Cherise Sinclair - This is who I am

Blood poured back in, setting the abused tissues into engulfing brilliant fire. “Saaaaam.” Her scream echoed in the room

He laughed and massaged her breasts, making the sensation overwhelming.

Her brain fogged. Her body wasn’t hers, was Sam’s—all Sam’s—responding to his merciless hands and cock. His cock dragged across a spot that made her moan. He angled himself to hit that place, over and over.

As she came again in heavy, clenching waves of pleasure, her head sagged. He filled her completely, mind and body, and when he pressed deep into her, taking his satisfaction, he owned her emotions as well.

MINE . ARMS AROUND his woman, Sam rested his forehead on her back, his cock pulsing inside her. With every small tremor of her body, her hot, slick sheath clenched around him, keeping him there, just past coming, so it felt as if maybe—maybe—he could come one more time.

He figured he’d end up in a grave, but it might be worth it.

Instead, he kissed between her shoulder blades and grinned when her pussy convulsed again.

As he pulled out of her, they both sighed at the loss. Damn, but he cared for this woman.

He did.

He carefully settled her in the corner, disposed of his condom, then grabbed a blanket from a drawer in the filing cabinet. As he wrapped the fuzzy material around her, he touched her cheek gently, pleased to see her contented expression. Still in subspace. Worry-free. Happy. Far, far better than the way the last scene here had ended.

Some of her euphoria seemed to settle inside him. Putting that look on a masochist’s face was definitely the icing on the cake for a sadist.

He kissed her lightly and then cleaned up the room.

After slinging his bag over his shoulder, he opened the door and picked her up. She blinked at him.

“You with me, girl?” he asked, studying her face. The flush of climax had faded, but her color wasn’t bad.

“Yes,” she whispered. A crease appeared between her dark red brows in an unhappy look. “I came… People watched…?”

Her words were slurred, but, remembering his screwup at the auction, he understood. “Not in public, baby.” As he headed for the door, he turned to show her the closed window blinds. He’d pulled them when getting the canes out of his bag. She hadn’t even noticed.

“Oh.” Her cheek rubbed against him, and somehow without moving, she sank closer in his arms. A snuggler. He had regulars who didn’t like aftercare other than water and carbs. Some wanted company but didn’t like being touched afterward. Some liked being held.

Linda drowned in being cuddled, always trying to inch closer. He made sure his bottoms had what they needed after a scene. But Linda was different; he damn well loved aftercare with her.

In the main room, he found a secluded chair and settled in. With his free hand, he grabbed the sports drink from his bag and popped the top up. “Drink, baby.”

Her eyes were still glazed, but the good little submissive tried to obey. Her lips closed over the bottle cap, making him remember how her mouth felt around his cock. When she sucked in some liquid, just the sound made him start to harden again. He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head, keeping his grip on the bottle. “More, baby.”

“Mmm.”

When she’d taken enough to please him, he fed her pieces of a chocolate bar. Alertness started to return to her face.

A small sound made him look up. Rainie stood at the unwritten boundary, checking to see if he needed anything. Good trainee. Despite her brassy personality, she was as finely attuned to nuances as anyone he’d met.

Sam ran his knuckles over Linda’s cheek. A bit cooler than he liked. He said to Rainie, “Can you bring a hot chocolate—not too hot—and a beer.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

He let Linda drop off again, tipped his head back, and simply enjoyed her soft body. He’d rather have a soft, satisfied woman in his lap than a purring cat any day.

Rainie appeared, set the drinks on the end table, and moved it to the exact spot where he could reach them easily.

He nodded at her. “Good job, girl. You do the trainees proud.”

Before she moved away, the flush of delight in her face made him smile. He’d been unconvinced of her suitability when Z had proposed her for the trainee spot, but as always, Z recognized a good submissive sooner than anyone.

Sam jiggled Linda, waited until her attention fixed on him, then held the hot chocolate to her lips.

One sip. Two. He chuckled at her blissful sigh. “Warm.”

“That’s right, baby.” He studied her face. The tiny muscles around her eyes and mouth had relaxed. The tenseness of her neck and shoulders was gone. Floggers and fucking—a surefire cure for what ails you.

Still partly in Domspace, he got off on the fact that he’d done that for her.

Her brows drew together, and he had a moment of worry before her big brown eyes lifted. “That so-called interview… You were trying to tell me something.”

“I was.” After living with a woman who was downright stupid, he valued one who was not. He stroked a finger across the curve of her cheek. Damn, he liked touching her. “Wanted you to catch on to what you’re doing.”

“But you’re a Dom. You’re supposed to like obedience.” She handed him her chocolate, and he set it on the table.

“I do. But surrender should come from the heart, not from habit, especially at first.” Hell, how could he explain this? “You went straight from your preacher family to a conservative marriage. Skipped the rebellion when most kids question—and dump—what their parents taught.”

She nodded. “True.”

“Then you had the Overseer’s slave training beat into you. Lot of programming there, baby.”

“Yes.” Her mouth tightened.

“Here’s your homework. Think about what you’re doing. Are you offering your submission or just being a good girl? Who do you submit to and why? Who controls your behavior, you or your past?”

He closed his eyes as his own words hit home with even more impact than Z’s directive. His past controlled him. Had programmed him.

To hell with that. No more.

“Homework, huh?” A tiny dimple appeared in her cheek. “Thank you for the lesson, Master Sam. And the reward.”

He combed his fingers through her hair. Damp at the temples. Silky smooth. “Linda.” The words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t even say the damn phrase in his head.

His teeth ground together. He damn well would. This battle he’d win. For her. For them. “I…” He sucked in air.

“ I. Love. You .” Each word was hard-won. But audible. He’d said it.

Her eyes widened, then filled with tears. Her hand opened and pressed to his cheek. “I love you, Sam.”

He felt as if he’d been dragged behind the plow. For years. Her palm was still on his face; he put his hand over hers. “I’m sorry. About last week.”

“I think I understand.” She asked gently, “Nicole. Did she…? Why didn’t you…?”

Get a divorce sooner . He filled in the rest of the sentence. Little mama with her big heart, worrying about his daughter. “I’d told Nancy I was a sadist. We never played, but she knew. Because of that, I wouldn’t have been able to get sole custody.” He felt the frustration flood his system. “I couldn’t leave Nicole with her—not even part-time—so we…hung on until my lawyer had enough to sway the judge and Nicole was old enough they’d listen to her wishes.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” She had the softest velvety-brown eyes he’d ever seen.

“She’s still around. Takes me a while to get past the memories when I see her. Give me time if it happens again.”