Shayla Black: Theirs to Cherish

He gripped her hair in his fist and tugged. “Look at me. That’s it . . . Come for me now!”

“Sean!” Her body jerked and her cunt clamped down on him. “Sean!”

As soon as she screamed his name, pleasure sizzled through his blood, igniting everything inside him. Climax rocketed his system, launching him into a realm of thick, tangled ecstasy he’d never known existed. The explosion blasted through his body, deep in his chest, marking his soul. In his head, she might be his, but he knew damn well that he was now hers. Tonight had complicated the fuck out of everything. But as he surged to the peak, he didn’t care at all.

“Callie . . .” he panted. “I love you!”

STANDING in the shadows of Dominion’s dungeon, Mitchell Thorpe couldn’t miss the orgasm that wracked Callie’s body, the fact that she screamed another man’s name, or the unabashed way in which she shared herself with that fucking suspicious Scot. As much as he wanted to deny it, the sight and sounds damn near felled Thorpe like a hatchet to the chest.

He’d hoped that insisting on so many restrictions when he’d allowed Sean Kirkpatrick to collar Callie would frustrate the man. That the asshole would leave. Thorpe didn’t trust Kirkpatrick. Something was off about the guy . . . But no matter what he’d done, Sean had proven goddamn single-minded when it came to the girl.

Damn it! Thorpe hated the sight of the other man surging deep inside Callie, where he ached to be himself. Clutching the little silk robe he’d retrieved from her room the second he’d realized she meant to let Sean fuck her, he closed his eyes, refusing to watch the bastard come inside her.

The reasons Thorpe could never have Callie were carved into his brain. And even though he’d beaten the dead horse mentally enough to recite the rationale in his sleep, he clenched his jaw and reminded himself again. There would always be fourteen years, two months, and three days’ difference in their ages. Besides, he knew Callie wasn’t likely to stay with him much longer. Forever was out of the question. More important, he could never give her the kind of love she craved and deserved.

Cursing under his breath, he dared to open his eyes and stare at the wild tangle of Callie’s black hair brushing the fair, flushed skin of her back. Desire gnawed at him, biting deep. He’d always believed that by walking away from her that December night two years ago, he could prevent her from breaking his heart. Thorpe didn’t find it comforting to be proven so wrong.

Kirkpatrick shouting out his love for her gouged him in the gut. Hearing the Scot admit his feelings for Callie aloud not only made him jealous as hell, but it proved the man had balls. Thorpe was almost in awe. But Sean obviously didn’t understand her at all. Thorpe had no doubt what Callie’s response to the man’s unexpected declaration would be.

Right on cue, she stiffened and shook her head, then scrambled off his lap. Kirkpatrick stood and tore off his condom, trying to zip up while reaching for her with an expression meant to be gentle and calm.

Thorpe snorted. Wrong approach again.

It didn’t surprise him at all when Callie whirled around, eyes squeezed shut tightly, arms over her breasts, and ran—straight into him.

When she would have stumbled back from their collision, he gripped her shoulders. Thorpe tried not to look at her breasts again. Why tempt himself with what he couldn’t have? She blinked up at him, fear and anguish mixed on her face. Guilt followed.

“Let go,” she begged. “Please.”

Those words alone told Thorpe how raw Kirkpatrick had scraped Callie. Normally, she’d try all kinds of foot stomping, demanding, and plain ol’ manipulation before she resorted to showing her soft, submissive side to anyone. Whatever the man’s game, Thorpe had to give Sean credit for opening her emotions far wider than expected.

Over her shoulders, he eased the robe he’d retrieved in case her second thoughts about having sex with the Scot set in. Nice to see that he still knew her so well.

He sent her a sharp shake of his head. “Not yet, pet.”

Callie shoved her arms through the holes and belted the robe tight, sending him a defiant glare. But tears still lurked under it. The fucking Scot playing with her heart had rattled her. Thorpe hated the asshole for it even more. His need to protect her growled, chomping at the bit to tear the collar from her neck and free her. He couldn’t do that, but he had every intention of having a “chat” with Kirkpatrick.

“Why are your hands on Callie?” Sean demanded. “She’s my sub.”

“You’re under my roof, and she’s obviously upset.”

“Which is why I need to talk to her. She and I should be sorting this out. Alone.”

Normally, he would agree. But he wouldn’t risk Callie by leaving her vulnerable with a man he swore had some hidden agenda. A fraud. Besides, Kirkpatrick didn’t know her like he did and never would. “At Dominion, my word is law. Play by my rules or you’re welcome to leave. Your choice.”

Sean clenched his fists and ignored him, focusing on Callie. “Talk to me, lovely. If I upset you, help me understand why.”

Thorpe felt her stiffen in his grip, then she looked up at him, her gaze imploring. He understood instantly. She’d developed feelings for this man and hated to hurt him. But he also knew that she didn’t dare let him close.

“Callie, go to your room. I’ll be in to see you in a minute.” Thorpe motioned for Zeb, one of the dungeon monitors.

“You can’t send her from me. I didn’t hurt her,” Kirkpatrick protested.

With a shrug, Thorpe blew Sean off and addressed the approaching DM. “Take Callie to her room. No one enters until I say otherwise. And she doesn’t leave.” When Callie gasped, he sent her a knowing look. “Do you have something to say, pet?”

Since she wasn’t about to admit that she’d plotted to flee the club, she remained silent. But he knew it as sure as he knew himself. Kilpatrick hadn’t just plumbed her physically. He’d pried her heart open, and she was preparing to react to that in the only way she knew—by running. Already, she’d mentally packed her bags. Thorpe forced down his panic and reminded himself that as long as she was still here, he could fix the situation. The easiest solution would be to toss the damn Scot out on his ear.

Callie looked ready to grind her teeth as she stomped off. Zeb followed with a grin and a wink.

Thorpe vowed to deal with her little fit of pique as soon as he’d unmasked this fraud and rid him from her life. “My office. Now.”

He didn’t wait to see if Kirkpatrick followed. He’d rather the fucker find the exit and save him the breath. But when he reached his personal domain and rounded his desk, the Scot stood in the portal, all but foaming at the mouth.

Sean slammed the door, enclosing them in a privacy steeped in thick air. “You have no right to separate me from Callie.”

“I’m responsible for the welfare of all the subs under this roof. Until I know why she was running away from you in tears, then yes, I do.”

“That’s a piss-poor excuse. You’re jealous because you want her for your own.”

Thorpe took his time answering, sitting in his leather chair and staring the charlatan down. Idly, he wondered when and how he’d been stupid enough to tip Sean off. Xander had pointed it out, too, a few months ago. Maybe he was getting sloppy.

“I have not laid a single finger on the girl for any reason in nearly two years. So what you believe I want is irrelevant. Let’s talk about what actually happened.”

Sean sat, poised on the edge of his chair as if he’d rather fight. “I restrained and blindfolded her, then I flogged her. She reached a peaceful subspace. Then when she came out, I made love to her. It’s been an emotional night. That’s all.”