Switch Master: 6 (Ink and Kink) (33 page)

“I hope so.”

“Brave little sub, I love you,” he pronounced, his heat and
breath warming her up as he leaned inward and kissed the palm and paddle marks
he’d left behind.

Taran’s kisses melted into licks straight to the part of her
that had yet to take his cock. With his tongue, he warmed and dampened her
asshole, stroking in and out of her, setting her on fire with need. Feeling
wanton, desired, she keened and cried out, offering herself, grateful for the
chains keeping her standing.

Withdrawing his tongue, he inserted his finger, causing her
to jump when she discovered it was slickened with lubricant.

“Thank you for thinking of my comfort, Master,” she said,
hoping he understood the question. “But when did you get the lubricant?”

“Lube and a condom are a must-have when we have anal sex,
doll. I brought them both with me from across the room.”

“Oh that’s good.” The lube felt good too. She’d have
expected it to be cold, but it had a warming affect, likely because he’d rubbed
it in his hot hands.

“It’ll be good, Samantha.”

“Make it so, pretty boy. I want to come.”

“Then so you shall,” he promised, continuing to work the
lube into her, opening her up, stretching her for something a whole lot bigger
than his fingers.

At last, he stood up, moving in behind her. He still wore
his suit. The fineness of the fabric tickled her bare skin, making what was
about to take place that much more forbidden and deliciously wicked.

Taran murmured into her ear, aligning against her back. One
of his hands anchored itself to her hip, holding her as his other wrapped
around her, smoothing its way to her clit.

Stroking her pleasure-filled nub, he kept her on edge,
rubbing his condom-covered cock all along her backside, lower back and butt
cheeks. The smoothness of his suit pants combined with the thickness of his
penis set her teeth on edge, it felt that good.

Just as she begged for more, he released her bindings.
Shocked, she would have asked why but Taran put her on all fours, resuming his
place behind her.

“I don’t want this to hurt you, baby doll. This will go
better doggie style the first time. One inch at a time, okay? If it hurts too
much, stop me.”

“I won’t stop you.”

Taran kissed her bare shoulder, taking a harsh bite to keep
her trapped in place. Then she felt the latex-lubricated head of his cock brush
her ass, entering, pushing slowly through the burn, awakening her to a dark
pleasure she’d only ever permit with Taran Maddox.

Much, much later, after they came in a volcanic rush, Taran
took Sam downstairs, ran a hot bath and they soaked together until her
never-before-used muscles and body parts were no longer yelling at her in
protest.

She was fairly certain she’d still be aching in the morning,
but that was okay. There was nothing she wasn’t willing to do with him,
nothing. The soreness meant they’d had hot, raunchy sex and she was rapidly
getting addicted to the raunchy.

Admittedly though, the next time they had sex, she hoped
they’d do it the old-fashioned way, skin against skin, face-to-face, kissing as
they came.

After they finished bathing and brushed their teeth, they
went to bed. It took only a few kisses before they aroused each other and made
love, resting and talking until passion ignited anew.

Roller Emporium—Framingham, Massachusetts

Sam couldn’t believe a month had passed since she learned
her daughter was alive and living in Arizona.

It’d been a month since she’d spoken to her landlord in
Framingham and moved into the Maddox brownstone the following day. A month
spent helping Morgan and Ethan pack while she and Taran consulted contractors
and they were currently trying to choose the best redesignto turn his bedroom suite into two rooms suitable for teenagers.

Not to her surprise, Taran remained devoted to her. In the
bedroom, he was dominant and loving and so much more than she’d ever hoped she
would find in a lover.

The Monday after she’d read Mark’s letter, she and Taran had
contacted Colin and Fay O’Neal, hoping to get their approval to meet Abigail.
They were initially skeptical, as they’d always believed Abigail’s biological
mother had died soon after she’d given birth.

To prove her identity, Sam offered to submit a DNA test and
offered reassurances to the O’Neal family that she was really Abigail’s
biological mother but had no intention of separating Abigail from those who’d
loved and raised her.

She didn’t want to pressure Fay and Colin O’Neal or make it
seem as if she would attempt to take Abigail away from them or interfere in her
college education. All she wanted was to get to know her daughter and offer
support if Abigail should need it.

During his investigation into the medical malpractice suit
that had been launched against Dr. Solomon, his fertility clinic and the
women’s clinic, Taran learned that ten women had come forward to testify
against the doctor, each a victim.

Sadly, Solomon’s death complicated the lawsuit, as he’d
destroyed medical records and some of the victims had given up and some had
taken a lump settlement. Curiously, about a year ago, another suit had been
launched against the doctor’s practices and Manhattan General by Mark Cormack
on behalf of six women who’d initially given up.

As the last four weeks flashed through her mind, Sam
wondered at the good things that had come, preferring to concentrate on the
future than the past. Luke Walker had gotten a work permit and now worked
twenty hours a week at Maddox Ink, cleaning up around the place and designing
tattoos.

He, Taran and Sam were growing closer, especially after
Taran worked his lawyer’s magic, along with being armed with the information
Ethan Maddox found about Daria Walker’s extracurricular activities at the spa, and
successfully petitioned a judge to deny her attempts to seek unsupervised
visitation, much less custody.

Once Luke felt certain Daria wasn’t going to be part of his
life, he opened up to Taran and Sam, admitting that one of Daria’s
acquaintances had visited their home the same afternoon that the meth lab
exploded.

With Daria’s encouragement, the so-called acquaintance
cornered Luke in his bedroom. Luke fought the man off, escaping to his friend’s
house. He’d felt guilty for leaving his sisters, but he’d feared what would
happen if he returned while that man was still there.

Taran assured Luke that he’d done the right thing, and
suggested he talk to a professional. Luke still resented his father and Daria,
for that Sam didn’t blame him.

Russell Walker’s attempt to appeal his case was put on hold
indefinitely. Taran suspected the lack of funds influenced Harcourt to drop an
almost unwinnable case.

In the meantime, Taran began the first steps in terminating
Russell’s parental rights so that Luke could eventually become legally adopted
by his aunt. Taran had also become the teen’s Big Brother and the two went to
movies or to the roller rink to watch roller derby practices and share pizza in
the refreshment stand.

Glenda Davis was thoroughly onboard with the mentorship,
especially as she was able to work for Taran and witnessed firsthand how well
he and Luke got along.

Surprisingly, Taran’s godfather had visited two weeks ago
and met Glenda. Sam had it from good authority, namely Luke, that Glenda had a
crush on Uncle Bill.

Roller derby brought her back to the present. Tonight, the
Ashford Amazons were visiting the Framingham Femme Fatales for opening night of
the New England Roller Derby’s spring season. The league was still in
negotiations to expand into a fall season.

As it was, she was currently looking at a heavily made-up
version of herself in a mirror. The badass pivot of the Femme Fatales, Slam Bam
Sam, stared back. While she’d put on elbow pads, knee pads and a helmet for
protection, she was rocking the derby babe look.

Her hair, recently retouched by her colorist, had been
trimmed so that it looked more feminine and pretty, falling loosely to her
shoulders. Her green eyes popped with help from eye shadow, mascara and dark
eyeliner. Her lips were blood red and smoking hot.

She wore a black leather mini-skirt, black fishnets and a
black team jersey. On the back of her jersey was her number and derby name,
Slam Bam Sam.

Looking into the mirror again, she smiled. Makeup enhanced
her features, sure, yet it was love that put the spark in her eyes and made her
skin more radiant. Love for Taran, not to mention the continued lessons they
shared in their bedroom or dungeon.

Recently, they’d attended a weekend-long munch together. As
she’d done previously, she sat in on a whip and flogger session with Phalen.
He’d demonstrated the use of everything from a simple snake-like whip to
multitailed floggers and a bullwhip. She’d tried out all of them but found the
floggers were her favorite.

Following the whip workshop, she and Taran became immersed
in the beauty and eroticism of Shibari bondage. It had been extraordinarily
riveting to watch Doc in action. More so, watching the way Alex trusted his
husband to tie him up so beautifully that he’d looked like a god suspended from
the heavens.

Sam was eager to witness Taran bound as Alex had been. The
truth was, she was eager to try a lot of things with him, especially the box of
anal sex toys and harness she’d purchased secretly to surprise him. The problem
there was that the purchases hadn’t arrived yet.

She’d have to call tomorrow to find out why. For now, she
had a derby bout.

All around her, her fellow Fatales were busy putting on
makeup or adding their personal touches to the costumes. Teri and Bella had
designed them, encouraging the Fatales to look mean and badass in a lot of
black and leather. Even their roller skates were black.

Beyond the makeshift dressing room in the back of the roller
rink where skateboarders usually congregated, current rock music was being
played. When the derby began, there was a local DJ who’d keep the crowd
entertained by doing a play-by-play.

Some of the music he’d chosen was electro-punk, which Sam
thought sounded badass. Each Fatale had their own song to incite the crowd when
they blocked, scored or made a move. Her music was
Brick House
.

“Hey, Slam Bam, you got a visitor,” Teri called out.

Sam looked up and around. Teri had an enormous bouquet of
flowers in her hand.

“If it’s Taran, tell my pretty boy to get his fabulous ass
in here.”

“Definitely not Taran,” Teri said. “Hon, this guy’s old
enough to be your dad.”

Sam felt the blood drain from her face. “No, it can’t be.”

“Want me to take these back?”

“Oh no, that means he’s here because…tell him to come in.
Can you find Taran for me?”

“Sure thing,” she promised, setting the flowers on Sam’s
makeup table before heading out of the dressing room.

Most of her teammates were busy at their makeup stations,
talking and going over plays. The moment Martin Cormack walked in, their
collective heads turned, mouths popped open. Martin was silver-haired,
distinctly handsome and robust, resembling an old-time movie star.

“Mr. Cormack,” Sam said, somehow finding her voice. “Thank
you for the flowers.”

“You’re very welcome,” Martin replied, attempting a smile
that was forced.

“Are you here because of Mark? Has he passed away?”

Martin looked at her, really looked at her, the sadness in
his green eyes, eyes she’d never noticed were very much like hers, told the
story. “Yes, three days ago. I’ve come from his wake.”

Despite everything and what Martin put her mother through,
Sam couldn’t rage at him. She tried to keep her composure as she stood and
approached him. It felt as if she’d time traveled back to the first time she’d
met him. She’d been gangly, awkward, nerdy, hardly the woman she was now.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr. Cormack, truly. Please
give my condolences to your family.”

“I will, thank you. Samantha, you’re shaking as if you’re
expecting me to turn into a monster. If it’s best that I go, I will, but please
hear me out first.”

“Why now?” she asked, wishing she hadn’t sounded spiteful.
He was suffering and lost his son. It wasn’t right.

“Because I’m your father and I’ve a lifetime of regrets to
make up for,” he admitted, causing a stir within her teammates. “If you all
will excuse us, I’d like to speak to my daughter privately.”

“You’re going to have to speak to her with me present,”
Taran announced, rushing into the dressing room to stand at her side.

Martin’s eyes went to Taran, scanning him, assessing his
worthiness. The Fatales politely left, though their curiosity was obvious. She
was pretty certain her teammates would be pressing their ears to the curtains
to find out what was going on.

“You must be Samantha’s beau, Taran Maddox,” Martin stated.

“Yes I am.” Taran tucked his hand around Sam’s waist,
protecting her. “What do you want from Samantha?”

“Nothing material, a chance, a beginning, perhaps,” Martin
answered.

“I’m not sure I’m able to give you that,” Samantha admitted,
deciding on speaking her mind. “All my life I thought I’d done something to
make my father not want me, instead he, you, broke my mom’s heart. For that
alone, you’re lucky I don’t kick your ass out of here.”

“You are as feisty as your mother was back in the day,”
Martin remarked, his eyes on her now. “You’re also as beautiful.”

“Attempting to gain brownie points won’t help your cause.
Again, I am sorry about Mark. It must be very difficult for his wife and
children.”

“They’re coping. Although, with the wake and funeral and
all, they haven’t had time to absorb that he’s gone.”

Sam’s throat tightened, tears threatening. She didn’t hate
Mark anymore, and she certainly didn’t wish for something like this to happen
to him.

“No matter our past, I pray Mark is at peace now. If that’s
what you came to say, you should go.”

Martin reached into his pocket, pulling out a large, thick
envelope similar to the legal envelopes she’d seen in Taran’s office.

“I had plenty to say when I walked in. Now I’m all tongue
tied,” he confessed, continuously turning the envelope over and over in his
hands.

“You might want to make it quick then,” Sam warned. “I fear
you could get in trouble if your wife finds out you’re visiting with me.”

“I signed the papers the day Mark called to tell me his
cancer had returned and he wasn’t going to continue treatments,” Martin rushed
in.

“Papers?” Sam repeated.

“Divorce papers. Barbara and I have been separated ever
since I found out what she’d done to you, my granddaughter and to Mark.”

“You’re only now coming forward about that? Did you really
think she wouldn’t know about your affair with my mother…about me?”

“I love your mother. I love you. I always have.”

“Suddenly acknowledging you’re my father won’t change what
your wife did to me and
my child.
I’m sure you mean well by coming here,
Mr. Cormack, I just don’t know how I should feel right now.”

“You need time, I respect that.” Martin shook his head. “For
what it’s worth, Mark pressed charges against my ex-wife and she pled guilty.
She’s now serving time under house arrest.”

Sam wasn’t certain what to say to that. “I see. I’m sorry
for the way things turned out. I really am.”

Martin closed his eyes, bowing his head a little. He opened
them again, offering her the envelope in his hands.

“This is from Mark. I’ve been named the executor of his
estate and he asked that I give this to you personally.”

“Thank you. Is there anything else?” Sam said, accepting the
envelope.

“Yes. I can’t bury my head in the sand anymore. You are my
daughter. Is it too late to get to know you?” he asked, his eyes pleading with
her.

“How am I to know if you’re sincere?” she replied, trying
not to shake. “I want to, but if I give in, are you going to hurt my mother
again? Are you going to flex your expensive bank account and make demands?”

“No, I was hoping we’d start with coffee. Just that,
Samantha, nothing more,” Martin answered, sounding earnest.

“And my mom, will you make things right with her?”

He frowned, looking defeated. “I’ll certainly apologize, but
I’m not sure I deserve her forgiveness. First things first, read through the
documents Mark sent to you. He made sure you were compensated for your pain and
suffering.”

“Go ahead, honey,” Taran urged.

“Read with me?” she asked him. He didn’t have to nod or say
yes, he simply stayed close, his hand at her back.

Sam opened the envelope and withdrew the contents inside.
Reading through the pages, she discovered two flight vouchers for a charter jet
to Arizona, an itinerary and accommodations at a first-class hotel in Phoenix.

“Mark arranged for the two of us to go see Abigail, there’s
a flight and a hotel room on hold for us,” she revealed, delighted and
grateful. “Apparently he reached out to the O’Neal family shortly before he
passed away.”

“All you need to do is call the number on the voucher to
schedule the flight,” Martin told them. “The same goes for the hotel. Mark
wanted you to be the one to visit Abigail and present her with the inheritance
he’d set aside for her. Go on, read everything.”