Cherise Sinclair - If only

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

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

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

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

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

“I just need to sleep,” she protested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bondage table?” Vance asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finished, he crossed his arms and surveyed his work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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