”

Kim sighed. The doms’ faces turned gentle when they looked at the baby. Then each would gaze over at his submissive as if imagining her with his child. “I bet some birth control pills are going to get dumped in the next few months.”

“Dios, after seeing the baby, I might not protest too much,” Andrea muttered. “Maybe I’ll let Cullen marry me after all.”

“Respectability sucks.” Jessica pouted. “Z said no babies until we get married, and Mom’s insisting on a church wedding. You know how long those take to plan?”

“I know the feeling,” Beth grumbled. “I still can’t believe mine bribed Nolan to delay our wedding. With wine, no less. Men are so easy.”

Kari laughed. “I can’t believe you took less than two weeks for a honeymoon.”

Beth colored. “It wasn’t as if I got to see much of anything besides the bed anyway.”

Smiling, Kim watched as Dan and his son got to Sam. Sam already had grown children, didn’t he? He smiled at the baby and said something to Dan that made him laugh.

Then Master R reached out, and Dan actually put the baby in his arms. He held the little bundle easily, and a smile flashed in his dark face as tiny fists appeared out of the blanket. He rubbed his knuckles over the baby’s cheek, and Kim remembered how he’d do that with her when he was especially pleased or tender.

As he passed the baby to Dan, he smiled, and maybe only Kim saw the touch of envy. Her heart wrenched when, as the other men had done, his gaze came to rest on her, the heat, the sheer desire so potent that her feet started across the patio. Just because he’d shown her his need.

But he shook his head and turned away, checking the food he was cooking on the giant barbecue.

She halted. He doesn’t want me. Or he doesn’t want to. She wanted to give him everything. Starting with herself. But he didn’t feel the same. She stood in the center of the patio. Needing to retreat. Needing to go forward. Still as torn as she’d been since the night he bought her.

Sam had been talking with Cullen, but he paused. He stared at her for a minute, his face expressionless, then leaned over and spoke to Master R.

Master R’s muscles contracted beneath his thin cotton shirt before he slowly turned. With an unreadable expression, he walked over and stood beside her, pretending to watch Kari. “He’s a pretty baby, no?” He didn’t touch her. Didn’t smile.

“Yes.” She stared at her feet. He’d only said he loved her that one time. Dammit, she shouldn’t have come. This was unbearable. She glanced up and saw the smoldering need in his gaze, like a surge of electricity to her own desire. And then he buried it again.

“Damn you,” she whispered.

He frowned. “Chiquita, what is wrong?” He touched her, the graze of his knuckles, the tenderness exactly as with the baby. This man would never take his loved ones for granted; she knew that right down to the bottom of her heart. He’d cherish and protect, care for with everything in him.

He doesn’t want me though. But she wanted him. And she was tired of trying to make a decision. Let him decide for both of us-hey, that’s what he wants, right? To be in charge?

And suddenly, it was so easy after all. Turning her head, she kissed his fingers and saw him freeze. She let her bag drop to the pavement and slipped down to her knees.

Over the pounding of her heart, she heard a squeak. Jessica.

She pulled her bag closer. It held something she’d cried over, thrown across the room, kissed, hated and cursed, and then cuddled at night. The concrete was hot against her legs. The scent of the ocean hung in the air as she took out the collar he’d given her, the one she’d found on the stairs the night of the auction. The leather was smooth, and she traced her fingers over the words Master Raoul’s gatita.

Am I still?

She laid it over her palms, trying to bow her head but failing. She needed to see his face or she might die. She raised it up. “May I wear your collar, Master?” she asked and heard no sound on the patio at all except the surging of the ocean and the hammering of her heart.

His silence terrified her. For a moment, his eyes kindled as if a fire had lit behind them, and his breath ran ragged. Then his face grew remote… Her Master R had stepped behind his walls. His voice was gentle but firm. “No. I’m sorry, Kimberly. I cannot be your master.”

Like a knife wound, his words sliced through her, cutting open her flesh, driving ruthlessly into her chest. The pain arrived a second later. Her protest escaped before she could think. “But… You wanted this. Wanted me.”

He rubbed his palm over his mouth, his eyes unhappy. “I did,” he said so softly she barely heard him. His voice strengthened. “But it cannot work between us. You don’t want a master. You never did and even less now, after what you’ve been through.”

“I do.”

“Can you be that sure, cariño?” he asked so softly.

She started to say yes, then caught his intent look. “No,” she said honestly and blinked back the tears. “But I’ll regret it all my life if we don’t try. I want to try.” She swallowed. “Master, please.”

He just looked at her, and his gaze filled with pain. “I…can’t. No.”

She bowed her head, trying not to give in to tears. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry, no matter what happened.

Master R hadn’t moved. It was up to her to get out of here. Out of his way. Out of his party and his life. Her chest had hollowed out, an aching hole where her heart had been. This was far worse than leaving him before. At least then, she’d had hope.

She put the collar back in her bag, touching it like a tiny being that had died. Her legs didn’t cooperate when she tried to stand.

A hand appeared in front of her face. Not Master R’s thick-boned, powerful hand. This was lean, fingernails groomed, a dark watch on the wrist. She wrapped her fingers around his palm, and the man pulled her to her feet with a graceful strength.

Master Z. When he tucked her into his side, she leaned against him. “Don’t quit yet, little one,” he whispered in her ear.

“Can you see she gets home, Z?” Master R asked. The smoothness and lilt had fled his voice, adding to her sorrow.

“No, I don’t think so, Raoul.”

She started to say she’d get herself home, but Z’s arm around her squeezed the air from her lungs.

Master R’s face tightened, anger shadowing his eyes. “Don’t interfere in what you don’t understand, my friend,” he said, a threat hanging in the air.

“I think I understand quite well,” Z said mildly. “Your marriage left scars. And you don’t want to be hurt again, but this little one keeps doing it. She’s finally made up her mind, but you can’t be sure and aren’t about to risk it again. Unfortunately, she can’t give you a guarantee, especially after everything she’s been through. Do I have it about right?”

She’d hurt him when she’d left? Oh God, she really had. She’d been so stupidly focused on herself, thinking he was self-sufficient. She hadn’t looked at what she was doing to him. “I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered, wincing at the misery flickering across his face.

“This is not the place to discuss this,” Master R said tightly. “Take her ho-”

Z smiled faintly. “This is exactly the place. Nothing in life is guaranteed, Raoul.”

“I know that.” Master R’s gaze dropped to her face, unyielding. Unhappy. “Kimberly, I tried living in a relationship without…being who I am. I can’t do that again. And you cannot submit to a master, not after what you’ve been through.”

“But I did. I can.” Yet she wasn’t totally sure herself. This wouldn’t be a limited few days, and she’d already capsized on him once. Why should he trust her? How could he trust her? “Is there,” she said slowly, “a test? A shakedown cruise? Something to prove to us both that it can work?”

She saw his spark of hope flare, then die. He smiled ruefully. “There’s no-”

“Traditionally,” Z said casually, “a submissive is whipped when receiving her collar as a way of showing her submission, her trust in her master.”

Whipped? Her mind went blank, and she tried to pull away from Z.

The iron bar of his arm didn’t release. “You’ve been whipped in front of strangers, little one. Would you like to enjoy one in front of friends-given by your master?”

Whip. A shiver ran through her, and Master R growled, his hand fisting. “Damn you. She can’t-”

So many she can’ts coming from him. I can do anything if I want it enough. Maybe she did want it. Just as Master R had replaced her horrible nightmares of other men by making love to her, now she could replace memories of cruelty with his care. And perhaps create something for them both to fall back on. She’d never trusted him more or felt so close to him as after the fireplay scene. If he wanted her to do this, then she knew she could…and it might help her doubts as well. “Yes, please, Master R,” she whispered. “Yes.”

Silence. “No.”

Catch-22. If she accepted his mastery, then he had the right to say no, but if he said no, then she had no master. She bent her head. “I want the tradition if it pleases Master. I will take any pain you want to give me, take anything you do. We both need an answer.”

Silence. Then a heavy sigh. “This master is going to kill Z.”

Z chuckled. His arm dropped from her, and he simply walked away.

Master R laid his hand against Kim’s face. He studied her, seeing her in the way no one else had ever done. “You would face your fears-bear pain for me-just for a chance to be together?”

She nodded.

He looked away, brows drawn. Thinking.

Hope started to tap-dance over her heart. She held so, so still, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts.

“Yes.” His expression changed. His shoulders straightened. His mouth firmed. Everything about him coalesced into the master she loved. “Then, gatita, it would please me to test your submission in front of our friends.”

How had this happened? Raoul stared down at Kimberly, trying to batter down the hope rising inside him. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t truly submit.

And, if she could, what would it prove? Really?

But if she could face her worst fears for him, how could he not do as much for her?

If she could submit to him, here, in fear and in public, he’d know that she’d work as hard as he would to make a D/s relationship succeed.

A shiver ran through her, and he pulled her into his arms, giving her comfort. Whether she succeeded or not, he would withhold nothing. She needed to trust him, to want to please him. After so long apart, to do this now was foolish-yet neither of them could tolerate waiting. He knew that as well.

He rested his cheek on the top of her head, inhaling her light fragrance. He’d forgotten- tried to forget-how she fit against him, how her strong arms would hold him as tightly as he held her.

After a minute, Raoul lifted his head and motioned for Cullen. “You know where the dungeon is. Can you get the box labeled patio and set it up at the archway? Bring wrist and ankle cuffs as well.”

“Got it, buddy.” Cullen grinned at Kimberly and tugged her hair. “Welcome home, pet. Why didn’t you come over and say hi last night?”

She gave him a shrug, looking away, her body stiff.

Raoul frowned. She wasn’t usually rude. She relaxed when Cullen moved away.

Last night. Cullen would have been playing bartender at the Shadowlands all evening. “Come over and say hi.”

Obviously, Kim had been at the club, probably with Gabi. Maybe conversing with guilty little Sally. Kim had met his family in the hospital; he’d heard them talking in the hall. It didn’t take a calculus formula to figure out the answer. But this was not the time to deal with family issues. Instead… He rubbed his cheek on her silky hair and asked, “Did you get the furry present I sent you?”

Her laugh-how long had it been since he’d heard her soft laugh. “My Ari. He’s wonderful and…”

Contently, Raoul held her, ignoring the conversations around them, and listened to her telling of returning to work, of the big dog, of her life. As Cullen and Nolan set up chains from the bolts in the patio cover beams, he answered her questions about Costa Rica.

She’d missed him and tried to call him. The knowledge was far too pleasing. “I missed you, sumisita,” he admitted in return. She was being gut-wrenchingly honest and more courageous than he was. “My home is empty without you, and I couldn’t bear the silence.”

Her arms tightened around him, and he bent down and took her lips. Soft and welcoming as she molded against him, keeping nothing of herself in return. Her body was fragrant and even lusher than when she’d left. He wanted to explore, to fill his palms with her breasts.

When he lifted his head, she made a tiny sound of protest. One a man should not make, but a man might feel. After a slow breath, he noticed Cullen had set cuffs on the table nearby.

Time to start. One by one, he slowly fastened the cuffs on his sumisa, cherishing the way she held out an ankle, her wrist, offering herself. Her pleasure was obvious in her open stance and her curving lips. She wanted his cuffs.

He ran his finger around the insides to ensure they weren’t too tight, then rose and checked the setup at the edge of his patio. Chains dangled from rings he’d installed in the support beam. Two more chains lay at the base of the four-by-four posts. Ready.

Was Kimberly? Her breathing had sped up, and she was biting her lip. But she nodded firmly. “I’m ready, Master.”

He’d always known she’d break his heart. His hand slipped down under the hem of her sundress and between her legs. Small panties, already damp. Her muscles were tensed with anxiety, but her pussy showed her arousal. Maybe, maybe she could do this. His hopes flared. “Remove your clothing.”

Her breath hitched, and a flush grew in her cheeks. But she pulled the sundress over her head in one smooth move. The sight of her breasts-yes, fuller than before-sent a bolt of lust through him.

She pushed down her tiny panties-the ruffles matched the ones on the dress, he noticed appreciatively.

“Are you still ready?”

“Yes, Master.” Her lips formed around the word as if she liked the taste of it in her mouth, and he was grateful she hadn’t hated it like she had the word slave-he enjoyed very much the sound of his title when she said it.

Mine. His heart uttered the word again and again. Submitting to him. Nothing could give a dom more of a rush in a scene. In life? Nothing filled a dom’s heart so fully.

Unable to resist, he pulled her against him, curved his fingers around her nape, and plundered her sweet lips. He ran his hand over her ass, massaging the roundness, still cool, but soon to be glowing with heat.

He held her eyes, rejoicing to see them so clear and free of fear. “I love you, gatita.”

Her heart melted right down into a puddle. Never, ever would she tire of hearing that. “I love you, Master.”

When she finally looked away from him, she saw the tables and chairs on the patio had been moved to form a semicircle, leaving a large open area. For a whip.

“Master Raoul.” Z stood a few feet away. His dark gray eyes held hers as he said, “Tell your submissive what you wish to use so she might bring you the proper tools.”

Tools? Things he’d use on her. To hurt her… She wrenched her gaze away and realized people had congregated around the patio. Watching. Like at an exhibit or a slavers’ stage. Her horrified gaze fell on Gabi.

Gabi jerked her chin up and then deliberately made a fist, arcing it in the tugboat hand signal for full speed ahead.

Kim blinked. Well.

Next to her hard-faced dom, Beth had her hands clasped together, and her lips moved, You can do it.

Andrea gave her a firm nod of encouragement.

Kari’s eyes had tears in them, but she waggled a baby monitor emphatically and mouthed, “Yes. Do it.”

Jessica was alternating glaring at Z and nodding vigorously at Kim.

Not an exhibit. I have my own set of cheerleaders.

“I think you agreed on whips?” Z asked, as if deliberately rubbing her fears raw.

A shudder ran through her, but she forced steel into her spine. I fought the Overseer and Greville and won. Can I be less brave in going after my dreams?

Master R’s face held only fury as he stared at Z, but then he sighed and smiled. “Remind me to hurt Z after this.”

Master R is on my side. He always is. But she could…almost…understand the pressure Z was putting on her. This was her opportunity to prove herself to them both, and Master Z would make it a proper test. She raised her chin. “Can Master describe his wishes?”

His hand touched her cheek gently, his gaze intensifying, as if he assessed her determination, and his lips curved with approval. “My gatita makes me proud.”

God, everything in her melted, and she felt as if she’d drown in his eyes.

Master R thought a minute. “I want you to bring me the flogger with a faint yellow stripe on the handle, a crop-one with soft leather-and the bullwhip on the leftmost side. You will do this to please me, Kimberly.”

The bullwhip. Her mouth was too dry, so she gave him a jerky nod and walked off the patio. Her legs didn’t seem to belong to her, but they were moving, and that was all she could ask.

The dungeon was cool. Quiet. And, oddly, held no fears, just memories of Master R: Leaning against a wall and counting with his fingers as she walked around the room. Massaging her on the bondage table. “You’re not going to fall into pieces if I touch your breasts.”

He’d led her out of panic each time-her wish to please him would work that magic again. It must.

The crop was easy and she picked one with the softest leather. The flogger he’d actually teased her with once and let her play with. The bullwhip…

She got near and couldn’t touch it. Had to circle to get close. Another circle. Did he even know how to use a whip? What if he-No, this was Master R. If he used something, he’d be superb. She’d never seen him practice though.

That was scary. During the next detour, she frowned at the empty space on one side of the room. She’d never wondered why it was there. A newspaper was clamped chest-high on the wall, thin strips of it dangling like streamers. She shivered. Maybe he did practice.

Another circle.

Enough stalling. I will do this. She brought up in her memory the approval on Master R’s face. “You will do this to please me.” The need to see that approval again grew, slowly outweighing her fear.

Her fingers closed on the whip, and she whispered a vow to herself. “I’m going to learn to use this damned thing. Rip up some newspapers myself. See if I don’t.” Her hand tightened on the leather.

As she stepped out onto the patio in the bright sun, she saw Master R in the middle. He’d taken his shirt off to get ready for the scene, obviously never doubting her courage. The sight of the contoured muscles on his chest and arms made her stop. So powerful. She smiled, remembering when she’d said that to him. He’d laughed and picked her up so, so easily, murmuring into her hair, “The better to hold you with.”

A thin pink ridge ran across his left ribs where Greville’s knife had cut, an atrocity on his beautiful, tan skin, and anger flared in her. Then she huffed a laugh, glancing down at her own scar. They were definitely a matched set now.

The people around the patio went completely silent as she crossed to him. She knelt at his feet. “I brought your tools as you asked, Master.”

“You did very, very well.” He took everything from her, setting it all on the ground off to one side. His stride was as she’d remembered in her dreams-unhurried, steady, and solid.

With an easy yank, he lifted her to her feet, then rested his hands on her shoulders, massaging lightly. “You will take everything I give you today,” he said, holding her gaze. His eyes were filled with a dark promise of pain and pleasure.

A thrill of anticipation went through her. He’d never pushed her in the dungeon, but now, now his eyes promised he would today. Oh God. “I will, Master.” It was a vow for both of them. I will.

He guided her under the chains, facing her toward the ocean and away from the audience. After restraining her arms over her head, he secured her legs apart, opening them widely, before tightening the chains to her arms. He circled her slowly, looking her over, his gaze like a caress on her bare skin. He stopped in front of her, cupping her chin in his palm. “I’ve dreamed of seeing you here, like this,” he said, his voice a little rough. “Open to me, wanting what I can give you.”

“I want that,” she whispered, every cell in her needing to please him. And she’d take whatever he asked so he’d be proud, would know how much she loved him. The need to give, to accept, filled her.

He kissed her, his tongue taking her, his lips demanding but so, so sweet. When he lifted his head, her breath came thick and hot. Obviously someone had turned the humidity up on the patio.

His hand glided over her shoulder, then her back, as he walked around her, and then lower: her bottom, her legs…

When he stroked up her inner thighs, she jerked.

“Be still, gatita.” Warm hands. Firm touch.

Just like her dreams. She realized her pussy was wet with her arousal.

“Very nice, Kimberly. I like this.” His fingers slid through her folds, making her shiver. The murmur of conversation came to her, then disappeared under the rush of heat as his fingers pressed her labia open and ran over her clit. She bit her lip as electricity sizzled through her.

He teased her clit and then eased a finger inside her and out.

Legs wide apart, she was exposed to anything he wanted to do, and…it was the most erotic thing she’d ever felt in her life, knowing she’d willingly given him the power.

He rose to his feet.

Oh no. Her thoughts stuttered at the memory of the tools. “Wait.”

The smack on her ass stung. “Who?”

“Master R. Master, what are you going to do?”

“Whatever I want to, sumisita mía.” His voice wasn’t mean, just that firmness that sent quivers into her stomach and more wetness between her legs.

He chuckled and pressed his body against hers from behind, his erection pushing on her buttocks, his muscular chest heating her back, his arms surrounding her. “Pretty gatita, are you ready?” His fingers tweaked her nipples, and his touch sent streaks of pain straight down to her clit.

He gathered her hair and moved it forward over her shoulder. Baring her back. She tensed, but he only ran his hands up and down, waking her skin, making her breasts sway.

He slapped her bottom lightly, a tiny sting, then harder, and more, until she wanted to move away from the burning. She arched away-uselessly.

“Sí, I like knowing you have to stay put to take what I give you,” he murmured and walked around to face her, his hand always on her, stroking from her back to her shoulder. Her bottom burned, and her skin was so sensitive that even the touch of the sea breeze felt like an icy kiss.

His lips brushed hers. Then he captured her mouth with hungry urgency. “I’ve missed kissing you. So…you will tell me if the pain becomes too much, no? What is your safe word?”

“Cramp.”

“Very good.” His grin flashed at her. “Which will make you scream first, gatita-the sting of the lash or the fury of your orgasm?”

Oh boy, how could he terrify her and turn her on at the same time? Sensuality darkened his face as he regarded her, not hiding the pleasure he got from playing with her. Not hiding his intention to exercise his power as her master.

I can’t believe I’m here. Doing this…wanting this. Yet the more she surrendered, the more she felt a part of him.

He knew. He touched her cheek, his gaze softening.

She stared at him helplessly, bound with more than physical restraints.

The flogger he used next didn’t hurt. Like a million elves drumming on her skin, the strands of the flogger moved from her back to her front.

She stared at him, almost mesmerized. So big, shoulders broad, his chest and arm muscles rippled with each movement. His control was absolute, his focus totally on her and the flogger as if it connected them like an umbilical cord.

He lightened the strokes over her stomach and thighs, even lighter over her breasts, making them swell and throb. The very lightest flick between her legs sent her up onto her toes with surprise, followed by a hot rush of pleasure.

He saw, and a smile softened his stern features. As he circled her, her skin grew more sensitive, started to burn. And somehow her pussy throbbed as if it had swollen too much.

A pause. His hands stroked her body, soothing the ache. He moved in front of her and studied her for a silent moment. Then the corners of his eyes crinkled. “You are very beautiful, all aroused and ready for the bite of the lash.” His palms covered her breasts, and he watched her intently as he pinched her nipples lightly, then harder, rolling the peaks between his fingers.

She closed her eyes as pleasure washed through her.

“Look at me.”

She forced her eyes open, stiffening as his hand moved to her pussy, sliding through her folds. The streak of sharp pleasure was almost painful, unexpected, and she made a protesting sound.

“Shhh, gatita. You want this-there is no shame in it, in being a woman. In letting your master rouse your body.” He smiled, fingers pushing intimately inside her, then out and over her clit. Over and in, repeating until her hips pressed forward into each movement.

Oh God, I need more. She hadn’t dreamed she could get so hot, so needy.

Then he smiled. “Very good. You’re ready.” His gaze was level, direct, utterly in control and confident.

And she nodded. She could handle pain if he was in charge.

He kissed her slowly and then ravenously. “Sumisita mía,” he said, tipping her chin up. “After this, I intend to take you.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Hard.”

Her vagina clenched. As her gaze dropped to his groin, delight rose inside her. “As Master wishes.”

“Yes, my gatita’s submission-and body-makes me needy.” He touched his nose to hers, took in her breath. “I’ve missed taking you every morning before breakfast.”

She closed her eyes and breathed, “Me too.” Waking alone, wanting him so much she’d slept with an extra pillow to have something to hold.

He pressed another kiss to her lips, then walked away. A second later, she heard the crack of a whip.

Panic rolled over her, drowning her in memories. Slicing pain after pain, screaming. She pulled frantically at the chains, her breathing a tropical storm turning into a hurricane.

“Kimberly.” His voice cut through the winds. “You will take this for me.”

Silence grew around her, the fears held at bay with just his voice…and her need to please him. Master R, not Greville. Master R would stop if she needed him to…and so she could go on. “Yes, Master. I will.”

The first touch of the whip was a flicker: here, there, up, and down. A little sting, the rhythm almost soothing. A brush over her skin like a rough kiss. More. She’d never watched whipping scenes. Who knew it could be so…sensuous?

After a while, he walked forward to rub her back. Played with her breasts, sending new sparks of arousal flickering through her body. His erection pressed into her from behind, and he ground it against her bottom, making her feel the lingering burn from her spanking. His fist closed in her hair, tugging her head to the side. His voice was low and ruthless, sending a thrill through her. “Now, I’m going to push you, Kimberly. And you will take it-for me.”

He obviously felt her shiver; his laugh was guttural. Terrifying. Hot. He moved away, but she could hear him. “That’s my good girl.”

A crack, a tiny whoosh, then the sting, pain blooming beneath her skin. She gasped, a little shocked. That hurt. He kept on, over and over, like the bite of flame from the fireplay, the whip was a flash of pain that almost seemed to light her up inside.

Down her ass, a few touches on her thighs that zapped straight to her clit until-oh, God, she was shaking with the need to come.

The intensity increased. More. Sharper. She sucked in her breath to keep from yelling. He eased off to the sweet brushing strokes. Harder again. Stinging, shocking, burning…pain.

Nothing moved, but she fell backward, tumbling into the ocean, surrounded by softness. Her eyes half-focused on the tide rolling in on the white shore, and she realized his strokes were timed to the ocean waves. The pain hit and rolled over her, flowing back out before the next one. So wonderful yet so arousing. The whip strokes slowly moved down her ass, her thighs, and back up.

His body was against hers again, warm, holding her.

“Eyes on me,” he said, turning her head. Brown gaze, calm and wonderful.

She smiled at him and savored his grin.

“Look at you. Even under a whip, you trusted me enough to hit subspace,” he murmured, kissing her until the ground disappeared from under her. “I’m very proud of you, gatita.” He pulled back. “Tell me your safe word.”

“Cramp. Only I don’t need it,” she confided.

His eyes crinkled. “I’m going to give you five more, and they will hurt.”

A worry started to rise in her. She heard the sharp crack behind her, but nothing hit.

“Take a breath, gatita.” Firm. Her master.

An orgasm seemed to be floating inside, waiting, as she inhaled.

“Let it out.”

She breathed out and heard a crack and razor-sharp pain shot across her right buttock. She sucked in a breath, feeling her body jerk, and as she exhaled, another line of fire hit. Yet it was Master R doing it, expecting her to handle it, making her take it, and that sent her even deeper. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Another razor cut of pain jolted her to her core and another- white-hot pain-and another.

Through the surging of the blood in her head, she heard his footsteps. His arms surrounded her, pulled her into his warmth. “I’m so proud of you. You have pleased me very much,” he murmured into her hair.

She blinked at him. “I will take more if you need me to, Master.”

He frowned. “Do you want more?”

“No. But if you-”

“No, gatita. You’re not a masochist.” He kissed her cheek. “For which I am very happy. You have had enough.”

She sighed, still half in the clouds, and when he kissed her long and slow, her whole body reminded her of what she wanted. “Can we go somewhere and…?”

His head lifted, brown eyes keen. Hot.

“And make love,” she finished. It would be love. She knew that.

His grin flashed. “Are you saying, ‘Just fuck me already?’”

She choked, but the throbbing of her lower half wouldn’t be denied. “Yes, Master. If Master pleases.”

“Oh, that will please Master,” he said, gripping her hair. “But we aren’t going inside, Kimberly.”

Out here? Her eyes rounded.

Laughing softly, he unsnapped the chains holding her legs apart and then reached up to the panic snaps above. Two clicks, and she was free. She groaned as she lowered her arms, her shoulders aching. Her knees wobbling.

He picked her up, snuggling her against his bare chest. His clean, masculine scent surrounded her, musky from the exercise, making her want to rub her skin over his. She felt small in his arms, delicate and cherished.

He crossed the patio and sat her on the unused wooden table. “Lie on your back, sumisa,” he said and folded his arms over his chest.

Even though sweat covered her body, she felt the flush rising in her face.

When he lifted his eyebrows slightly, she knew she didn’t want to let him down. Never. She lay back.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, the heat in his eyes scorching across her skin. “When we met, you preferred pain to sharing the intimacy of your orgasm in front of others,” he said, running his hands over her breasts. “Will you offer it to me now?”

Make love here? In front of…everyone?

His eyes held hers. Demanding…more. That she surrender everything. And she wanted to. “I will do whatever Master wants,” she said. “Yes.”

His gaze softened. “You took pain for me, Kimberly,” he said soberly. “Now can you take being restrained-and then pleasure?”

Shivers ran over her body. “Yes, Master.”

His hand stroked over her leg, warming her flesh for a moment. Then he pushed her legs against her chest and slid her down the table until her bottom was just over the edge. A tremor ran through her. The drifty feeling hadn’t quite disappeared, but she rapidly returned to the real world as he hooked her wrist cuffs to the edges of the table even with her waist. He moved her left leg so he could clip the ankle cuff to her wrist cuff and did the same on her right, spreading her legs widely.

Her pussy was exposed. Very exposed. He stood back as she conquered the first shudder of fear. She stared at him, using him as her anchor, knowing he’d keep her safe.

His broad hands ran over her body. “I’ve missed having a little submissive bound and open before me,” he said softly. His knuckles trailed down her cheek. “To have one that loves me and tries so hard to please me is an even better feeling.”

Everything inside her melted.

“But this is a test for you. Will you yield me everything?” He unhooked a wide canvas strap from under the table and pulled it across her low stomach, just above her mound. “Even when I take the last few bits of movement from you?” He secured it tightly, pinning her hips against the smooth table.

“Yes, Master.” She tried not to wiggle, to test the restraints, and couldn’t help herself. But her hips wouldn’t move at all. Panic rose and fell like the tide.

“And a test for me as well. Do I trust your surrender enough that I will push you as I should and give us both what we need?” The ruthless determination in his gaze shook her to the core. “I trust you more than I thought I could. Are you all right, gatita?”

Fear didn’t stand a chance next to Raoul Sandoval, her master. She smiled at him.

“Beautiful Kimberly.” He leaned an arm on the table, filling her vision.

His lips brushed over hers, and he kissed her, severing the current of fear, replacing it with need. His warm hand closed over her breast, cupping it, teasing the nipple to a point even as he stroked his tongue over hers, as he reminded her of his taste, his scent, his possession.

“Mmm.” He lifted his head and smiled, whispering, “You look like you need to be fucked, sumisa.”

And everybody probably saw that. She glared at him and earned a pinch on her nipple that made her gasp. Her breasts were swollen, as if they’d grown a cup size, leaving the skin too tight. Her nipples throbbed, and she could feel the odd stings from where he’d lashed her lightly. He bent down and licked over each nipple, circling them, leaving them wet so the breeze cooled them, tightening them further.

More. Her back arched.

“Too much movement.” Straps went across her, above and below her breasts, constricting everything between until the mounds were pushed up tightly.

And she really couldn’t move.

“Sí, I like that.” He smiled and closed his big hands over her aching breasts, fondling with calloused palms and pinching her nipples lightly. Her clit started throbbing to match the ache in her breasts.

She wanted to beg for more and knew he’d just laugh and do whatever he wanted in his own time. God, why did being naked and exposed, restrained and unable to stop him, make her so, so hot?

He stepped back, regarding her…as if considering all the dirty, dark things he could do to her. Her insides clenched with desire.

What would he do? His hands? Mouth? Toys? But she hadn’t fetched up any plugs or clamps or… Her breath stopped as he walked out of sight. I brought him a crop.

Oh no. No no no.

Master R strolled back into her field of vision, tapping the long, thin rod on his palm. Oh God, he was going to. Her breasts were pointing up like two targets, her legs wide, her labia gaping open. He wouldn’t…would he? She felt the trickle of her own moisture from her pussy down to her asshole.

“Look at that,” he said softly. He rubbed the crop’s leather flap over her breasts, teasing her nipples. “All excited. Not a hint of fear in you.”

She realized it was true. The anticipation of pain seemed to just turn her on further.

“I was watching when Jessica told you about how Z restrained her on the Shadowlands bar.” The crop trailed down her stomach, flickered over her labia.

Oh God. Just the touch of it, the teasing. She felt swollen, tight. Desperate.

His fingers followed the leather. The contrast between cool and warm, smooth and rough, inanimate and alive, made her body pulse with need.

At the foot of the table, he smiled slightly as he traced her folds with one finger, up and over her clit. Deliberately, mercilessly increasing her arousal.

He pushed a finger into her, sliding easily, his thick knuckles adding to the swelling sensation. Two fingers, and his tongue licked over her clit, bringing her higher. Her thighs quivered as she tried to raise her pussy higher, to get more. Nothing-absolutely nothing- moved. She was pinned, completely immobile.

Master R pulled his fingers out of her vagina slowly and ran his slick hand over her leg. “She told you how he used a whip on her pussy.”

He hit her inner thigh with the crop-the very tip of the leather flap. The sting made her gasp.

“I saw how much it excited you, gatita. To think of having your pussy whipped.” The crop made its way up the inside of her thigh to the top of her mound. Each flick of the leather against her skin stung.

Her entire body tensed in anticipation of that small pain landing on her throbbing clit, but he continued up, hitting her lightly across her stomach.

She jumped when the crop hit the underside of her right breast. He circled, once, twice, around her breast. It was so tight, each sting reverberated through the whole mound. Her breathing was like a boat tossing in the waves, finding and losing its rhythm.

He stroked her hair away from her face, studying her carefully, his eyes intent and hot…very hot. Without speaking, he moved to her left breast. Around and around. How could they possibly feel tighter? she wondered, hearing a low whine escape her.

“Yes, give me the sounds.” The leather flicked sharply over her peaked left nipple.

The sudden sting bit like sharp teeth into the sensitive tip and felt as if he’d also struck her clit. “Ah!” Her spine tried to arch; her hands jerked; nothing moved. The feeling of being trapped passing into complete heat as he flicked her right nipple.

Back and forth, leaving only enough time for the bite of pain to dissipate before hitting the other nipple. Her breasts felt as if they were on fire yet so very, very swollen and needy.

He bent and pulled a peak into his mouth, gentle lips, heat, but when he sucked, pulling strongly, her whole body shook like a leaf. Oh God.

As he changed to the other nipple, hot, sucking, her insides started to coil, pressure building inside.

His brown eyes met hers as he lifted his head. “You’re very close to coming, gatita.”

She swallowed, wanting to beg. Please, please, now. He wouldn’t, she knew. The knowledge that he had control, everything was up to him, and she could do nothing about it increased her need as if someone had opened her motor to full throttle, sending excitement humming through her.

He trailed his hand down her body, soothing the little bites the crop had left over her breasts, her stomach, her thighs.

The crop smacked her thigh again. Slightly harder, like a kitten with sharp milk teeth. Up toward her pussy, over her mound, down her leg. Aching. She could feel her engorged clit trying to extend, trying for attention, and she shuddered with fearful anticipation.

Up her leg again, only this time, the flicks hit her outer labia. Pinpricks of pain, up and down her newly shaved, tender flesh, each time closer to the apex. To her clit.

Her breath hitched as he almost…

The crop lifted. Everything inside her tightened. Her inner folds were swollen, wet, as a cool breeze washed over her. Her vulnerable clit pulsed, filling her world. She stared at the crop, in the air, as her muscles pulled against the restraints.

His eyes met hers.

The crop hit directly on her clit. Pain. Pleasure. The sensations mixed, raw and brutal, exploding up and out. Her body tried to shake itself free as the waves of pleasure ripped through her. The scream turned to gasping wails as her pussy contracted over and over.

She pulled in a breath.

The only warning was a touch at her entrance, and then he sheathed his cock in her with one merciless thrust. She gasped in shock. He was too big, her tissues too swollen.

His groin brushed over her abused clit, sending waves and waves of pleasure and pain ripping through her again. He held still for a second, letting her adjust, then looked her in the eyes. “I’m going to take you hard now.”

He didn’t ask permission. God, he felt so huge inside her. She tried to move, and the straps held her in place. Open. She felt possessed, taken. Owned.

Leaning forward onto one forearm, he pushed in deeper. “Look at me, gatita.” His voice was rougher, lower. “Keep your eyes on me.” His free hand curled under her ass, making the stripes there burn as he pulled back. And then he drove into her, using his legs, his hips. The piercing was like a solid finger rubbing her right…right on that inside spot. God.

Kimberly’s pussy contracted around Raoul, hot and slick, battering at his dick. Dios, he’d missed being inside her, missed the connection. In his mind, this was the proper way to end a scene between a couple. Making love confirmed the bonds they’d built.

He squeezed his little sub’s ass, knowing it would hurt, seeing her response in the quivering of her thighs, feeling the way her cunt clutched him.

The legs-high position made her extremely tight, the tugging of the piercing waking every nerve in his cock. He thrust hard again, letting his body tell her, show her, what he would soon say to her. Mine. Mine to possess, to protect, to push, to cherish. To love.

He pounded into her, slowing to run his hands over her breasts, the nipples puffy now, and each tiny pinch on a peak made her pussy tighten. Her blue, blue eyes stayed on his as he picked up the pace. He wasn’t trying to last. She’d had enough, but they both needed this to complete what they had done here.

And she felt so hot, so wet, her cunt was still pulsing around him in a lingering orgasm. He pushed in harder, feeling her cervix against the head of his shaft. His balls pulled up tighter, contracting. Just. One. More. Thrust. And then the heat flowed through his shaft so violently, in such intense pleasure, that his hand tightened on her ass, and she squeaked.

He pulled out and pushed back in, his climax not ending, as if his cock wanted to hold out, to stay inside her. His chest heaved as he fought for air. Sweat trickled down the hollow of his back.

He looked into her eyes, seeing her utter submission, her joy in giving him pleasure, in giving herself. The tie between them was almost palpable, and he wanted her in his arms so badly he almost shook with the need.

He kissed her softly and then pulled out with a pang of regret that matched her soft sigh. Moving back, he pressed a quick kiss to her stomach and smiled against the quivering softness.

Dios, he loved her. And her courage. He hadn’t pulled back. He’d demanded from her what they both needed, and she’d given him…everything. The scene, the sex… Both had answered his worries, made her sure of herself. The connection between them was stronger than ever.

He smiled. The bridge was built, was open, and ready for traffic.

After doing up his jeans, he moved to give her a long, long kiss. “I love you, sumisita mía” he whispered and was surprised when her eyes pooled with tears despite her smile.

Always touching her, he released the straps, rubbing her skin lightly to help the blood return, massaging her shoulders and hip joints. Finally she struggled to a sitting position.

The people on the patio were silent, not wanting to interrupt. Raoul glanced their way. Cullen grinned, his little sub obviously riding him; Marcus had Gabi in front of him and his hand in her shorts. Raoul’s lips twitched. Must have been as hot from the outside as it was from the inside.

Z moved Jessica off his own lap, picked up a tightly rolled blanket from the table beside him, and walked over to hand it to Kimberly.

She started to unfold it, and Z shook his head, so she wrapped her arms around the bundle. He touched her cheek lightly with his fingertips, smiled at Raoul, and returned to his sub.

With a sigh of pleasure, Raoul gathered up his woman, soft and warm and fragrant, fitting…just right…in his arms. After kissing the top of her head, he carried her across the patio, down the steps, and onto the beach.

He went to her favorite spot, the weathered white Adirondack chair. As he settled her against him with a sigh of contentment, she buried her face in his neck, starting to tremble.

The aftermath was catching up with her.

With his arms around her, he awkwardly unfolded the blanket Z had given her and found a bottle of water, a tube of ointment…and his collar. Clever dom. After setting everything to the side of the chair, he wrapped her in the thin blanket then pulled her closer. He still felt so in tune with her that he knew when she started to unravel.

She looked up at him, her expression vulnerable, everything open to his gaze. “I missed you so much,” she whispered. “And I was lonely.” Her eyes filled with tears.

He stroked her cheek, recognizing her need. “Cry for me now, Kimberly.”

“Cry for me.” A dom’s command. Kim stared into his face. He was here, really here, and she hurt, and everything inside her felt as if he’d ripped away all the bandages over her emotions, and he was really here. A sob wrenched out of her, a belated sound since tears already streamed down her face. She buried her face in his neck, breathed him in, and cried.

Cried for the weeks apart and for missing him and for his gift of a furry protector. For him losing his family and finding them again, and for her fear of today and the whip, and because her back hurt like hell, and eventually, she realized she was telling him all that in between her sobs.

He’d laid his cheek on top of her head and was murmuring encouragement, Spanish mingling with English.

After a shuddering breath, she looked up. His eyes crinkled, and he dug a cotton handkerchief from his jeans pocket. A handkerchief.

As she wiped her face, she muttered, “You knew this would happen. I cry way too much around you. I never used to cry at all, so this is all your fault.”

He laughed, low and pleased, knocking her heart over as if it had tripped. “But no, gatita, I think you’re making up for lost time. Eventually it will settle down.”

“One can only hope.” She gave him a soft kiss, enjoying the slow movement of his mouth on hers. “I love you.”

He rubbed his nose against hers and then resettled her on his lap before holding a bottle of water to her lips. After she’d finished most of it, he wrapped the blanket back around her.

With a finger under her chin, he asked, “Kimberly, did you have anything to do with my mother and sister visiting me this morning?”

She jerked and realized she’d given herself away. Oh damn. Her turn.

Gabi and Jessica had already gotten in trouble. That nasty Cullen had called Z and Marcus and told on them. Talk about pissed-off doms.

But how would Master R react? His expression didn’t tell her anything. She bit her lip. “Um.”

He nodded as if her hesitance totally confirmed his suspicions. “Why?”

She huffed out a breath. Dammit. “In the hospital, your family warned me about you, saying what you’d supposedly done to your ex, only…that’s just not you. It bothered me. Worried me. Last night, I, uh, checked around.”

“You asked Sally.”

Whip or not, I’m not going to confirm that. “After I finished my research”-that sounded nicely vague-“I talked with your mom and sister, and now they know Alicia is a liar and a bottom-feeding, skanky bilge rat who slept with her-”

“Kimberly.”

Kimberly broke it off-the scum-sucking bitch-and sweetly added, “I simply explained what consensual means.”

Raoul shook his head. It had been the gatita who’d fixed everything.

All these years, alienated from his family because of a vindictive woman’s lies. He frowned. “I wonder if Alicia spread those lies in the BDSM community.” Not in the Shadowlands, since Z was a walking lie detector, but elsewhere.

“She sounds like she’s enough of a blowfish.” Kimberly frowned. “The Overseer always acted like he thought you were like him.”

“It’s probably why I was accepted as a buyer so quickly. And why I was there to buy you that night.” His arms tightened. Kimberly might have been bought and disappeared forever. Any buyers not picked up at the auction would hide their slaves forever…or dispose of them.

One little submissive in exchange for three years of not speaking to his family. His lips curved. Maybe he’d send his ex a thank-you note.

Kimberly was biting her lip again, still worried about her interference in his life, his generous-hearted gatita who had healed a wound that had lasted far too long. He ran his finger over her cheek. “Thank you, mi amor.”

Her soft lips turned up in a happy smile. “You’re welcome.” She gave him a mischievous look. “Your sister called before we left Gabi’s house-I’m supposed to come to Sunday dinner with you.”

As Master R laughed and hugged her, Kim sighed in relief. In perfect contentment, she lay in his arms, listening to the waves roll in and the sound of gulls in the distance. Even the voices from the party up the shore didn’t disturb her-she was part of them. “So did I pass the test?”

He ran his finger over her lips. “You know you did. Before we go further, do you have questions, some negotiating?”

Oh. Hmm. She’d worried over so many things, and somehow most of them no longer seemed that important. “Will I live with you?”

“You will.”

“So I’d move here and get a job?”

“Do you want to keep working?” He kissed her. “You don’t have to, you know.”

“I want to.” She wrinkled her nose. “Housework is past boring.”

His laugh bounced her head on his chest. “This is your decision, gatita. And, before you ask, your money is also your own. I have enough trouble with my own finances.”

Her breath eased out. “You’re being awfully easygoing.” Disappointment, worry tightened her chest. Wasn’t he going to stay in charge?

“Now and then. I’m also making one very big concession, chiquita,” he murmured. “You will have a small part of the day to call your own…although I may take that away eventually.” Master R considered her, his eyes narrowing. “You like rules and schedules, so…in the morning, from arising until noon-or at your job-you are in charge of yourself.”

One worry…of being constantly monitored…disappeared. But…I want him in charge.

“The rest of the time, you submit completely to me,” Master R said. He leaned forward, holding her eyes. “For sex, for clothing, for food and exercise. As we lived before. You are mine.”

Her breath huffed out as the tightness in her chest eased into warmth.

His hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back so she stared up at him. The love in his eyes did not conceal the determination, the sheer steel of his character. “That is the point, is it not, chiquita?”

“Oh yes.”

He kissed her so thoroughly that she felt owned right down to her soul and beyond, then smiled, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Lunch has been and gone, so this is my time, no?”

A tremor went through her as amusement lit his eyes. Uh-oh. “Yes, Master R.”

“Lie across my knees.”

A spanking. Her back and bottom still burned from the whipping and flogging. But…but. From the look on his face, she knew better than to beg for lenience. “Yes, Master.” Slowly, as if maybe he’d change his mind-had that happened yet?-she went stomach down over his lap. “Good girl. Now hold still.”

She tensed. Something cold drizzled over her skin.

Ointment, she realized, and then his ruthless, hard hand rubbed it over her back and bottom. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Unable to help herself, she squirmed.

“Stay still.” He set a heavy hand on her lower back to pin her like a bug as he treated every stripe and welt and sore spot. Every damned one. He ignored her wiggling and whimpers-and actually laughed a few times. Sadistic bastard dom.

When he finally finished, everything throbbed with pain. He set her on her feet, rose, and with a grin, lifted her chin to kiss her sullen lips. “I take good care of this little body that is mine, no?”

His good humor was contagious, and her mouth curved up as she grumbled out, “Thank you, Master.”

He picked something up, then turned toward the patio and gave a shrill whistle.

She saw he held the collar in his hand. Oh my God. He was really going to do it.

The Shadowlands people gathered quietly along the edge of the patio. Kim saw a tearyeyed Gabi holding Marcus’s hand. Jessica was tucked under Z’s arm, and the Shadowlands owner was smiling. Andrea and Cullen had equally big grins. Dan with Kari wiping tears from her cheeks. On left end of the line, Sally beamed. On the right of line, the FBI agents had satisfaction in their faces. Sam’s eyes met hers. He nodded, his expression pleased and a little haunted.

And the rest of the people… She knew she’d have time to get to know them all. Unable to show how happy she was, she could only grin up at everyone.

Then she turned to Master R. Her heart hammered in her chest as it had done so often this past month, only her hands were warm, her lips were curved in a smile, and her body wasn’t filled with fear, but joy.

He glanced at the ground.

She knelt with perfect grace and bowed her head.

He raised his voice. “Kimberly, I promise to hold you and keep you safe, to support you and guide you, to be honest and open with you. You have trusted me to tend to your happiness, health, and well-being. I will never break that trust.” His voice was rough, his eyes so, so warm. He held up the collar, the engraving gleaming in the sunlight. “Do you accept this collar as a symbol of your submission and devotion?”

She wanted special words to give him back but could only manage, “I will wear it proudly.”

He touched the buckle. “The lock is missing. At the beginning of the new year, if we are of the same mind, then we will have a formal collaring-and locking-ceremony.”

Under the murmuring of approval, he whispered in an amused voice, “That means I’ll get to whip you again.”

She choked, trying not to laugh. Relief mingled with joy. He understood that her mind and emotions weren’t as yet all her own, and would give her time to finish healing, to let her enter into a formal relationship with a whole heart.

He fastened the collar around her neck, checking that it was loose enough, and the feeling of belonging shook her whole body. His eyes crinkled. “That’s exactly the right reaction, sumisita mía,” he murmured.

When tipping over backward into the ocean during a scuba dive, she’d always have a moment of disorientation before everything turned clear and the ocean turned to an embrace. She’d plunged, and now here she was, right where she wanted to be. “Master, have I mentioned how much I love you?”

To the sound of applause, he lifted Kim to her feet, his hands warm and firm on her arms. His eyes met hers, serious, burning with his own love. “Not nearly often enough. Please work on that, sumisita mía. ”

“It will be my pleasure, Master.”