To Command and Collar [Masters of the Shadowlands 6] (21 page)

“You’re afraid of being outside—on the street side—by yourself?”
“I-I—” She pulled in a breath of salt air, turned away from him. The waves rolled onto the shore; clouds puffed high in the sky. Normal world.
Abnormal Kim
. Her voice came out so tiny, he leaned forward to hear her. “When I went out to the front, I just knew they were there. They’d take me back. It’s not safe outside.” Everything inside told her that was truth.
“The patio is all right though? And the beach?” he asked softly, still holding her hand.
“I…guess so. It’s got a fence. An ocean. No vehicles. They can’t get me there.” She blew a lock of hair away from her face. “It sounds stupid.”
“Kimberly, where did they kidnap you?”
She remembered all too well. Every month, she’d drive from Savannah to Atlanta to spend the day with her mom. Then she’d spend the evening at the BDSM club. The highlight of her month. “Outside a club. When I reached for the handle of my car, I—I… The man Tasered me.” Horrible pain, every muscle spasming, convulsing, screaming silently in agony. “They tossed me into a van.”
He stroked her hair. “Now you figured out why you panic, does it help?”
“A little.” Yet the thought of walking out a door again made her whole body tense in dread. She straightened her spine. “Try again?”
“Brave gatita.” Hand on her arm, he led her to the front door as if she were a blind woman. “Let’s see how far you can get.”
She forced her feet to step outside. A long drive. The street. Something squeezed her chest, and black wavered like ghosts around the edges of her vision.
“Kimberly!” The command in his voice was as effective as a vicious slap.
She jolted and looked over her shoulder.
“I’m here. Nothing is going to happen to you.” Fury came from him in waves, but it wasn’t directed at her. “Take three steps. Then we’ll go back in the house. Can you do that?”
She shook her head. Too far.
“Kimberly.” He met her eyes, raised his chin. “Do it—for me.”
For Master R. Her need to please warred with the fear. She eyed all the open space where she’d be exposed, the places someone could hide, and something tiny inside her quailed. Yet she took a step. Another. Her courage failed. She could only stand and shake.
“One more, gatita.”
Her air was gone, and red streaked the lawn as she pushed a foot forward. One more.
“Good. Eyes on me.” He was in front of her so quickly, she realized he’d been right behind her for each step. His face blocked the dangerous open lawn. “I’m very proud of you, Kimberly.”
His praise released the last few bands around her chest, and she hauled in a breath.
“Next time you’ll go four steps. In the meantime”—he held his hand out for hers—“we’ll get my toy bag out of the car. Together.”

* * * *

Three days of being friends wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. With a silent sigh, Kim watched the morning sun move across the bedroom carpet, her hand over the wide palm cupping her breast. Contentment was being held in Master R’s arms.

But…she wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t crawled into his bed in the middle of the night.

He’d made love to her. She grinned. She’d kinda started the process when she’d sneaked under the covers, run her hands up his thighs, and fondled his cock to hardness. At first, she’d thought he was asleep, but after a few minutes, she realized he’d been awake all along, waiting to discover how far she’d go.

Far
. Giggling, she’d climbed on top of him, and it had been fun. He’d kissed her and stroked her. Sucked her nipples. But he hadn’t taken control, hadn’t demanded anything from her. His hands had been gentle, not firm. They’d both gotten off, but… She sighed. The sex hadn’t been exciting at all. Kind of like piloting a motorboat instead of sailing in a strong wind. You’d get to your destination with the one; the other was sheer exhilaration.

I want that kind of sex back.

Master R was still asleep, one arm over her, spooned around her from behind. His morning erection pressed against her bottom. So…
They could have boring, we’re-just-friends sex, but she wanted more. How far could a girl push a master before he lost his temper?
He didn’t get angry easily. She bit her lip, unease quivering her nerves, and then rolled out of his arms. “No!” she snapped as his eyes opened. “No sex. You can’t make me, and I don’t want it.”
When his darkly tanned face turned stern, her stomach spawned wiggly minnows. But then he relaxed. “No, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want, Kimberly.” He put his hands behind his head, although his muscles were tight. “Go shower. I’ll stay out of your way.”
Dammit. After flipping her braid away, she poked his shoulder forcefully enough to hurt her finger. “You don’t tell me what to do,
Ra-oool
. I’m not your property anymore.” She’d expected the blaze in his eyes; she hadn’t anticipated her regret at verbalizing the fact.
I’m not his
. She poked him harder to make the sense of loss go away.
He grabbed her hand, preventing more abuse, and sat up. “That’s enough. Get out of the bed before I lose my patience with your rudeness.” His voice had lowered, and excitement shimmered deep inside her.
She felt her nipples bunching into peaks, saw his gaze drop to her breasts, and her anticipation increased at the flare of heat in his eyes. “Stop bossing me around.” She planted herself deliberately, kneeling with her butt on her feet. “I’m not going to do anything you say. Ever. Even if you beg me.”
“And what if you beg me?” he asked softly, the increasing Spanish accent an obvious clue to his temper. “If you stay in this bed, I will take you, Kimberly, the way I want, as rough as I want, unless you scream your safe word.”
His dark voice flipped a switch inside her, and she was suddenly very wet, her clit throbbing as if he’d stroked it with his tongue rather than his words.
But her mouth had gone dry at the threat in his voice. He would… He could hurt her. Only, she wanted that. Kind of. She took a breath. Besides, backing down would make her a coward. “Take me,
Ra-oool
? Pfft. You’re all talk and no—”
He grabbed her. She squeaked as he flattened her on her belly, her face on the mattress inches from the ornate ironwork of the headboard. She felt a pull on her hair. Tugging.
“That should keep you out of trouble.” He yanked her up, onto her hands and knees.
It was going too fast. Unable to help herself, she attempted to rear up and…couldn’t. She tried to lift her head, but her braid was caught on something. She stared at the mattress, three inches from her nose, and fumbled at the headboard, trying to find what he’d hooked her braid on.
His ruthless hands closed on her wrists and secured them one-handed at the hollow of her back.
“Damn you!” She struggled, totally helpless, her head caught, her hands caught. He shoved his knees between her legs, pushing her legs apart, exposing her. With his free hand, he explored her intimately and hummed in interest. “You’re puffy, gatita. And very wet.”
His fingers moved over her clit, so very assured, touching her in the way he knew turned her on. Although she kept fighting, the more she fought, the more her need grew. His chuckle showed he realized exactly what was going on—and his ability to read her so easily increased her arousal as well. Dammit.
He positioned his cock at her entrance and swirled it in her wetness. His grip on her wrists tightened, warning her. He plunged into her, all the way to the hilt.
Her body froze in shock, and she gasped as her pussy strained to accommodate the invasion.
Yes, yes, yes
. Pushing her forehead onto the mattress, she let him take her over.
He did. He took her, roughly as he’d promised, slamming into her, thick and hard and uncomfortably long.
Not satisfied, he released her hands and gripped her hips, angling her for greater penetration until he nudged her womb with every thrust. Yet the roughness and discomfort increased her arousal, pushing her toward climax in a way she’d never felt before. He wasn’t touching her clit, the stimulation only from his rigid erection. Everything inside her started to tighten, her entire lower half a fiery ball of nerves.
As he yanked her back onto his cock, over and over, her braid pulled at her scalp, reminding her she was restrained. Her hands fisted the covers as the pressure inside her grew. The air thickened until she cried out with each stroke, each demanding thrust wonderful, perfect, keeping her teetering right at the top.
And then he moved differently, his shaft circling her entrance, making her folds tug on her clit. The fire inside contracted into a whirlpool, blasting a tsunami of sheer sensation over her sea walls, flattening everything in front of it until an ocean of pleasure streamed to every far nerve. The room echoed back her scream, then her gasps for air.
He somehow hardened, thickened even more. Short, brutal thrusts sent more waves through her, and then he pressed, deep, deep, and the spasms of his cock made her insides clench over and over around him
His grip on her hips released—she’d have bruises there tomorrow, and she didn’t mind in the least. No—she gloried in the thought of his marks on her. Every nerve in her body was singing, and satisfaction flowed with each beat of her pulse. And happiness. More than from her climax, but caused by the feel of his hands, demanding, controlling, merciless. Dammit, why?
She’d been dominated before; he gave her…more. Or she surrendered more. Anxiety rippled through her. How much would she surrender to him?
He ran his hands down her sides in long strokes, reached under to fondle her breasts, and chuckled when her vagina spasmed around him. When he finally pulled out, she moaned at the loss. Without speaking, he flattened her on the bed again to unhook her braid, then rolled her onto her back like a puppy.
Throat exposed, belly up. At his mercy. Her anxiety increased as she realized annoyance still tightened his jaw.
“Is this what they call friends with benefits?” he asked, holding her chin.
She felt her face heat and closed her eyes.
“Look at me,” he growled.
Her gaze met his, and she couldn’t escape from the anger in his eyes. She swallowed.
“If you wish rough sex or D/s sex, then tell me. I took you hard this time, so we could both discover your response.” His gaze softened, his thumb stroking over her lower lip. “There’s no question as to how you respond. You think about it and what you want.”
He swung off the bed and turned, his expression dangerous. “And then you will talk to me honestly and openly.”
Dammit.

* * * *

That afternoon, Raoul pushed back from his desk, rubbing his exhausted eyes. If he was going to continue designing at home, he needed a bigger screen.
On the left, Kimberly worked her way through the stacks of filing he’d accumulated. He hated paperwork. Normally, he’d summon his secretary to do the tedious business. But for now, it kept Kimberly occupied.
My
friend
, Kimberly
. Smiling slightly, he watched her examine a paper and put it into a folder. Even lacking any power exchange, he liked having her in his house.
After she’d crawled into his bed last night, he’d discovered he still enjoyed making love to her. Then again, he was a man. Was fucking ever bad? Yes, the
normal
sex with Kimberly had been pleasant, although lacking any rich flavor or bite, as if someone had made tacos without adding cayenne or cumin.
She’d also felt the lack. He grinned, remembering how she’d goaded him, trying to make him lose his temper. He hadn’t—barely—although he’d given her the roughness and control that she needed. She’d come like a dream.
He shook his head. It was amazing she tolerated sex at all after her experiences, let alone with a man dominating her. Would she admit she wanted his control in the bedroom? Could she be that honest with herself—and him?
For a minute, he simply studied her. Pretty gatita, her black, shiny hair loose over her shoulders, her curvy ass filling her shorts nicely, reminding him of the feel of her soft hips under his hands. His eyes narrowed as he looked more intently.
Pretty…but not happy. The quiet content she’d shown in the weeks prior to the Shadowlands had eroded away over the past three days. Her body now lacked…grace…as if she were no longer comfortable with herself. Tension simmered under her jerky movements and tensed muscles.
Yet she wasn’t looking around nervously. He opened and shut a drawer loudly—no jumpiness. Not fear then.
He rested his elbow on the desk and leaned back in his chair, thinking. Serving her dom and others filled a need in her—whether she admitted it or not—but she was also more comfortable when she had rules. Boundaries. Consistency. Apparently, her erratic father had been loving, then not—stern when sober, nasty when drunk. She’d never known what to expect from minute to minute. Rules probably felt…safe.
When she’d requested that they be friends, she’d not only lost his domination, but the consistency that came with it.
She glanced over her shoulder, and his eyes met hers. He held her gaze, looking for—
Dios, stop it, Sandoval
. He turned away, disgusted with himself. Her need called to his, but she had said no.
No meant no.
However, she wasn’t happy or at peace, and he wasn’t sure how to fix that. Not as
friends
. Hopefully, she’d discuss the problem with Gabi or Faith, but knowing Kim, she’d probably avoid discussions on dominance and submission.
He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.
She was kneeling at his feet, head down, nape beautifully exposed.
Begging for a collar. No, stop dreaming.
“You don’t have to kneel to talk to me, Kimberly,” he said. “We’re friends, are we not?”
“Yes. Kind of.” Rather than her hands resting open on her thighs, her fingers were laced and white-knuckled in front of her. “I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but being friends isn’t working for me.”
Well, apparently she was learning how to share her emotions. He smiled ruefully, then bent and tilted her chin up. “Do you have a request?” He winced, wanting to punch himself. Even when he told himself not to, he couldn’t speak or touch without dominating someone, especially this little one.
“Can we go back to the way we were?”
He stiffened. “What way, gatita? Explain more clearly.”
“I want…want to be your submissive again, like before. Until the FBI lets me go home or to Gabi’s.” Her blue eyes were earnest, without any apparent reservations.
The rising pleasure warred with his sinking feeling of dismay. How much more agonizing would it be to see her leave after she’d been his
willing
submissive? “Why?”
“I… It’s silly, but I can’t settle. It’s like when I know I’m doing what you want, I relax and let you do the worrying. I can concentrate on the one thing you’ve told me to do.” She shrugged. “I’m sure I’m just stressed over the past stuff and with not knowing what’s going to happen. But…” She huffed out an unhappy breath. “I liked it better when you were in charge.”