Cherise Sinclair - The Dom's Dungeon

She swallowed and nodded, wrapping her arms around Butler, although who comforted whom, she wasn't sure.

“Relax, little cat. That's tomorrow. Not here yet.” Bending down, Alex tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at her, his eyes crinkling. “Tonight, you deserve a reward for surviving all those interviews. I ordered us a pizza with everything on it.”

“Really?” When they'd shopped for her clothes, they'd wandered past a pizza place, fragrant with tomato sauce and melted cheese. She'd mentioned that she'd always rewarded herself for good grades with a fully loaded pizza.

Just an off-the-cuff comment…but he'd remembered.

It promised to be an interesting—and miserable—evening. Alex pushed open a window overlooking the Sound and let the breeze dry his body. The waves frothed over the sand, reminding him of the afternoon and the enchanted expression on his little sub's face. He'd enjoyed the way she'd immersed herself in the feel of the sand on her bare feet, the gentle movement of the water, the smell of the sea brine. Even the sandpipers running down the beach, the hermit crabs scuttling around under stolen shells, and the seagulls circling had received her absorbed attention.

He hadn't heard her truly laugh before, but when Butler raced after the gulls, sending them squawking into the air, her laughter escaped, clear and melodic. Free of restraint. Later, when he'd coaxed her back to the house, her face had been colored pink from sunburn and wind, and every tense line had disappeared.

Damn, but he wanted to hear her laugh like that again and see her eyes free of shadows.

He sighed and toweled off his hair. Instead the evening would be stressful, especially for her, but he couldn't refuse Drake's request. As the injured party, MacKensie needed to witness this, even if she'd rather not. He tossed the towel over a chair and pulled on black jeans.

The little vet was a compassionate woman. And an honest woman. Alex still hadn't figured out why she'd broken into the dungeon, but he'd found no lack of character in her nature. She'd held to their bargain despite her qualms.

In all reality, her transgression hadn't been that great, and her trip to his club should have served as full repayment and punishment. If she'd been anyone else, he'd have released her at that point.

But his little sub would have disappeared from his life. He knew that. And when he'd taken her under his command, he'd become obligated to more than fairness. If he could accomplish nothing with her problems, then he'd step away. But she'd given him her trust and more. He snorted at the masculine satisfaction welling inside him. Her first orgasm in twelve years—or maybe even longer? She had said twelve years for sex, not for a climax.

In the master bath, the jets shut off.

As Alex buttoned his shirt, Mac walked out, flushed pink and swathed in one of the oversize terry-cloth robes he kept at the beach house. Her scent—vanilla, citrus, and woman—drifted to him, and he hooked an arm around her waist, ignoring her squeak.

“You smell edible, little sub,” he murmured. Wishing he could toss her on the bed and bury his face between her legs, he settled for shoving her robe off her shoulder and nuzzling the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Moist skin, soft. He bit down on the muscle there, and he felt a quiver run through her. When he slid his hand inside the robe, her nipples were already bunching.

With a sigh of regret, he smiled into her outraged yet already aroused gaze. “Your outfit is on the bed. Wear it all—and nothing else, pet. I'll see you downstairs.”

After savoring one last caress of the tiny peaked nipples, he released her. He'd kept his touch casual all week; her break was over. By the time he finished tonight, he intended to see those peaks swollen to twice the size, dark red, and rigid.

Dressed as ordered, Mac walked into the living room and stopped to survey the situation. Alex was building a fire in the fireplace across the room. Just behind him on the couch, Zachary, a gray-haired rancher, sat with his red-haired sub in his lap.

Over by the wall of windows, Peter, a lean blond lawyer, and his sub, Hope, watched the last remnants of pink disappear from Mount Rainier. Mac vaguely remembered meeting the two at the club. Short and round, with freckles and an infectious giggle, Hope seemed far too cute for her serious Dom.

Mac was the only sub dressed in a costume. Four years of college, vet school, interning—all those years and here she was, attired in a fancy and very revealing maid's outfit. Go figure.

Halfway across the room to the others, she stopped. Why am I doing this anyway? Frowning, she walked up to Alex. “Could I speak with you for a moment?” She added a reluctant “Sir” when his eyebrows rose.

“Excuse us,” he said to the others before walking with her out onto the deck.

Mac leaned over the railing and looked down. The beach below had an eerie gleam from the moon rising in the east, and the water glimmered as small waves rolled onto the sand.

“Did you have a question for me, little vet?” Alex set a warm hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him.

“Yes. Obviously Cynthia isn't a problem for you any longer, so why am I still pretending to be your submissive?”

Silence.

The pause worried her. Darkness shadowed Alex's face, and she couldn't read his expression. “You have two parts to your question, MacKensie,” he said finally. “First, we are not yet finished with Cynthia. I can promise you that.” His voice had a grim quality that made her shiver.

His voice deepened. “Second.” He tangled his hand in her loose hair and pulled her head back, putting her fully in the light streaming from the glass door. “Are you really pretending, little one? When I do this”—he took a step forward, pressing his body against hers, immobilizing her against the railing, and holding her hair so she was forced to stare up at him—“are you insulted and annoyed? Or does something in you shiver?”

With his body against hers, he couldn't help but feel the tremor that ran through her. Still holding her hair captive, he took her lips roughly, demanding and possessive.

The heat sweeping through her body turned to fire when his hand captured her breast. Too many sensations hit her at once: his mouth possessing hers, his powerful body trapping her, his hand on her breast, the thumb scraping over her tightening nipple. By the time he pulled back, she'd been thoroughly kissed. And thoroughly aroused.

He studied her face before stepping back and letting her free. “Our bargain stands. You may go back in.” He motioned politely to the door.

Her legs unsteady, she reentered the room. Damn. Her face heated as she realized how she must look: tousled and turned on. God knew, she felt turned on, and wasn't that a strange sensation?

A rap on the front door interrupted her thoughts. Were they expecting more people? “I'll get this one, pet,” Alex said, patting her bottom on the way past.

When he opened the door, Mac backed up a step, her breath catching in her throat. Steel, the Dom who'd attacked her, stood there with a big black bag slung over his shoulder and wearing battered leathers that left his chest completely bare.

He saw her standing frozen in the center of the room. “Relax, girl. I'm not here for you.” He glanced at Alex. “Definitely a pretty sub.”

“I think so.” Alex raised his voice to the other guests. “This is Steel, who will handle the evening's punishment.”

As he and Steel moved into the living room, Mac retreated, trying to find an unobtrusive spot to hide.

“Sit here with me.” Curled in one corner of the couch by the windows, Hope patted the cushion beside her.