Make Me, Sir Page 5

  “Shhh.” He bent and licked lightly over the sore peak, easing the burn slightly, and soon each circle of his wet tongue sent erotic pulses to her pussy.

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  As the ache receded and the heat inside her increased, she realized she was panting. She tried to retreat.

  He chuckled. “No, stay here, sugar.” He tucked an arm around her waist, an iron bar imprisoning her.

  Before she had a chance to get ready, he detached the other clamp—the sadistic bastard—and gently touched her breast with his tongue. The sensations roiling inside her were too much: pain and need and confusion. Like an earthquake, a shaking started in her stomach and worked its way out until even her knees trembled.

  He straightened, his hands on her waist keeping her from falling. After studying her for a moment, he unclamped her cuffs and pulled her into his arms.

  She laid her head in the hollow of his shoulder and felt as if the world around her were crumpling. What was wrong with her?

  His arms tightened, his rock-hard body a place of stability. “It"s all right, darlin". Shhh.”

  The pain eased to a low throbbing, and her trembling diminished as she rested against him.

  “You"ve never had on nipple clamps before, have you?” he murmured. “Never done a public blowjob, never had rope work, never really submitted. Was anything on your application honest?”

  He knew. Closing her eyes against the sense of failure, she swallowed. “Some.”

  “Why the lies?” His voice was level, and his arms firm around her. His chest rose and fell slowly and evenly with each breath.

  “I wanted to make sure you"d take me as a trainee.” At least that was honest.

  As if he could tell, he sighed. “Means that much to you, sugar?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered into his shoulder.

  “Why?”

  Anxiety ripped at her. Must he keep asking questions? “I-I can"t explain really.

  It"s just something I want—I need.” For Kim.

  “Well.” He didn"t move for a minute. Two. “All right, darlin". If Master Z is willing to give you a chance, I"ll do the same.”

  Oh thank God, he wasn"t going to make her leave. Relief brought tears to her eyes, and her voice thickened. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Don"t lie to me again, Gabrielle.”

  She"d have to lie to him her entire time here. She had a moment to get her expression under control before he set her back, holding her for a second to ensure she could stand. She kept her gaze lowered so he wouldn"t read the guilt in her eyes.

  Let him think her embarrassed or ready to cry or whatever.

  After removing the paper from under one rope, he set it on the bar. He unwound everything quickly, making the throbbing in her breasts increase again.

  When she tried to touch them, he brushed her hands aside, and smiling slightly, he 28

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  massaged them, ignoring her moan of pain, giving her a level look when she clasped his wrists to make him stop.

  She let her arms fall to her sides, although her hands fisted. Pain mingled with pleasure as each brush of his fingers on her nipples sent need shooting to her clit. She bit her lip, feeling the heat rising within her. When she chanced a peek at him, he was studying her—her face, her hands, her shoulders. A slight smile curved his lips.

  “So, Gabrielle.” His thumbs circled her distended, very sensitive nipples, somehow making her clit throb as well. “What did you learn from this lesson?”

  That I’ve never known I could be so turned on. No. Bad answer.

  She glanced at the writing on the paper he"d tucked under the ropes: ENJOY

  THE PRETTY BREASTS. ENJOY THEM LONGER IF SHE ISN"T RESPECTFUL.

  MASTER MARCUS. No wonder the doms had manhandled her. I’ve learned how really mean you can be didn"t seem like a good answer either. “Not to demand clothing.”

  His mouth thinned slightly. “Try again.”

  “Not to demand anything and to show respect, Sir.” Thank God the place had emptied. Even Agent Dickhead had left. He"d wait in the parking lot to trail her discretely to her apartment, undoubtedly hoping the kidnapper would act during his watch.

  “That"s right.” His lips curved up. “Give me a kiss and thank me for your lesson in manners.”

  Gee, boss, thanks for torturing me?

  His hands closed around her arms, and he pulled her forward.

  She winced when her nipples mashed against his suit—thank God the material wasn"t rough, she thought, before his lips closed over hers. Velvety and firm. Competent and gentle.

  And then he took her deeper, so hard and fast her head spun. His grip on her arm kept her in place; his other hand cupped her jaw as he plundered, finishing off his lesson of just who was in charge.

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  Chapter Four

  The lion"s deep-throated roar sent a chill down Gabi"s spine. Holy hell, she hadn"t been here in a while, and she"d forgotten what they sounded like up so close.

  The sweat under her arms wasn"t totally from the heat. A voice in her head scrambled around like a mouse, screaming, Run run run! He’ll chomp me down in one bite. She hauled in a breath, smelling the ammonia of cat urine mixed with the tropical flowers and the moist morning air. After checking the lush undergrowth and moss-covered trees for any stalking felines, she hurried to catch up to her group.

  While the mix of men and women listened attentively to the guide, Gabi trailed behind, not paying attention. After all, she"d taken Big Cat Rescue tours before. Today she just wanted to enjoy the cats and not think about last night.

  One out of two wasn"t bad.

  In the next cage, a panther relaxed on a thick tree limb and regarded the group with a poise that reminded Gabi of Master Marcus. And that was the problem. Instead of taking her mind off Marcus, the tawny-colored cats kept reminding her of him. Sleek and smooth and self-confident. Marcus even had the same stalking gait and measuring gaze.

  In contrast she felt like a dog. A round cocker-spaniel puppy tripping over her fat, fluffy feet. Licking everything in sight. She grinned, remembering how she"d licked Master Sam"s orange-flavored cock.

  Yeah, she was doing a fine job of thinking of something else. With a resigned sigh, she stretched, trying to get her body to wake up. She"d gotten back last night hours past her usual bedtime.

  And today she felt just plain tired…and sore too. Even her silkiest bra rubbed painfully on her sensitive, swollen nipples. One more thing to remind her of that damned dom…and how his touch had been so sure and a little rough.

  She"d dreamed about him.

  Why couldn"t Z have given her to a different dom? One who wasn"t so cold…and then so warm. One minute Marcus had instructed her as if she hadn"t left grade school, and the next he"d kiss her… His lips had been firm, and he"d held her as if he had a right to take what he wanted. She closed her eyes as a full-fledged hot flash turned the air to a sauna"s temperature.

  Dammit. This was not the time to get excited over a guy. As a decoy, she"d fully expected to get swatted or be embarrassed for misbehaving, even to get groped and 30

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  have sex with people she didn"t know, but she"d never conceived of wanting someone. Of course Marcus was gorgeous, yet she"d never found all that chiseled handsome stuff so hot before. But Mr. Stuffy Lawyer somehow turned her on just by looking at her.

  Maybe due to her lack of recent activity. After Andrew, she"d lost interest in dating, since when she"d broken up with him, she"d realized she"d once again picked a man her parents would approve of. You"d think she"d learn. That kind of man liked her in the beginning, then started getting more and more critical. She never lived up to their expectations—never lived up to her parents" expectations either.

  She"d never be perfect.

  Marcus is…and dammit, I don’t like perfect people. Well, it didn"t matter. After another night or so of her insolence, Marcus would hate the sight of her.

  That just made her feel even more miserable.

  Behind her, from the parking area, the peacocks screamed, recalling her to reality. A bad reality. Grumpily, she trailed after the group, scuffing her sneakers on the dirt path. In a nearby pen, a panther chirped, the sound an octave lower than her cats" voices.

  Her poor kitties. When she"d moved into the cheap apartment the FBI had obtained for her, her two boys had sulked, displeased at leaving all their well-marked furniture behind. She understood totally. This job made her feel like an animal in a zoo—stuck in a tiny, ugly enclosure under all sorts of rules, with someone watching all the time. It was probably why she"d thought of visiting here this morning, to sympathize with the other trapped beasties.

  She shared another bond with the big cats here. They knew all about hunting.

  Despite the scorching sun, Gabi shivered. I’m prey. Hopefully the kidnapper had taken the bait and was stalking Gabi right now. If not, or if he didn"t try for the other decoys, the investigation would stall until he made a move—undoubtedly in some other city. Part of her wanted to be his chosen one, the hapless victim who'd lure him into a cage of FBI agents. Another part, scared shitless, begged to go home and curl up with her cats.

  How many women had he ripped from their lives and sold? Kouros said the guy could have been doing this for a while. She felt her fingers rubbing the scar on her face and pulled her hand away. I don’t want to be his target. But she had no better way to help her friend. What would happen to Kim—to all the other women—

  if he wasn"t caught? Stay the course, Gabi.

  The tour had stopped as the guide talked about a tiger rescued from a zoo.

  While they watched, an attendant threw a watermelon into a pond. Gabi giggled as the huge cat sprang down a slope and launched himself after it. Water sprayed everywhere.

  As she walked to the parking lot, still grinning, she turned her cell phone back on. Two missed calls from Rhodes. Before she"d made it to her car, he called again.

  Oh joy.

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  “Hello,” she said.

  “You aren"t cutting it, Renard…” He continued on in full Dickhead mode. She hadn"t done a good job or been noticeable enough… “Two other women made more of a splash than you did last night, Renard. A blonde and a little brunette. Better looking than you too, so tell me why the kidnapper would choose you if he could grab one of them?”

  Well, that hurt. Maybe it shouldn"t, since she knew she wasn"t especially pretty, but still… She bit back her first response. As a social worker, she"d learned that calling someone a sorry-ass loser tended to screw up any chance of cooperation.

  A shame the scum-sucking dipwad couldn"t grasp the concept. “I understand,” she said sweetly. “But bear in mind if I"m too badly behaved, they"ll wonder why Z

  doesn"t boot me out of the trainees. But I"ll try to be louder tonight.”

  “You will damn well be louder.”

  Or what? You’ll take me off this job and get a person with no clue of how to behave in a club? She changed the subject. “Do I have someone watching me during the day?”

  “Of course. There"s always one agent somewhere near you. Just go about your business and leave the work to us.”

  Her hand clamped on the phone. Work, huh? She"d far rather serve as the backup. Maybe she should stick clamps on his dick and let him discover the joys of decoy duty…if anyone could find what was probably an itty-bitty dick. She grinned.

  “Will do.”

  She snapped the phone shut. He sure hadn"t changed since last year. She grimaced. After a school shooting in Tampa, the authorities had called in victim specialists from other areas, including her Miami office. Dickhead had headed up the investigation, and they"d butted heads over his crass behavior toward women, like the sisters of the shooters—ones who felt they couldn"t say anything. Due to his high connections, her complaints got ignored. He was such a bastard.

  But right now, the bastard had a point. She needed to ramp up her bratty act.

  She rolled her eyes. To think she had competition for the brattiest in the club.

  Unfortunately the most disobedient sub wouldn"t receive a trophy, but slavery instead. Her amusement died.

  She had agents watching her back, but the other two submissives in the Shadowlands didn"t. If the kidnapper took those women because Gabi hadn"t made a good enough effort… How could she live with that?

  So…must be louder, nastier. She flipped the phone open and shut, trying to think of showy ways to demonstrate she was a badass submissive. Rude attitude, check. Insults? Hmm.

  She smiled. The teenage victims she counseled sure had good ones. Maybe make a list and memorize some.

  What else could she do to show her brattiness? She slid into her car, then giggled, remembering one of Marcus"s orders.

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  She hadn"t wanted to shave down there anyway.

  * * *

  After lifting weights for an hour, Marcus walked into the locker room of the fitness club. He nodded at the lanky college student changing into a karate uniform. “Tim, how are you doing?”

  “Good, man, good.” Tim finished knotting his brown belt. “Sensei asked if you"d arrived yet. He wants you to mentor a couple of new boys.”

  “Ah.” Marcus frowned. He"d cleared some of his cases, had a closing argument to prepare, another court date after that. As a prosecuting attorney, he never lacked for things to do, but he"d much prefer to guide the next generation in the right direction rather than skewering them in court. He"d find the time. “Please tell him I would be happy to help out.”

  “Good deal. Their mama brought them in—sounds like they"re sliding into a gang.”

  “Got it.” As the young man headed out, Marcus shook his head. Damn gangs.

  Well, he"d give the sensei a hand with getting the boys onto a better track.

  Pulling on his gi, Marcus glanced at the wall clock. After class, he"d have just enough time to shower and change before heading to the Shadowlands.

  He smiled, looking forward to the evening. He enjoyed working with the trainees and doing scenes with the various subs in the club, but Gabrielle had added a sense of challenge he hadn"t felt in a long time. Hadn"t realized he missed.

  And yet he didn"t like misbehaving submissives. As he tied his black belt, he pondered on his anticipation. The new trainee had an appealing little body, soft and curvy. Her face had character, which he believed more attractive than mere beauty, although she was pretty too, with those rich brown eyes and the pale skin warmed by her red hair. So yes, her appearance attracted him.

  Her personality? She had a quirky sense of humor and a soft, sultry giggle that made him laugh. Definitely smart. And she had an easygoing charm—at least when she wasn"t trying to be obnoxious.

  She"d tested him all evening. But the few times he"d seen her submit had been heady. He"d wanted more. Wanted her in bondage, with willing surrender in her eyes.

  What would she be like in bed? When she"d kissed him, she"d focused her entire attention on him. Not worrying about other people, her clothes, her hair—

  just giving her all. That kind of concentration was as sexy as it was compelling.

  A man had to wonder if she"d concentrate on fucking as completely.

  He started to harden and gave an exasperated snort. Having a woody in a karate class? Bad idea. Besides, it was too early to think about taking the little sub.

  Too soon to even make solid plans on how to train her. As unpredictable as she was, he"d need to play it by ear. Hopefully he"d figure out why she had such a rebellious attitude, and then he could center some scenes around the problem.

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  Smiling, he slammed his locker shut and snapped on the padlock. Any way he looked at it, he doubted he"d be bored tonight.

  * * *

  Boot camp, Shadowlands-style. The wood floor hurt Gabi"s knees as she knelt in the entryway with the other trainees for Master Marcus"s inspection before the evening began. As he strolled down the line, she kept expecting him to bark out, Is your rifle clean, Private? She stared at the floor. Don’t giggle, dummy. Shoes appeared, nice charcoal gray slacks, a suit coat, and… When she met Marcus"s intent gaze, her amusement disappeared—along with the rest of her mind.

  He held her, frozen in place, with only the power in his eyes.

  Then he smiled. “Welcome back to the Shadowlands, Gabrielle. Stand yourself up now.”

  Feeling gawky after the smooth grace of the others, she scrambled to her feet and imitated the stance they"d taken. Feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind her back, straight posture, chin up. Sir, yes, Sir. But as his razor-sharp gaze scrutinized her body, she flushed and her nipples contracted into peaks, thankfully concealed by her vest. Surely that wasn’t supposed to happen in boot camp.

  “You look very nice,” he said in his deep, molasses-slow voice, and his approval made her feel as if she"d gotten a gold star on her spelling paper. Of course, she deserved a gold star for her attire. She"d gone for a barbaric appearance with a laced-up leather vest and matching short leather skirt. Knowing she"d be barefoot, she"d painted her toenails a garish red. Temporary tattoos of swords and thorns circled her upper arms.

  He ran his hand over one tattoo, and his eyebrows quirked. As his calloused palm continued down her arm, her knees weakened. How could a man"s touch—just his damned touch—mess with her like this?

  His gaze intent on her face, he lifted her hand and nibbled her fingers.

  When her toes curled, he smiled slowly. “Tonight you"ll waitress on the dance side of the room. Remember, you may not play with anyone without my permission, but you"re encouraged to stop and talk.” His bourbon-smooth voice spiraled around the top of her spine and slid straight down to her groin like a sip of hundred-proof sex. “With all the instructions you had last night, I"m not sure I explained this well.

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