Masters of the Shadowlands 8 - If only Page 14

  But, oh God, what would it be like with these two? They were so…different, always so careful. They treated her like something—someone—special.

  And yet, even as they cared for her, they took what they desired. And she wanted that sense of being overpowered, mentally and physically. Needed it.

  A tremor ran through her as Vance’s cock slid in and out of her pussy, slow and inexorable.

  His strong hand clasped her right buttock, pulling it apart so…

  She squirmed as his thick finger circled her anus, penetrating slightly before withdrawing. Every time his cock pulled back, Vance pushed in his finger, slowly but surely working his way deeper.

  Nerve after nerve flared awake, like birthday-cake candles being lit until the entire region was flaming brightly.

  “There we go, sweetheart. No more today,” he said, caressing her bottom, his cock deep inside her. Filling her. “I hope you enjoy anal plugs, because you’ll be wearing one every day until you can take me.”

  A shudder shook her—and she wasn’t sure if it was from fear or anticipation.

  He laughed, and his hand moved to take her right hip in a tight, ruthless grip. “Ready?”

  No!

  A moan escaped her as he set up a mind-blowing rhythm by alternately impaling her anus with his finger and her pussy with his cock. The effect confused her senses as her body responded, pressure inside growing in an undeniable way. Her breathing turned to fast panting as she knew—knew—she was going to come again. His thrusts grew more powerful, sweeping her before them, pushing her up a mountain. Pinning her on the edge of a precipice over an abyss.

  Her ass tilted up, begging for more, for one more, one more.

  “All right, sweetie,” he murmured. As he slammed into her with his cock, her insides clenched around him, and this time, he didn’t withdraw. Instead, he pushed his finger deep, deep into her back hole, filling her completely. Throwing her off the cliff.

  “Oh, oh, oh.” The sparkling nerves erupted with the fury of a wildfire, taking over her body, making her buck and cry out. The sensations ripped through her, the pleasure almost unbearable. She gripped the legs of the stool as she mewed and shook, unable to escape from his grip, his impaling finger, his cock.

  She heard him laugh, echoed by Galen, and then he powered into her as he sought his own satisfaction. He felt even bigger. Huge. As she still shook from the strength of her orgasm, he pressed deep and groaned as he came.

  And oh God, she loved that feeling, the knowledge that she, Sally, had given him that pleasure.

  Chapter Eight

  The nice thing about dirt roads in the Catskills was he could easily tell if someone was following him. Drew Somerfeld stopped on a rise, got out of his vehicle, and checked his back trail. The dirt hanging in the air was from the tires. The soughing wind ruffled the spruce and fir forest; a creek gurgled over rocks. All quiet—aside from the whimpering of the woman in the trunk. She must have been wakened by the bumpy road.

  He slapped the metal to shut her up and climbed back into his car.

  A half hour later, he pulled to a stop in front of the isolated cabin he’d bought for his twin. Best decision he’d ever made. His brother couldn’t cope with civilization, but he functioned fine if interactions were kept to only one or two people. No noise, no distractions.

  In the turmoil of a city—or mental institution—Ellis couldn’t cope. Here, he did very well, with an occasional outing to satisfy his obsession.

  Drew’s lips curled. He’d been quite clever to turn Ellis into the Association’s private executioner.

  On the rough excuse for a porch, his brother rose from the ugly chair he insisted on carting around wherever he went. Burn marks covered the chair’s wooden arms.

  Hell, his brother was no prettier. White burn scars marred Ellis’s left cheek and jaw, and his eyelid was puckered, pulled askew, giving him a monster-like appearance. Mesmerized at watching their father die in the fire, Ellis had stayed too long. Almost died under the collapsing roof.

  Before the fire, he’d been as handsome as Drew. He’d never been as stable though.

  Drew had been born first. Their mother always said Drew was greedier, blaming him as if an unborn child could have decided something like that. But the fact was Ellis had been deprived of oxygen, and he just wasn’t as…bright. Or balanced. Something in his brain was off.

  But Drew saw to it that he never lacked for anything. Who knows, maybe he owed his twin that.

  AS HIS BROTHER got out of his car, Ellis grinned, expectation rising inside him. Had Drew brought a replacement slave?

  The job on Tillman had been fun. Ellis had done exactly what his twin wanted, and enjoyed every minute. Especially killing his former slut in front of Tillman, seeing the cop’s helpless fury. Afterward, he’d burned the house to ashes around the lawman and his wife—and hey, he’d even added Tillman’s mother-in-law to the mix. Fun times.

  But hauling the slave’s body back out to the car had been an effort. Might have strained his back. Drew’s fucking hired gun hadn’t helped at all, said his job was to guard, not to carry.

  But Ellis had followed the rules since his twin was fussy about the body count being right. And once he’d gotten the body into the car, it hadn’t been that difficult to dispose of her in a deep body of water. The fish had to eat too.

  Heh. Clever Drew. He’d been the one to realize they could use a bloody, terrified slave to gain entrance to a target’s house.

  And Ellis did enjoy making sure each woman was bleeding like a stuck pig. Even gave each one a broken bone or two to ensure they were really crying. Begging to get in.

  The door to the house always opened right up. The woman would go through, and Ellis would follow right after. Definitely fun times.

  But Drew had decreed no witnesses, so each fire meant he’d lose that slave.

  Drew always brought him a replacement. Had he this time?

  “Do you have something for me?” He couldn’t help hurrying forward. New slaves were always fun.

  Drew grinned and opened the trunk, yanking out a young blonde woman. Blindfolded, handcuffed, wearing leg shackles. “One pretty treat for you, Ell.”

  Oh yeah, indeedy yeah. “I like the blonde ones.”

  “But you gotta make her last this time. The Feds are getting too close, so I’m shutting down a lot of the services.”

  “Right.” Ellis scowled. That meant he wouldn’t be burning anyone for a while either. “I only killed one by accident.”

  “True. You’ve done well.” Drew patted his arm. “And you did a fine job with the Tillman fire.”

  * * * *

  In a spacious Orlando hotel ballroom, Galen moved through the crowd of celebrating graduates and their friends and families. The music from the orchestra was soft, allowing people the option of dancing or being able to hold a conversation. At one end of the room was a buffet table. A well-stocked bar had been set up in another section, and Vance had headed there to procure drinks.

  Galen turned slowly in a circle. His task was to spot a curvy, long-haired brunette in the midst of all these people. A short woman. No longer limping—unlike him—since her ankle had mended nicely in the four days since the asshole’s attack. But since she knew her ankle was weakened, she’d chosen to wear flats rather than heels. Smart woman.

  He liked that about her. Liked her.

  She was still in their home, and he had gotten far too accustomed to her sprawling over him in the night. When she curled next to Vance, her round ass snuggled against Galen’s groin. She had the prettiest heart-shaped ass he’d ever seen.

  And the most tempting. Each day he had increased the girth of the anal plug she wore. She was ready for them now, and he looked forward to seeing her come undone. The sweet little imp gave of herself more generously than any woman he’d ever known.

  Finally, he saw her, speaking to a man near the linen-covered tables of food. Although she looked gorgeous in a flame-red gown, the glowing pl
easure she’d shown during the ceremony was gone, leaving her face pinched and unhappy. Who the hell was she talking to? Someone from her family?

  Galen detoured so he could approach from behind Sally. Study the situation before butting in. Although masculinized, the man’s pointed chin, thin nose, and wide forehead were very similar to Sally’s. Family, all right. This must be the pet-hating father. Galen already disliked him.

  “So you’ve finally graduated,” the man was saying to Sally. “You going to get a real job now?”

  Galen stopped. That sure wasn’t a loving tone of voice. Or a proud one.

  “I’ve always held down a job, Father, starting at twelve,” Sally said, her voice stiff.

  “And spent your money on clothes. You’d think you would have learned what was important after you got your mother killed,” the older man said, bitterness in every word.

  Christ, what kind of fucked-up shit is this? When Sally flinched at the cruel words, Galen’s hand curled into a fist.

  Sally pulled in a shaky breath before straightening her shoulders. How many times had Galen seen her do that? She was so fucking brave.

  “Well, thank you for coming, Father,” she said politely. “It was nice to have family present.”

  Protectiveness welled in Galen’s heart. He was used to physically shielding his women; looked like this one he’d need to protect emotionally, as well. “There you are,” he said, raising his voice. He stepped up behind her and curved his arm around her waist, feeling the tension in her small body, seeing the guardedness in her eyes. In meth houses, he’d seen children with such eyes.

  But he had years of dealing with assholes, so he smiled and prompted her. “And who is this?”

  “Um. Right. Father, this is Galen Kouros with the FBI. Galen, this is my father, Hugh Hart.”

  Had to say, Hart seemed to be sorely lacking any heart. “Good to meet you.” Sally has nothing but bad things to say about you. He stuck his hand out, ignoring the reluctance the father displayed. The man had the same velvet-brown eyes as Sally, but the lines around his downturned mouth showed a sour personality. His skin was leathery, his build muscular, his hands thick with calluses. She’d spoken of cats in a barn…and she was from Iowa. Probably a farmer.

  “FBI?” Hart’s gaze was assessing. “Are you her boyfriend or did you come to arrest her?”

  “Boyfriend,” Galen said. Lover. Dom. He was tempted to go on the attack. There were certain people a man wanted to step on as simply a gift to humanity. Something like squashing a cockroach. But this wasn’t the time. Her father. Graduation. Be polite, Kouros. “You must be quite proud of your daughter. She’s done very well.” God knows, I’m proud of her.

  “Ah-huh.”

  The enthusiasm was underwhelming. Why the hell was this bastard here? “Long way to travel.”

  “It was.” The father pulled a camera from his suit-coat pocket. “I need pictures. People in town want to see them.”

  Sally posed, her smile so fake that Galen’s gut twisted. Hart started snapping pictures, and after a couple, Galen stepped between them. “That’s enough.” Enough of this bullshit. Enough of messing with your daughter’s emotions.

  The man glared and pocketed the camera. “Guess that’s good enough.”

  “Tell everyone hi for me.” She glanced up at Galen. “You’d like the people there. Iowans are just plain nice.”

  Knowing Sally, he might agree with that…if he hadn’t met her father.

  The old guy frowned at Sally. “Now you’re finished with school, come by and get the rest of your junk.”

  “Uh. Sure. Is there any hurry?”

  “Not particularly.”

  Which meant the father just wanted Sally’s stuff gone. Galen could feel the girl absorb that blow.

  “All right. As soon as I get a permanent address, I’ll do that.” She gave her father an obviously forced smile.

  “See that you do.”

  Couldn’t punch an old man for being an asshole…could he? Couldn’t slaughter him verbally—Sally might not like that.

  “Excuse me.” Vance took Sally’s other side. “I brought you a drink, sweetheart.”

  AS SALLY TOOK the glass, she realized the men were doing their guard-dog maneuver again, taking up positions on each side of her. Her overprotective warriors.

  From the look on Galen’s face, he was seriously pissed off at her father.

  With good reason. Why had she ever sent her father an invitation? When would she learn that nothing she did would please him? But no matter how much she tried to tell herself that, it never stuck. She kept trying.

  Galen’s arm was rigid around her back. “Excuse us, Hart, but we have places to go, people to see. And you can just—”

  Before he could finish, a group of her classmates descended on her. In the flurry of congratulations and introductions—and admiring stares at the Feds—she regained her composure. And wasn’t it fun to show them off, because jeez, they looked gorgeous in their tailored suits. Galen in the darkest of grays, Vance in a steel gray with a hint of blue. She could see the women wondering which man Sally was with.

  Hands off—they’re both mine. Then she shook her head. Delusional much, Sally?

  As the crowd thinned again, she turned back to her father. “Well, I know you have to go,” she said. “Thank you for coming.”

  Her father opened his mouth to say something, undoubtedly cruel, and halted at the sound of a happy scream.

  Jessica?

  A second later, the blonde tugged her away from Galen, and Sally was engulfed in people, congratulations and handshakes and hugs. Master Cullen’s enthusiastic squeeze actually lifted her off her feet. As he set her down, she stared around her in wonder. It looked as if all the Masters and Mistresses—and their submissives—had come all the way to Orlando.

  At the edge of the group, her father glared at her before walking away. Her chest hurt, her heart echoing with the emptiness there.

  “Not worth being miserable over,” Galen whispered in her ear. “You have people who care about you. Love you.”

  So it seemed. The flood of calls and texts and visits after Frank’s attack had astonished her. Made her cry. And now…not just her subbie friends were here, but the Dominants as well. She smiled at them all, then frowned. “I thought I quit the club.”

  “You were mistaken.” When Master Z turned to her, Galen surrendered his place. The owner of the Shadowlands cupped her chin and studied her face. His gaze fastened on the bruise she’d thought she covered so well, and his mouth went hard.

  “Mistaken?” she asked quickly.

  “You are no longer a trainee,” he said quietly. “Not while you’re with Galen and Vance. But you will always be a member of the Shadowlands, Sally.”

  Oh God, she was going to cry after all.

  His thumb stroked her cheek; then with a faint smile, he gave her to Vance.

  She looked at the Fed with blurry eyes, and he gently pressed her head against his shoulder, holding her firmly against him. “Go ahead, sweetie; let it out.”

  A couple of choked sobs escaped her before she pulled it together. Party. Friends. She didn’t have time to have a wussy breakdown. As she pulled back, Vance accepted a tissue from Gabi to blot her tears and undoubtedly the running mascara.

  “Nice job, stud.” Mistress Olivia grinned at him. “You learn that from making your subbies cry?”

  “I practiced on my little sisters.” He winked at Sally and finished, “I perfected the technique from making subbies cry.”

  Galen handed her drink back, his dark eyes studying her. She stiffened, expecting him to grill her about her father, but he shook his head. “Relax, pet. Enjoy your party.”

  Oh boy. She’d be in for an interrogation later. Bloody, fucking hell. But for now, she’d take Master Fed’s advice and enjoy herself. She’d finally graduated and had friends with whom to celebrate. Her mood brightened as if she’d emerged from a cave into crisp morning sunlight.

&n
bsp; She held up her glass to them. “Thank you all for coming.” Her first sip was great. The second…familiar. “This is a Screaming Orgasm!”

  Vance’s lips quirked. “We heard you have a fondness for them. But since we might want to play with you later, two is your limit.”

  “Pffft.” Sally turned to the other Shadowkittens. “What kind of a limp-dick loser tells his girl, only two orgasms?”

  Her girlfriends busted out laughing.

  And under the joking, she heard Galen’s amused mutter, “The brat is back.” Before she could comment, he told her in a low voice, “We’re serious, pet. Only two drinks.”

  Good luck with that, boys.

  To Sally’s delight, the Shadowlands crew stayed, mingling with the grads and their families. Lawyer Marcus, fire inspector Cullen, bounty hunter Anne, and the Feds hooked up with the professors with law-enforcement backgrounds. Their voices stayed low as opposed to the more raucous group containing Linda, who owned a beach shop, Jessica an accounting business, Beth landscaping, Andrea cleaning and some of the grads’ mothers who also ran their own businesses. Apparently taxes could bring out the worst in a woman.

  Z, Gabi, and one of the forensics professors were discussing serial killers, causing a quick retreat. Surely there were less disgusting conversations somewhere.

  Having heard Sally’s feelings about blood and death, Gabi gave her a wink.

  Moving from group to group, Sally finished her first drink and got another. The second tasted fully as nice as the first. She spotted Kari coming across the room.

  “Don’t you look wonderful?” Kari beamed at her. “Sorry for bringing up the rear, but I got stuck talking to my mom on the phone. Zane’s giving her trouble. Oh, and Rainie and Uzuri called to say that they were stuck working late today, but to give you hugs from them,” Kari said, putting action to words. “I’m so happy you’ve graduated.”

  “Me too.” Sally rolled her eyes. “Even though I didn’t have classes at UCF every day, the commute from Tampa was killing me.”