Cherise Sinclair - The Dom's Dungeon

A noise came from Steel, a grating sound as his teeth clenched. “Did she—Did you—Hell. Permission to speak to your sub?”

Alex snorted. “Granted.”

When Steel leaned forward, Mac couldn't help but cringe back, her bare feet scrambling uselessly on the couch. Alex's arms tightened, trapping her on his lap.

Steel winced, and his face turned to concrete. “You didn't want this at all, did you?”

Mac shook her head as the shaking started again. She shoved her face in the hollow of Alex's shoulder.

“Girl, look at me.”

Silence. The men waited. For her.

Okay, Mac, show a few guts. Suck it up and handle it . Her fingers ached from her grip on Alex's shirt, but she managed to turn.

To her surprise, Steel looked more tired than terrifying as he said, “A safe word is a word not usually used in everyday talk, and if a sub uses it, everything stops. A gesture is used if the sub is gagged. If you'd used either, I'd have stopped. Right then.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Fuck. Since you didn't know about them, you wouldn't use them. I'm sorry, girl.”

He fished a card out of his pocket and handed it to the monitor. “If you catch the asshole who did this, I'll be pleased to do anything needed to take him down. Very pleased.” He handed one to Alex. “If there's anything I can do to help her or you, call me.”

Catch the asshole? Coldness ran up Mac's spine as everything began to make sense. Someone had set her up to be whipped. Why?

“You got any idea of who did this, Alex?” the monitor asked.

“Oh yes. The trouble is, there's no proof,” Alex growled. “But I know. A sub wants me—obsession-type want.”

The dungeon monitor frowned. “You were with Cynthia last time I saw you here. The society girl.”

Alex nodded.

“Hell.” The dungeon monitor glanced at the paper. “Drake's going to blow his stack when he hears about this. But he'll investigate up one side and down another. If the barmaid remembers anything… But they're so busy tonight, I'm not holding out much hope.”

“Do what you can. I'll do the same.”

Alex could barely control his rage as he carried MacKensie back to the group. He considered leaving immediately, but letting her flee the club would reinforce her fears, legitimate as they were. And she needed to face the real assailant.

Dammit . Although Cynthia should be arrested, no BDSM club welcomed publicity, and few members would volunteer to testify.

Alex settled in a chair, pulling Mac closer to him. He'd never felt such satisfaction as when she had hurtled herself into his arms, knowing he'd protect her.

Her shivering had disappeared once Steel left. Tough little sub—his jaw tensed—who had been hurt because of him.

“Sir?” One of the subs approached warily, her eyes wide.

Alex took a breath to smother the anger and gave her a smile.

The sub relaxed. “Sir, I have drinks for you and your sub.”

“Thank you.” Alex nodded to the table beside the arm of the chair. “Right there, please.”

The sub obeyed and trotted away. Alex handed Mac the gin and tonic he'd ordered earlier for her and picked up his scotch.

She sipped, blinked, and sipped again. “I haven't had one of these since college,” she said and actually smiled. Two more sips and she looked at him full in the face. “Thanks for the rescue. And for believing me.”

He nodded. Such big brown eyes. To see them filled with terror and tears had seared his heart. A ball of anger still burned deep inside him, one with no place to go.

“What are you going to do about her?” she asked quietly. She glanced at Cynthia, who knelt at Brian's feet two chairs down.

“If a witness turns up, we'll look at prosecution. I'm going to talk with the management here and at the other clubs. And with the Doms. She'll discover the BDSM world is smaller than she knows and a lot more unfriendly.” He stroked MacKensie's golden hair. “I'm sorry, MacKensie. Our lifestyle has many safeguards, but none that could prevent this kind of end run around them.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” She leaned her head against him. The gesture, now, when she wasn't terrified, showed her trust in him had grown.

“Sir, permission to speak?”

Alex looked up at the sound of the smooth, rich voice. Cynthia knelt at his feet, eyes downcast. He knew she wouldn't incriminate herself; she was a very smart woman. But he'd see what she had to say. “Speak.”

“Master Bob said you've taken that sub on for training, but I can see that you are not intimate with her. I would be pleased to serve the needs that she can't.” Cynthia opened her corset, letting her full breasts spill out. Tall and slender and with those augmented breasts, Cynthia was a walking wet dream. And in his case, a walking nightmare.

Alex suppressed a growl. “I don't—”

Giving a tiny duplication of his growl, Mac glared at Cynthia. “He doesn't need you, you overbred cow; he has me.” And she grabbed his hand and shoved it between her legs.

“Well, now,” Alex murmured in a low rumble that sent nerves racing up Mac's arms.

Oh frak, what have I done? Mac froze, shocked at her own behavior.

Alex's lips curved, and then he gave Cynthia a dismissive look. “I'm more than adequately served. Leave.”

The sub jerked back as if Alex had slapped her. Mac almost laughed as Cynthia stalked away, rehooking her corset, heading toward the front of the club. Apparently the Dom she'd accompanied had left. Smart man.

Suddenly Alex's hand pressed against Mac's pussy. She jumped, her gaze shooting to his amused eyes. His hand felt huge between her thighs, and hot against her bare labia.

“If you keep rearranging our bargain,” he said, “I might not be able to keep up.”

“I…” Trapped by his blue gaze, she couldn't find the right words to say. I didn't want you to take her? I was jealous? I wanted to be mean? All of them were true. “But…”

His eyes crinkled. “You, little cat, do not have permission to speak.” He lifted his hand from the juncture between her legs. “And you're not ready to be played with down here…yet.” His fingers threaded through her hair, and he leaned forward, tipping her back against the arm of the chair. Her gasp opened her lips, but he didn't shove his tongue down her throat, didn't grab her breast.

Why hadn't he groped her down there? She'd sure given him the chance.

Instead his tongue traced over her lower lip in a teasing slide. Then the upper. His mouth brushed against her cheek, her chin, her neck; his lips were firm yet smooth. Not wet or sloppy at all.

When he returned to her mouth, he nibbled her lower lip, then sucked on it lightly. Slanting his mouth across hers, he kissed her, his tongue only caressing her lips, no further. He moved down her neck with tiny nips and licks and kisses. She shivered when he bit the muscle at the top of her shoulder, holding it between his teeth long enough to send goose bumps down her arms. Back up, ever so slowly, and this time when he took her lips, she opened to him, letting her tongue fence with his.

Never sloppy. He was even so careful that she wanted to push him a little. Her tongue slid into his mouth, and suddenly his hand fisted in her hair, holding her in place as he ravaged her mouth, the controlled violence shocking.

Exciting.

When he pulled back and licked over her lips, she took a deep breath. The air felt as if the temperature in the building had been raised too high. Then coolness wafted over her chest. She stiffened, looking down. Her bustier lay open, lacing undone, her breasts exposed.

Alex's arm felt like iron under her back, and that hand still held her hair. Held her trapped. Without taking his eyes from hers, he curved a big hand around her breast, his fingers hot against her skin. She inhaled sharply at the unexpectedly erotic sensations shooting through her as he caressed her. The surge of…of something inside her frightened her, and she grasped his wrist and ripped her gaze from his.