Cherise Sinclair - The Dom's Dungeon

Then he pressed into her again, stroking that spot inside. “Come for me, MacKensie.” His fingers rubbed her clit firmly, and with his other hand, he slapped her bottom.

“Oooh, oo, oo, oo.” She bucked on him as he plunged his thumb in and out, as his fingers tapped her clit just enough that her orgasm wouldn't stop. His hard hand pressed her down again, pinning her to his knees as he drew every last spasm out of her.

When he finally picked her up off his knees and held her, rocked her, told her he loved her, that she was his wonderful sub, she cried. Oh God, she cried. Wrenching, gut-hurting sobs.

When she finished, she whispered, “I'm sorry.”

He huffed a laugh and lifted her chin with one finger. “Make it up to me,” he murmured.

She nodded and started to unbutton his shirt. He chuckled again. “No, little cat. It goes like this…” He looked into her eyes and stroked her cheek. “I love you, MacKensie.”

Her heart seemed to stop, then compress, then sink. She just stared at him.

A crease appeared in his cheek. “We'll try again. I love you, MacKensie.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for…

He wanted her to—he wanted her to love him back? He wanted that? From her? She met his gaze, saw the patience and—oh God—the love. “I love you, Alex,” she whispered.

His eyes crinkled. “Better. A little tentative, but I'm sure you'll improve with practice. I love you, MacKensie.” He waited.

Her lips curved, and she said firmly, “I love you, Alex.”

“Perfect.” He kissed her, sweetly at first, tenderly, then so possessively that her heart started to pound. His hands moved over her breasts, his thumbs tormenting her nipples into swollen peaks. When he released her, she moaned a complaint.

Smiling, he put her hands on his shirt again. “Now, little sub, now you may show how much you love me.”

She undid the buttons, removed his shirt, and settled beside him. Her bottom touched the bed, and she winced and then gave him a mean look. “You want me to show you like you did me?”

He barked a laugh, and suddenly she was underneath him, his weight pressing her down into the mattress. He shoved her legs apart, freed his cock, and slid it into her in one ruthless thrust. One hand fisted in her hair, holding her face in place as he frowned into her eyes. “Little sub, if you try to swat me, I'll tie you up so tight, you won't be able to move.” He slid his cock in and out, as if he'd felt the clench of her pussy. “And then I'll take you so many times, you won't be able to walk.” In and out.

“Or maybe I'll strap a dildo in you and a vibrator on your front and make you come until your voice goes hoarse.”

Her breath stopped, and then she could see the amusement in his eyes that he'd hidden. “Ah, I know. I'll have a party and let everyone spank you”—he lifted her legs, pressing her knees upward, then moved inside her, harder, deeper, faster—“and then I'll take you again.”

Peter led them through the formal parlor and into a more-casual family room before raising his voice. “Hope. Alex and MacKensie are here.”

Mac braced herself. She'd had years of seeing disdain on people's faces. Peter had appeared friendly, but hey, he was a lawyer and Alex's friend. He'd never—

Her thoughts blanked when Hope appeared, sped across the room, and wrapped Mac in a whirlwind hug. A hug? After a second of complete shock, Mac managed to lift her arms and hug back. And breathe. Breathing was important.

Eventually Hope stepped back and set her hands on her hips. “So—at the party yesterday? Well, I've never seen anyone retreat that fast before. You were gone before anyone could move.” She scowled. “You dummy.”

Mac shook her head as her preconceptions slid right out from under her. “Why are you still talking to me? Didn't you hear anything that man said?”

“Yeah. And Alex explained. You were just a baby.” Hope's brows drew together. “A couple of my students have dropped out over the years, and I pray they aren't getting caught in something like that.” She pointed at the couch. “Sit down and don't even think about trying to escape.”

When the pixie trotted back into her kitchen, Mac looked at the men helplessly.

Alex grinned.

Peter ruffled her hair and pushed her toward the living room. “Sit. You have some decisions to make, and Alex asked me to help you with them.”

Decisions? Mac sank down on the couch, reassured when Alex sat next to her, his warmth against her side. He leaned back, as always totally at ease, his arms resting on the back of the couch.

Hope emerged from the kitchen with a tray of drinks. “Iced tea. I hope you like it,” she said. She set the tray on the coffee table, handed Peter a glass, and then perched on the arm of his chair.

“Thanks, love.” Peter smiled at Hope, then tipped his glass at Mac. “Are you planning to stay in Seattle, MacKensie? And will you be with Alex?”

She opened her mouth, closed it, and then burst out, “I can't.” She felt Alex stiffen and turned to him, trying to make him see. “You have a reputation. You're one of the movers and shakers in Seattle society. My being with you will ruin your reputation. They'd ostracize you.” Her chest hurt, but she forced the words out. “I can't do that to you. Don't you understand?”

Alex glanced at Peter. “See why I love her?” Taking her hand, he kissed her palm. “I am one of the owners of a notorious BDSM club named Chains, and people know that. So I already have a disreputable reputation that, oddly enough, everyone manages to ignore. You will do me no damage, pet.”

“Your mother…”

He grinned. “Ah. That you'll have to take up with her, although I think you underestimate her. But, MacKensie, her opinion doesn't affect what is between us.”

Didn't he understand anything?

“MacKensie.” Peter dragged her attention back. “Assuming none of this happened, would you want to stay with Alex?”

“Oh God, yes.”

Alex chuckled and pulled her closer, tucking her into his side as if she were a little chick. “There's the right answer.”

“All right.” Peter pursed his lips as he thought. “Does Carl Dickerson have anything else to throw at you, or has he shot his wad, so to speak?”

“Peter. Honestly!” Hope smacked him on the thigh.

Mac shook her head. How could they take this so calmly, even joking about it, as if her past was a simple problem to be solved? “There's nothing else. I didn't do drugs, wasn't arrested, didn't steal.”

“Just a year of being a baby hooker, then. Good.” Peter smiled at her. “Honey, you realize what that means, don't you?”

Mac thought about it. Alex's hand cupped her shoulder, his thumb stroking her skin gently. Patiently. She began to see what Peter was driving at. Dickerson didn't have anything else he could throw at her. He'd already broadcast her past in the highest society and vet circles. “He can't do anything worse than what he's already done.”

“Very good.” Peter smiled. “I did a little checking. He has a nasty temper—one of the reasons that he's changed clinics several times—but apparently he just had an acrimonious divorce, and his wife made some very unflattering comments about him in public.”

Mac bit her lip, smothering a hysterical laugh. Perhaps insulting Dickerson's size and performance had been a bit unwise.

“So, knowing that, the next move is yours. You can cower in the house or simply go on. Your decision, honey.”

“He's a vet. I'm bound to run into him again,” Mac whispered.

“Probably so.”

Mac stared at her hands, the fingers infected with a fine trembling. He would undoubtedly denounce her again. But gossip being what it was, by that time, everyone would already know her past. He could yell…but people had yelled at her before. He could proposition…but she'd dealt with that before too. So yes, he'd done his worst, and she'd survived. Alex was not only still with her but loved her. I've done enough running and hiding . Her shoulders straightened. “I'm not going to cower.”