Protecting His Own (Masters of the Shadowlands Book 11) Read online

  “A spanking? Now?” She shoved against his hold, and his ruthless grip tightened.

  “Yeah. First, tell me why you earned punishment.”

  Punishment. Thoughts filtered through her head and, slowly, guilt filled her. “Because I didn’t tell you what was wrong.”

  “Bingo. Beth, how would you feel if I tried to keep problems from you? Basically lied to you by hiding my concerns and worries?”

  The question was like having cold water dumped over her. One of the reasons she loved him—trusted him—was because he always gave her the truth.

  She closed her eyes and summoned her courage before looking straight into his eyes. “I couldn’t stand if you hid your feelings. I’m sorry, Master. I was trying to protect myself and messed up what we have between us and let you down.” Her throat thickened, and she felt the flush that preceded tears. No. Don’t cry. Crying is cheating.

  His hard expression turned tender. He lifted the hand flattened on her sternum and gently fondled her breasts. “I’m sorry, too.” In his dark eyes, the undiminished resolve was as plain as the regret. “I’m going to hurt you. Hopefully, the pain will remind you next time you’re tempted to evade a question.”

  Oh. Damn. Her teeth gritted together. This wasn’t going to be a sexy, fun spanking, was it?

  With merciless hands, he pulled her down so her pelvis rested against his rock-hard thighs. His erection hadn’t diminished, and it pressed against her hip as he ran his hand over her bare ass. “Count for me, Beth.”

  The first slap hit with a mild sting. It would grow worse. Her Master rarely spanked her for punishment, but when he did, he showed no mercy. “One.”

  And then he spanked her—hard—his construction-work-toughened palm harder than any paddle. The blows alternated cheeks and sometimes hit the back of her thighs. By the fifteenth, she couldn’t speak through her crying, but he didn’t stop for another ten.

  “Done, sugar. It’s over.” Gathering her up, he settled with her on the grassy floor, stretching out on his back with her beside him. Holding her as she cried.

  After punishment came cuddles.

  Cheek against his shoulder, she inhaled his scent. His steely arms held her firmly, and gratitude filled her that she’d found her safe harbor in an uncertain world.

  When her sobbing had turned to sighs, he tilted her head up and studied her face. “No more burying your feelings,” he said softly.

  “No more.” Only… She hadn’t shared everything. “There’s something I’ve been fighting against.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Today, I was worried about being too skinny to make you happy. Partly. But…the rest was Alyssa.” God, she still felt petty for being jealous, but…fair was fair. If her Master were ever jealous, she’d want him to tell her. “I hate seeing her touch you. How she touches you.”

  “Ah. I get it.” He was silent for a minute. “And you didn’t like sharing how you felt.”

  He had no idea. When she rubbed her cheek on his broad chest, he stroked her hair, playing with the waves.

  “You had a reason for being upset, actually. She was getting…pushy.” At the tone in his voice, Beth looked up. His mouth had flattened. “She already knows she won’t be returning.”

  “Really?” She breathed out. Confessing had been much easier than she expected.

  “Yeah. Later, remind me to tell you about your li’l protectors.”

  Uh-oh. What had the boys done?

  He gave her a break to clean up in the tiny bathroom—which she badly needed—and when she returned, he was sitting with his back against one of the odd “boulders.”

  “Better.” Smiling, he made a twirling gesture with his index finger.

  Her face warmed with a telltale flush, and she turned—quickly—hoping to get it over.

  But at his low growl of enjoyment, she slowed. And when she looked over her shoulder, she saw his eyes were half-lidded, his hand fisting his erect cock, his gaze fixed on her ass.

  A bolt of lust sizzled up her spine. The way he openly showed his desire for her was so…exciting. As she dampened, the area between her legs tingled with arousal.

  “Come to me, li’l rabbit.” His voice was rough. “On your knees.”

  Avoiding the gray boulders, she crawled across the velvety fleece floor to him, her hair bouncing loose over her shoulders. When she stopped beside his hip, he motioned her to kneel up.

  His heated gaze burned over her face, her shoulders, her waist and returned to her breasts. “Still red. The other Doms touched you and left marks, but now those breasts are all mine, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, Master.” Her words were barely audible.

  “Yeah. Didn’t know how much it’d turn me on to watch.” He drew her closer. His lips closed over one nipple, and his tongue swirled around. Hot and wet. She was still so sensitive; the sensation expanded outward before zeroing straight to her pussy. He switched to the other breast, rolling the first nipple between his fingers, squeezing hard enough her toes curled. “Next time, maybe I’ll tie you to the bar and let them have another go.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You wouldn’t.”

  The amused glint in his eyes said he’d do whatever he wanted, and they both knew it.

  At least he wouldn’t tie her down there for the other Doms to punish. “So, am I forgiven now?” To her dismay, he didn’t immediately answer yes.

  “Hmm. Mostly. I’m still a tad bit angry and so”—his eyes glinted with a look she knew. One that made her shiver—“I’ll work out my anger on you. When I get off, you’ll be forgiven. Completely.

  And she knew she would be. Her friends considered him a hard-ass Dominant—and he was—but he was consistent in his rules. Consistent in what he considered problems. And once an argument or punishment was over, it was done. He didn’t hold grudges or keep score, and she loved that about him.

  “You wanted to know why Z put fake boulders in here?” Lifting her, he set her on a torso-length boulder next to the fake trees. “Let me show you.”

  When her tender, abused bottom rubbed over the coarse gray material, she hissed and tried to stand again.

  “Sore, darlin’?” He squeezed one ass cheek and grinned at her squeak. “Now, lie down.” Setting a hand between her breasts, he pushed her onto her back.

  The “rock” was made of firm foam, and dammit, the knee-high thing was tilted exactly enough to have her hips higher than her head. Why did the position make her feel so defenseless?

  He showed her why. With merciless hands, he held her thighs apart and licked from her pussy up and over her clit.

  “Aaah!” The exquisite sensation sent her to wiggling uncontrollably.

  “Squirmy subbie. I’m in the mood to put a stop to that.” Ropes were concealed on each side of the “rock,” and he clipped her ankle cuffs to them.

  God, only Master Z would put restraints on fake boulders.

  Using a chain anchored on a tree trunk, Sir secured her arms over her head. His firm lips curved up as he contemplated his work. “You look like a druid sacrifice, li’l rabbit.”

  The words uttered in his low, rough voice sounded threatening, and in the dim starlight of the room, his face was hard. Almost cruel. His gaze lowered to her pussy, which was now open and exposed and…available.

  Her heart started to pound, and need rolled over her in an implacable demand.

  “I’d hate to waste a good sacrifice.” Smiling slightly, he went down on one knee and kissed the skin of her inner thigh, then rubbed his chin against her skin. The day’s growth of beard on his jaw scraped her tender skin, and she shivered.

  Slowly, as if he was willing to take all night, he kissed his way to her pussy, teasing his lips over her mound. He returned to nuzzle the crease between her pussy and her thigh before he licked over her labia.

  Her pussy was swelling with each touch of his lips, tightening and tingling so fiercely it burned. Ever so lightly, he traced her clit with his tongue, teased around the hood
, and rubbed the sides.

  Oh, the feeling was amazing. Why did the sensation always seem new and different? More, more, more. She lifted her hips up.

  His laugh was a low rumble. “Sugar, if you move again, I’ll…reprimand…you.”

  Oh, not good. Her friends had shared their Doms’ various punishments. Some, like Master Marcus and Master Z were diabolically inventive. Master Nolan was more straightforward—and scary.

  Don’t move, Beth.

  He hadn’t missed a beat. His tongue continued raising her excitement, never exerting enough pressure to get her off. He pressed a finger inside her, adding new sensations. She felt him turn his hand to massage her G-spot. She didn’t know where the location was exactly, but oh God, when he rubbed there, her clit expanded a hundredfold.

  As the compulsion to come grew, her legs trembled, her nipples peaked—and ached. She couldn’t bear it. “Ple-e-e-ze…” Her voice came out barely louder than a sigh, but he heard. Oh no.

  He sat back on his knees, pulling his hands back. “Bad little rabbit.” He brought his callused palm down in a stinging slap directly on her pussy. On her clit.

  “Ow!” Even as the shock and the surge of heat shot to her core, she realized she’d spoken. Again. No, no, no. Her knees jerked with the effort to close and protect her most vulnerable spot.

  He slapped her again. This swat was harder…right on her swollen clit.

  She almost climaxed right then and there. Every muscle quivered—and she needed to come so badly she could hardly think. Need more.

  He didn’t smile, despite the laughter in his eyes. “When I want, sugar.” He didn’t order her not to come though. He rarely did…maybe because he didn’t need to. He knew her body and its reactions so well that if he didn’t want her to come he’d simply back off or slow down, leaving her teetering on the edge.

  Like now, the rat bastard.

  Her lips moved, forming the word please without making a sound.

  “Ah, that’s pretty, li’l rabbit.” He lowered his head, closed his lips over her stinging, burning clit, and her lower half tightened into a hard ball of need. When he slid one finger, then two, inside her, and increased the coiling pressure in her core, she had to bite back a moan.

  Please. Oh God. Her hands fisted over her head as he leisurely teased her, rubbing her G-spot, licking lightly all around her clit.

  When he rose up and pressed his cock at her entrance, she bit her lip in anticipation—and frustration. Her clit throbbed angry demands for his tongue to stay right there.

  She wanted everything. And would get only and exactly what he wanted her to have. His unwavering control somehow expanded every action until the sensations overflowed into her mind and soul.

  Slowly, slowly, he entered her, his shaft wonderfully thick and long.

  Her eyes closed as she savored the slick sensation and the stretch as new nerves were stimulated, as he steadily sheathed himself to the hilt. Wonderful. Her back arched at the sensuous slide.

  When she opened her eyes, his molten gaze burned into her as he thrust in and out, driving her up and up and—He stopped, and wicked amusement filled his eyes. “You know, I kinda liked your reaction to getting your pussy slapped.”

  What? No, wait.

  Before she could react, he eased out and lightly slapped her pussy—right on her clit—three times. Even as she gasped at the shocking sting, even as the burning sank into her, his shaft drove in. And he was thrusting hard and fast, sending her back up.

  He pulled out and three more slaps landed on her pussy.

  Oh God. The blows were a thick, hot sensation sliding to her depths, coiling the pressure tighter and tighter deep within her.

  And he thrust back inside, his cock thick and hard, pounding her in the way she loved. His hands closed on her swollen breasts, caressing, teasing her nipples, until her entire body was shimmering with hot need.

  He slid back out. And paused, his gaze holding hers as his hand rose and stopped.

  She tensed, not breathing, poised there at the exquisite edge, powerless to do anything else but anticipate the arrival of the unbearable pain and stupendous pleasure.

  His hand came down.

  Smack.

  And she came, came, came, the orgasm so ferocious and blinding that the waves of pleasure threw her into an ocean of sensation, rolling her head over heels. His hum of enjoyment teased her ears before he slapped her clit again, kicking off more intense waves.

  The slick slide of his thick cock entering her spawned more explosions in her center. Her vagina spasmed around his penetration, and her whole body tingled at the magnificent feeling.

  Before the convulsions had slowed, he was pumping into her with hard, fast strokes. His hands tightened on her hips. She could feel his shaft jerking and heat filling her as he rumbled his own pleasure.

  When he relaxed, anchoring her to the squashy boulder with his heavy weight, covering her in heat and safety, she sighed in perfect contentment. Turning her head, she breathed in his clean scent and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “I love you, Master.”

  “Mmm. I love you, too.” Still buried inside her, he growled a laugh. “And darlin’, you are now forgiven.”

  * * * * *

  A while later, back downstairs, Nolan set Beth on a barstool and leaned against the bar beside her. She’d taken a quick shower upstairs, and Nolan bent to kiss her neck and savor the clean, moist scent of her skin. Eyes heavy-lidded but free of shadows, she practically glowed with satiation.

  It’d been a rough then fucking satisfying night. They both deserved a drink.

  Near the end of the bar, Raoul was setting beers on a barmaid’s tray. He nodded at Nolan to say he’d seen them.

  “Hey Nolan.” Dressed in his brown leathers, Cullen strolled over. “Why don’t you bring the boys over next weekend? Hector would love them—and they’d get a kick out the jungle-gym.”

  No shit. Cullen’s Airedale loved kids. “Yeah, your mess of equipment”—swings, poles, platforms, bars right on the sandy ocean beach—“would send ’em into a play frenzy.”

  In fact, it’d be fun to build something similar at home. Connor and Grant would have a blast designing their own playground-gym after seeing Cullen’s. He caught Beth’s nod of agreement. “Next weekend sounds good.”

  Cullen smiled at Beth. “Andrea will call you, assuming she survives tonight.” With a grin, the big Dom headed back toward the scene areas, lifting a hand to the Drago cousins as they approached.

  Nolan nodded at them. “Drago and Drago, good to see you.”

  “I heard about Mrs. McCormick’s death,” Max said. “How are Grant and Connor doing?”

  Nolan almost smiled. Amazing how two little boys could turn a hard-ass into marshmallow goo. “Hurting, but okay. We’re trying to keep them busy. In fact, maybe you should swing by and help me teach them martial arts.”

  An exasperated groan came from Beth.

  “It’d be a pleasure.” Eyes lit with laughter—and without looking at Beth—Max added, “If you want to instruct them in sword-fighting, I’ve still got some blades. Sharp edges, but short enough for your boys.”

  “What?” Beth jumped to her feet. “Absolutely not. Nolan, you—”

  Max roared with laughter. “Kidding.”

  Beth set her hands on her hips. “You-you’re evil. I’m going to make your yard the prissiest, formal landscape in the world. All in shades of white and pale blue.”

  “Christ, woman. That’s just mean.”

  Behind Max, Alastair gave a slow smile. “I think it sounds fine.”

  “You would, you fucking limey.” Still chuckling, Max motioned toward where the unattached submissives were sitting. “C’mon. Let’s find a subbie to torture.”

  As the cousins moved away, Nolan chuckled. Some submissive was going to have an exciting night. He gripped Beth around the waist and returned her to the barstool. “No blades, sugar. But you know the munchkins need to get over their fear of cops.”


  “Can’t they play Candyland with him instead?” She heaved an irritated sigh. “You guys and your fascination with fighting is truly disgusting.”

  “It satisfies our sadistic natures on the days we can’t beat on our women. Good thing for me, I have you.” He squeezed her tender ass and grinned at the gratifying squeak.

  A grating laugh came from behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Sam Davies taking the empty space. Lean, gray-haired, and one of the Shadowlands Masters, the rancher was in his usual black jeans and black work shirt. “How you doin’, King?”

  “Been a good night.” A damn good night.

  Moving with the stiffness of a well-beaten masochist, Sam’s submissive joined him. Somewhere in her forties, Linda was curvy, redheaded, fair skinned…and was using a big cotton handkerchief to clean up the eye makeup streaking her freckled face.

  Sam’s lips quirked. “Don’t know why you wear that stuff, missy. It sure doesn’t last.”

  Linda narrowed her brown eyes. “It streaks because every time I wear it, you deliberately set out to make me cry. You wait; I’m going to find some industrial strength waterproof.”

  “You do that.” Chuckling, Sam nodded at Beth.

  She smiled at him and moved her legs under the bar to give Nolan more room. Her hiss of pain as the movement abused her tender ass made the sadist snort in amusement.

  Sam’s glance at Nolan held approval—probably because Beth also had the radiance of a well fucked, well satisfied submissive.

  The same glow Linda had.

  As Nolan exchanged a smile with Sam, he saw Alyssa approaching on his right. She stepped between him and Sam and flattened her hand on his chest.

  Behind him, Beth let out an annoyed growl. He didn’t blame her. Submissives didn’t touch any Dom without permission.

  Annoyed as fuck, he brushed Alyssa’s hand away. “Go away, sub. I’m not available or interested.”

  “I don’t believe you, Master,” she said in a breathy voice. Her gaze was fixed on him. Totally on him. Sub frenzy, dammit. Desperate to be dominated—and fixated on him. Damn well obsessed.

  Yeah, she wouldn’t believe anything he said at this point.