Make Me, Sir Page 22

  Instead he studied her. Shoulders still rigid, walk stiff, the small muscles around her eyes and mouth tense. “Gabrielle.”

  She looked up at him, her brown eyes wary. “I"ll listen to what you have to say, but just so you know, I don"t want to…to work…with you.” Her mouth twisted bitterly at the word. “You"re wasting your time.”

  The stab hurt. “I understand.” And she was perfectly justified for her feelings; however, if she stayed enmeshed in the past, she"d not listen to him at all. How could he get her to relax? Got it. He stopped, right in the middle of the sidewalk.

  After removing his shoes, he stuffed his socks in the toes and rolled up his jeans.

  She stared at him as if she"d never seen bare legs before, and a spurt of humor broke through his guilt. Did she really see him as that stuck in the mud? He tied the laces together, slung his shoes over his shoulder, and nodded toward the wide expanse of beach. “Coming?”

  After eyeing him suspiciously, she said, “Fine,” and followed suit, removing her shoes and socks. Although she"d worn a black T-shirt and jeans, her sneakers were blue and her socks a flaming red that matched her toenails. Damn, she made him smile every time he saw her.

  She walked beside him toward the water. The warm sand was deep and soft, the footing a little unsteady. He watched with satisfaction as she gave up hating him and concentrated on avoiding clusters of seaweed, broken shells, and enthusiastic dogs.

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  When they reached the wet sand, flattened into firmness by the waves, he took her hand.

  Startled, she frowned up at him, gave a token tug to see if he"d cooperate, and then shrugged, obviously deciding not to fight about it. She turned her head, staring at the water. “So talk.”

  He snorted a laugh. “Tough little sub, aren"t you?”

  Her mouth tightened, but she didn"t look up.

  He stopped, took her shoes, and dropped both pairs onto the sand. Cupping her cheek with one hand, he used his thumb to tilt her head up. Her stormy eyes met his. “Gabrielle, I"m sorry.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said cynically. “What are you sorry for, anyway? I"m the one who lied.”

  She didn"t want to admit they had anything between them that he could have damaged. He couldn"t quite read her; too many emotions warred across the face.

  Defensiveness. Hurt. Anger. Something else. “Z lied too, Gabi. Did either of you have a choice?”

  “No, but—”

  He sighed. “I don"t like this matter at all, but you didn"t do anything wrong.”

  Her brown eyes lightened slightly, and then a crease furrowed her brow.

  “What are you apologizing for?”

  He lifted his other hand, holding her face between his palms. Her cheeks were soft and warm. The sunlight glinted off her long red-blonde eyelashes. “I might not have known about the role you played, but still, the thought of how rough I was on you sits poorly with me.”

  “Not your fault, Sir.”

  The inadvertent slip warmed his heart. “But what I truly regret—”

  Gabi waited for him to gather his words, and actually felt a bit of amusement.

  Was the fancy lawyer at a loss for the right thing to say? Her humor faded quickly, for his firm hands kept her from retreating and assuming a more comfortable, distant manner. He"d placed them face-to-face and shared his emotions as openly as he demanded the same from her.

  His thumb rubbed over her chin. “I regret the loss of your trust, Gabrielle. I deliberately kept you after closing on Saturday. I could tell you had a reason for all the defiance, and I wanted to discover what it was so we could deal with it.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “Questioning you when you couldn"t think was to help, not undermine you. Instead it turned into a betrayal of your trust. I"m sorry, Gabi.”

  He hurt too. The open pain in his eyes crumpled her hard-erected defenses as if she"d constructed them of paper. Somehow he"d gone straight to the heart of her anger. He"d known that she did feel betrayed. Did feel as if he"d taken advantage of her, and she wouldn"t have if she hadn"t trusted him so much. Her breath hitched, 146

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  and her eyes flooded with tears. Oh hell. She tried to jerk away, choking out, “Let me go.”

  “No, darlin", that I won"t.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his solid chest. His hand pressed her head into the hollow of his shoulder and the comfort…the sheer wonder at being held finished her off. And she cried, sobbing out her pain, even her smoldering anger at the punishments she herself had forced him to mete out. He hurt me and hit me, and he means so much to me…

  He enclosed her in his hard arms, rumbling unintelligible, comforting sounds, and rocked her slowly in his cradle of safety. As the storm of her emotions died down, she managed somehow to find a semblance of control and pull herself together.

  His arms loosened, and he let her go…and she wanted to crawl back into his embrace.

  “Little sub,” he murmured and used his thumbs to wipe the tears from her face.

  “I got your shirt wet.”

  He didn"t look like himself, thick hair windblown, jeans, his cotton shirt rumpled and wet, but his blue eyes hadn"t changed, and neither had the way he studied her. “It"ll dry. Hopefully you feel better.”

  She felt…hollow, emptied of anger and pain. Her fear hadn"t left, but—

  “What?” He frowned, tilted her chin up. “Something is still wrong.”

  “It"s not you.” She shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I"m just scared. Nothing new.”

  The word he said under his breath could never have come from Mr.

  Conservative, and she stared at him in shock.

  He laughed, his deep, infectious laugh that was almost as startling as hearing him curse. He pulled her hand away from her scar and kissed her fingertips. After picking up the shoes, he put his arm over her shoulder and started walking again.

  As the tide came in, the waves flowed farther up the sand, engulfing and tickling their feet in frothy white water. She smiled. Then the tightness returned to her chest. What would it be like to never be part of any of this again?

  He squeezed her shoulder, breaking into her thoughts. “Do you think less of yourself because you"re afraid?”

  “A little. Other people manage to do this kind of thing all the time.”

  “And some hide in their houses scared to come out,” he said. “You learned about violence at an early age and in a particularly ugly way, Gabrielle. But more than that…”

  She glanced up at him, and his eyes met hers.

  “You have a caring personality. You understand people and want to help.

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  that evil can create.” His brows drew together. “You must have studied this in college, and you had counseling. You should know this, sugar.”

  She gave him a wry smile. “I do. I did. But deliberately setting myself up for—”

  She halted. She hadn"t planned to mention—

  “I heard you volunteered because of your friend.” Despite the concerned expression on his face, his gaze held only warm approval. “You"re a loyal friend, Gabi.”

  Her laugh came easily, as if her tears had hollowed out room for happier emotions. “Nah, I just wanted an excuse to hang out in a BDSM club.”

  He chuckled, then cursed as an incoming wave soaked the bottoms of his rolled-up jeans.

  She giggled.

  One second before the next wave hit, he swung her around to reverse their positions. She squeaked as cold water splashed up her calves, soaked the material over her thighs, and ran down her legs, turning her skin to goose bumps. “You…you scumbag dipwad.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Did you call your dom a name?”

  She giggled, then protested, “You"re not my dom.”

  “Am I not?” D
eliberately, he tossed their shoes onto the dry sand and advanced on her.

  “No, wait.” Hands up, she waded farther into the water until it hit her knees and each wave tested her balance.

  He stopped, and his smile faded. “Seriously, Gabi, do you want me to arrange a different dom for you?”

  The thought of losing him actually hurt, like a cruel blow somewhere deep inside. Obviously she"d ventured farther with him than was safe. A wave surged into her, and she staggered on the shifting sand—the footing was definitely unstable. She and Marcus had no solid foundation either, but…for right now, she"d cherish the time with him. Hell, she could end up enslaved or dead before this week ended—might as well take what she wanted from life. “I want you,” she said, then winced. “Uh. I still have to behave like a brat.”

  He chuckled and heaved a mock sigh of complaint. “You planning to make this here weekend a nightmare for me?”

  “You bet.” And what a relief he now realized it was an act—well, some of it was an act.

  “In that case, I"m fixin" to feel badly every time I punish you.” His face sobered.

  “I truly will, Gabi. I understand why Galen and Vance demanded secrecy. I don"t think I could have…” He shook his head.

  He was the kind of dom who would hurt for doing what must be done. “I know.

  It"s okay.”

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  “Well, that"s good then.” He curved his hands around her waist in a hard grip.

  “However, li"l brat, I reckon I"m not going to regret this at all.”

  She frowned at him. This?

  He actually grinned. Then he lifted her and tossed her head over heels into the water.

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  Chapter Sixteen

  When Gabi walked into the Shadowlands that Friday, apprehension crept up her spine. How would the Masters treat her now?

  She spotted Agent Rhodes sitting at the end of the bar and snickered at his glare. Had Vance or Galen taken him down a peg? Or maybe the fact that they hadn"t reprimanded her torqued his jaw. She veered to avoid him and headed for the other end of the bar, where Master Raoul talked with the big bartender.

  “Ah, if it isn"t our wayward trainee.” Raoul smiled at her, his dark eyes warm.

  She flushed, remembering how he"d held her…and how rudely she"d behaved afterward. “Good evening, Master Raoul…oh, Master of the Universe,” she amended quickly. Damn these doms for making it so easy to forget her role.

  “Master of the Universe? That doesn"t sound too bad.” Cullen leaned an arm on his bar and grinned. “So how do I get greeted, little sub?”

  “Well…” He was baiting her. Deliberately. She tried to forget that he"d put a ball gag on her for being mouthy and raised her voice so the people seated around the bar could hear her. “You know how really big guys are always nicknamed Tiny?”

  She didn"t wait for any response, afraid she"d chicken out. “Guess that would make you Master Munchkin, huh?”

  Raoul choked on his beer, sputtering so hard Gabi helpfully slapped him on the shoulders. Several times, although his back felt like a concrete wall.

  Success—now she had two doms glaring at her, and Andrea stood behind Cullen, hands over her mouth, trying to smother her laughter and failing miserably.

  The other reactions around the bar varied. Some of the doms grinned. A few looked displeased, their expressions similar enough to her father"s that she retreated a step as her backbone of oak turned to willow.

  “Is this trainee acting out again?” At the sound of Marcus"s soft drawl, excitement replaced her dread. She started to spin, only to have him yank her back against his body. His hard chest pressing against hers and his unbending strength somehow emptied her mind like someone had opened a drain.

  “Impertinent submissive,” Raoul snapped, and his dark brown eyes turned mean. “Nothing new for this one. You"re doing a lousy job of bringing her to heel, Marcus.”

  “Bring me to heel? Like I"m a dog?” Without thinking, Gabi instinctively yanked away and snapped out, “Bite me.”

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  “I"d say she does need to be brought to heel.” Marcus"s blue eyes chilled.

  “Cullen, do you still have the toys Margery left?”

  Cullen laughed, loud and strong. Her stomach sank. Dammit, she"d only arrived a few minutes ago. A little warm-up would have been nice.

  He rummaged in the shelves under the bar, and she felt a glimmer of hope.

  Considering how much junk he had stored, maybe he wouldn"t—

  “Bingo.” He shoved a brown paper sack across the bar to Marcus.

  “Is there a problem here?” Master Z strolled up to the bar.

  Oh God, they’re conglomerating. Nooo.

  “Afraid so, Z,” Raoul said, pulling the sack closer. He smiled at her. “Lose the clothes, subbie.”

  “No way. I"ve only had this on a half an hour,” she protested without moving. “I like this dress.”

  Marcus lifted her chin. “You"ve been disrespectful to the doms and disobedient.

  Since a spanking didn"t work, let"s see if humiliation will incite you to more attractive behavior.”

  The relentless look in his eyes and the controlled power in his voice turned her body into a forge of heat, melting her bones. It took a minute for the meaning of his words to catch up. Wait, wait, wait. Humiliation?

  He pulled her closer and unzipped her skintight, black latex dress. Her skin seemed to yearn toward him, and as if he knew, he slid his fingers under the material and fondled her breasts. He held her gaze as he touched her, rubbing his thumbs in circles over her nipples until the peaks bunched painfully and a tremor of need shook her body.

  “There we go,” he said. “All warmed up and ready for action.”

  What kind of action? The nipple clamps came to mind, and she tried to take a step back.

  He pulled the dress over her head. “I"ve always preferred my subs naked anyway.”

  His strong hands held her waist firmly, warm against her skin, and she stared up, bathed in the clear blue of his eyes. Every time she looked at him, the world seemed to slip sideways.

  Then she shook her head. Get over it. She saw Raoul pick up her dress and hand it to Cullen. Naked, dammit. Even worse, she had a hunch they"d barely started.

  Marcus took a dog collar off the bar and buckled it around her neck. The controlled heat in his eyes pinned her far more securely than any restraint.

  Something shook deep inside, like an earthquake so far below the surface that nothing moves above.

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  “I like seeing you in a collar,” he said softly. His fingers checked the fit, tracing along the edge of the leather. Arousal bloomed in her body as if he"d touched her pussy instead, and he smiled into her eyes and ran his fingers the other direction.

  He slid fur mittens over her hands, fastening small buckles, which would prevent her from removing them unless she used her teeth. Furry mittens. A collar.

  Her stomach tightened as she began to suspect what they planned. “Bite me.” She"d made a really poor choice of words.

  Marcus took a hair comb from the bag, displayed the brown, furry ovals hanging from each side, and slid it into her hair. He adjusted it so the furry… ears…dangled against her cheeks.

  She stared at him in horror—they actually planned to dress her up like a dog.

  A floppy-eared dog. Fury rolled through her. Spanking was one thing, this was…

  “You sorry-ass bastard, you are not going to do this!”

  She heard laughter around her. Then Master Marcus yanked her off her feet and flattened her on the bar. Her bare stomach lay on the cool, polished wood, and her legs dangled over the side. He leaned against the backs of her thighs, immovable and heavy, and patted her bottom. “You might could be less sassy, sugar.”

  C
ullen tossed Marcus something, and she heard paper tear. “That"s a fine size,” Marcus said approvingly.

  Oh no. Oh God. The last time he"d set her in this position—

  “Raoul, if you would?” Marcus said.

  “My pleasure.” Raoul"s hard hands pulled the cheeks of her bottom apart. Cold liquid dripped into the crack.

  “Oh no, you don"t,” she yelled, struggling to pull away.

  The weight on her legs increased. Something touched her anus. Marcus made a little circle around the rim with the slick lube, and nerves jolted awake and fired straight to her pussy. “Easy, sugar. Push back so it doesn"t hurt.”

  “You bastard, I—”

  A slap across her bottom silenced her. “I do believe you"re trying my patience, sugar.” Without mercy, Marcus slowly pushed the anal plug in. Bigger than before, burning as it stretched her, and she moaned and squirmed.

  She couldn"t move. Couldn"t escape. And then, with the feel of Marcus"s body pinning her to the bar, his fingers warm between her ass checks, and his determined invasion of even her most private place, she surrendered completely. It was as if his use of that area reinforced his rights over her as effectively as putting a collar on her. As her will to fight disappeared, she looked over her shoulder at him. He was watching her intently. When her yielding gaze met his, his eyes fired with possessiveness.

  For long moments, he held her transfixed until he finally looked away, breaking the spell.

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  She hauled in a shuddering breath, recalled to her surroundings. She realized she was wet between her legs from more than the lubricant, and her body craved, screamed for him to touch her there. To take her. In front of everyone? Oh God, was she insane? I’m on a bar. Exposed. How could this possibly turn her on? Unable to bear the humiliation, she started to struggle again.