His Only Hope

This time, he’s not giving her up without a fight.

After two grueling years caring for her terminally ill mother, Hope O’Shea is eager to start fresh. Except her first interior-decorating job is for a popular BDSM club—part of her kinky past she misses, but had to leave behind. Worse, she somehow ends up in the arms of her ex-Dom, Gabriel Cassidy. The one man who could strip her emotions bare, so bare that rather than reveal her painful history, she ran. Gabriel never understood why Hope left without even a goodbye. Determined to get answers, he entices her to Maison Domine for a weekend on the promise of meeting the owner for another decorating job. Except being with her again reminds him why he loved her in the first place—and why she shouldn’t trust him as her Dom. As their attraction reignites, Hope is transported back to the sub-space bliss she felt only with Gabe. Then a nightmare from her past shows up at the club, and with no other safe place to turn, she has no choice but to trust Gabe with her shame. Leaving Gabe with a devastating choice—reveal his last secret…or lose his Hope.

Warning: This book contains a feisty interior decorator, a dominating leather worker, heart-wrenching sex and redemption.

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B Cincinnati OH 45249 His Only Hope Copyright © 2011 by Skylar Kade ISBN: 978-1-60928-567-8 Edited by Sue Ellen Gower Cover by Scott Carpenter All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: September 2011 www.samhainpublishing.com

His Only Hope Skylar Kade

Dedication

To my Suz, for molding this story into something beautiful; to the Nine Naughty Novelists, the best co-bloggers a girl could ask for; to Sheldon and Leonard, my furry writing companions; and to Ky, killer of spiders, giver of cuddles and keeper of my heart.

Chapter One

Hope O’Shea thought she’d never set foot in The Sunset Strip ever again. She’d been out of the scene for two years, which had been good for her. She shivered, remembering the handful of times she’d come here. On her return to LA, Melina, the Mistress who owned the popular BDSM nightclub, contacted her to redesign the whole place. Dammit, the things she did for old friends and new clients. This Saturday night, like most, the club’s otherwise inconspicuous entrance saw an overwhelming amount of foot traffic. Housed in a ’50s-era office building, it was impossible to guess what the dark brick walls held, so long as one ignored the interesting mix of characters entering and exiting. Hope shook her head, exorcising thoughts of the past. Strands of newly cut and dyed auburn hair flew into her eyes, and she brushed them away. She missed the convenience of ponytails, but her stylist assured her the shorter hair was “chic and professional”. “It’s now or never, Hope.” She nodded at her reflection in the visor mirror and used the lure of a giant paycheck to shore up her courage before leaving the safety of her SUV. Her spike heels, three inches high and fire-truck red, clicked on the pavement from the large parking lot across the street to the club entrance. Clammy hands smoothed invisible wrinkles out of her new black pantsuit. It wasn’t proper scene attire, but it would have to do, because even if her old corsets and lingerie hadn’t been too big on her, she wouldn’t have worn something seductive for a business meeting. The red French doors loomed ahead and an invisible weight settled on her chest. Despite her work with a therapist and her progress, panic attacks still loomed like storm clouds. Too tense, that was her. She poured herself into work, eschewing any distractions in order to build her client list. Maybe once she had her business up and running she could try to find vanilla recreations. But no more BDSM. No more vulnerability. She eyed the club and appreciated the irony. Myriad outlets for her anxiety could be hers for the night, if only she asked. As nice as one night of submission might be, it would be a step backward. It would be her relying on someone other than herself. One of Melina’s security team, decked out in leather pants and black T-shirt, opened the door for her. A quick thanks and she was inside, heading down the short hall to the main office. She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, before temptation overruled her better sense.

His Only Hope

The door was open, but Mel was not there. She cursed Mel for insisting that they meet during her busiest night so Hope could get a feel for how the club had grown and understand how to meet its new design needs. She always met clients face-to-face the first time. Body language told a much richer story than words, and tapping into those cues made her a better designer, often fulfilling the intangible, unspoken goals of her clients. Once she tackled this meeting, she could return during the week to sketch her first round of suggested renovations and décor updates. No loud music, no BDSM and fewer flashbacks to the pleasures she’d had here. If she’d been able to just meet with Melina in her office and leave, Hope could have managed. She was in her element during client meetings. But instead, she’d have to go traipsing through the club. Hope dug her fingernails into her palms, letting the pain sap away some of her nerves. She returned to the main entryway and gave her name to the gatekeeper, the man sitting behind an innocuous little desk who vetted members and guests before they were allowed to enter the main club. “Ah, Ms. O’Shea. Mistress said you’d be coming by around ten. She’s in the far back room, the Victorian one. She said you’d know the way.” He opened the door into the dark main room of the club, revealing little except ear-popping music and the occasional flash of skin. The air vibrated with pounding music. She knew Doms were flogging to the driving base beat, and subs had their blood thumping along with each thud of leather on skin. Her nose twitched at the memory of being latched to the whipping post in the main room and flogged for all to see. She’d loved it then, would probably love it now. Not that she’d be confirming her theory. Club Sunset’s main room housed a stage full of rigging equipment and larger props. Tables and chairs were scattered around it, and the bar along the left wall was doing brisk business. Men took her measure— she could feel their eyes crawling up her jacket-covered spine—and she purposefully scanned the room to avoid their curious and hungry looks. On the opposite wall, several vendors had set up shop. Nothing like the club scene to make you want that third—or tenth—flogger. In the corner opposite the entrance, a hall and staircase led to smaller playrooms. She beelined for the hall, not meeting any eyes or looking around too much. She’d seen it all before—too much exposed flesh, warm red patches on the backs and thighs and breasts of subs, boys playing at being dominant, and the occasional Dom whose very aura demanded submission from the submissives around him. That’s how Gabriel Cassidy had been, dominant to the core. Impossible to resist. The music swallowed her wry laugh as bittersweet memories found her, and for a moment she could have sworn she saw Gabe heading up the stairs. Hope’s heart stuttered and she dug her nails into her hands once more, willing the apparition away.

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According to her recent phone call to Melina, Gabe left California shortly after their breakup. Mel had mentioned he was doing something on the East Coast, but she’d had no inclination to discover the specifics, despite the woman’s knowing voice tempting her otherwise. Relief flooded her as she reached the more confined space of the hall and she paused to savor it, running her hand through her hair and grimacing when she hit shoulder instead. She still wasn’t used to this short haircut. Hope was a visual person; sounds didn’t evoke the same memories as did the accoutrements of the club or a live scene. Maybe she could stay in the hall and wait for Melina to come her way. She moved to readjust her glasses, only remembering she now wore contacts when her finger hit the bridge of her nose. Another suggestion from her stylist. Hope appreciated the polished look, though she missed the comfort of the so-called “fashion rut” she’d been in. It certainly would have been reassuring tonight. Moans and whimpers and the sounds of impact play drifted through the open doors lining the long hall that ended at the Victorian room, painted a royal purple and presiding over the smaller, less-ornate rooms. Two men left from one of the closer doors and made their way to her, walking side by side down the narrow hall. Though barely taller than her—with the heels—they probably each outweighed her by fifty pounds of muscle. The one closest nearly crashed into her as he passed. “Oh, excuse me,” she murmured, rubbing her now-aching shoulder. He whirled on his heel and invaded her personal space. “What was that, slave?” God help her if these two were the high-protocol, high-on-dominance kind. She dropped her gaze to the floor, just in case. “Uh, excuse me?” His body and arms caged her in against the wall. “The proper response is, ‘I apologize, Master.’ And you should have moved out of the way or been on your knees in the first place. Snotty cunt, aren’t you. I know what girls like you need.” He ground his erection into her belly. For a moment, he sounded like Joseph, her first and only Master. Before Gabe, before she knew better. Evil visions of that past clawed at her brain and she gasped for breath as if she’d been socked in the stomach. The asshole turned to his buddy. “Ah, see, she does like it.” One meaty hand latched on to her arm in a bruising grip while the other wrapped around her neck. Hope drowned in panic and spots danced across her vision. “Blue,” she rasped out, the house safe word for “stop right now”. “Blue? Slut, the only blue I know is black and blue. Like your ass is gonna be when I’m done teaching you respect for your betters.” His evil cackle raked down her spine.

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“Safe word,” she choked out. The other man joined in the laughter. “Oh look, the uppity slave thinks she can tell me what to do.” His hand released her arm to reach down her blouse and pinch a nipple. Hope’s eyes watered in pain and humiliation and nightmares of Master Joseph. “What say you we take her to one of the private rooms, eh?” his crony piped in. “We can put her in her place.” The first thug snarled in her face. “Not so disrespectful now, are you, slave?” Hope couldn’t respond. She withdrew into herself, searching for that safe haven she’d carved out as a slave, the place she returned when she desperately needed to lock away her emotions. But it wasn’t there anymore. She’d done too much in therapy to ease her need for such an escape. Panic had her frozen in his grasp, not that it mattered. Yelling, kicking, biting—all were impossible at that point. “See, she just needed—” The second man’s words were cut off, but Hope couldn’t see or think clearly enough to know what happened until her captor was ripped from her as well. She stood unmoving as two bouncers struggled to cuff the men. A third newcomer lingered in the shadows, his stance exuding pissed-off vibes the way only a strong Dominant could. Hope wanted to stay out of his way. “C’mon, assholes, you’ve got a date with Mistress Melina,” one bouncer said. The Dom nodded at them and the bouncers perp-walked the assholes into the main room. She didn’t envy them their discussion with Mistress Melina, who could turn from total sweetheart to a vicious bitch in an instant. Kept people on their toes, she said. Hope begged for the man to walk away and let her recover her equilibrium in peace. Instead, he eased closer. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, making every muscle shiver. Her eyes fluttered closed and she focused on slow, deep breathing, as she’d been taught. Arizona had truly changed her for the better, inside and out. And those physical changes might just save her from this encounter. Her face looked more sculpted now from the weight she’d lost. The broken nose—the product of hazarding her mother’s convulsions to hold her down—only made it more foreign. And with her hair darkened and bobbed, glasses gone, even she sometimes looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize herself. With that and the time between their last encounter, she knew few people from her past would easily recognize her either. “Are you all right?” the man rumbled. A hand landed on her shoulder and she flinched against the contact before it was pulled back.

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That little contact was enough for his scent to waft past her nose and Hope was jarred from reaching a state of calm. Her eyes shot open. She knew those arms, covered in tattoos. Some old, some new. “Miss?” She knew that voice too, dammit. Her legs gave out. One shock too many. The man scooped her up against his work-muscled chest. He carried her to the darkened room that had been vacated by the Master Assholes. No, no, no, her mind chanted, but there would be no escaping this fiasco. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling the familiar, heart-rending smell of Gabriel Cassidy. Mel’s insistence on meeting on Saturday made complete sense now, damned interfering woman. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, just wanting him to leave before she was ensnared once again by the Dom who’d showed her kindness then broken her heart. “I’d just like some time to compose myself, if that’s all right. I’m here for a meeting with Mistress Melina,” she whispered, hoping he wouldn’t recognize her voice. A small, treacherous part of her, however, was a little hurt that he didn’t recognize her behind her updated appearance. “And you thought you’d find a good meeting place in one of the playrooms?” He deposited her on a couch and stood over her, arms crossed. She bristled but kept her face averted. “We were supposed to meet in her office, but she’s still in the Victorian room.” She sighed, wanting to get the hell out of the club but needing Mel’s business. He snorted. “Play session probably ran long, knowing Melina.” She watched out of the corner of her eye as he walked to the door and looked each way down the hall before standing sentinel against the doorframe. “How about you wait here and I’ll check to see if she’s almost done.” The last thing she wanted was a favor from Gabe. “You’ve been lovely, thank you for your help, but really, I’m fine, you don’t need to concern yourself—” “Yes, I do,” he said from the door. She imagined his forehead wrinkling in concern as she’d seen far too often during their fights. The fights she’d picked with him. Guilt ate at her. “Besides,” he said, “I have to stay to see Melina’s reaction to the situation with those two jerk offs. It’ll be priceless.” The first set of lights flicked on, giving the room a soft glow. Though the couch didn’t face the door, the whole opposite wall was mirrored, giving her an open view of Gabe’s every move.

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She scanned the room’s reflection, anything to take her mind off the broad shoulders so protectively blocking the door. This was the “office playroom”, complete with a large oak desk, filing cabinets and whiteboard. Oh, and hooks galore to hang rope, floggers, crops… Her heartbeat rose. Gabe flipped on the rest of the lights and Hope forgot to breathe. Fully illuminated, he looked even more delicious than he had before, and she was only getting his reflection. A full-on view might give her a heart attack. Gabe’s head poked out the door and into the hall once again, allowing her to peruse his reflection at her temporary leisure. He’d shaved his head, but the hair was making a stubbly comeback. Hope would have rued the loss of his soft black hair but—damn. He looked fierce, and the goatee he sported only added to the look. Hope had never been one to like the facial-hair, shaved-head combo, but Gabe wore it like a pro. He had on black slacks and a tight black T-shirt that hugged the muscles he’d earned from hours of leather working and welding. His black motorcycle boots showed wear from being well used, but had been recently shined. Gabe radiated power and control. The clothes were just window dressing, but oh hell did they dress him nicely. He’d either gained more muscle since she’d last seen him or her memories were shoddy, because he looked more ripped than before. She wouldn’t put it past her subconscious to downplay how fit he’d been in order to protect her tender post-breakup heart. One arm propped him up from the doorframe as he leaned out of the room, and that position made his muscled torso bulge. God, she wanted to trace with her tongue along every muscle-cut line she could see and all the ones she couldn’t. Arms and back and abs and thighs were corded with muscle, and he still had an ass made for fantasizing. He’d always made her feel so petite and delicate. And protected, at least until the end. His gaze flicked to the mirror, and she looked down at her shoes to avoid meeting his reflected eyes, sneaking glances the whole time. “Why are you meeting with Mistress Melina?” Nosy. Demanding. She answered anyway. “She hired me to redecorate the club, top to bottom.” His back straightened and he cocked his head in curiosity, an inquisitive look he’d given her over and over during their short time together. “Interior designer?” “Just started my own company.” She really didn’t want to be dropping clues about herself, but her control—as always in Gabe’s presence—was consumed by his desires. And he wanted answers. “Congratulations. Tough stuff, starting your own company. I’m actually in the same boat. Leather goods, not décor.” He gave a little smile then turned to look at her in the mirror once more with a studious wrinkle in his brow. He shook his head, then turned and left without another word.

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She paced the room in his absence, trying to decide whether to leave or stay when a voice cleared behind her. She straightened and turned, shoulders tight. Their eyes met and his face went hard. “What the holy hell are you doing here?”

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Chapter Two

Gabe’s lips thinned and his dark brown eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, somewhere mysterious where no one from your prior life knows your location?” That kind of snark had been her territory, not his. You have no clue where he’s been or what he’s done or who he is now. The idea stabbed her heart with little spikes of sadness. “I’m back.” She paused, crossing her arms and legs as she leaned against the mirrored wall. The words seemed inadequate but she was so not prepared to have The Talk with Gabe. “Gabe, I really am fine. You can go back to whatever you were doing. Thank you for the save.” Hope looked down and repressed a grimace, not liking the thought of him being at the club to top some chick. Or, even worse, being there with his submissive. His boots filled her vision. Guess he wasn’t leaving as she’d wanted. His insistence on doing things his way hadn’t changed. She trailed her eyes upward, enjoying the sight even as her heart and head warred over how damnably vulnerable this situation could leave her. And that damn scent, so purely Gabe. It had haunted her for weeks after she’d left and would do the same now that she’d smelled him again. “Hope, what were you thinking, getting involved with those men?” She flicked her attention to his face. His jaw was tight and lines of anger radiated from his eyes. “With them? No. They decided in the hall that I was too uppity for a ‘slave’ and wanted to teach me a lesson.” She shuddered, too overwhelmed by the evening’s events to suppress it. Gabe snorted. “Sounds like the Hope I knew, full of fire and rebellion.” Her spine straightened at the frustration in his voice. He turned, and she half hoped Gabe would leave. Instead, he grabbed a chair from against the mirror and plopped it in front of her. He straddled its hardwood seat, leaning his muscled forearms on the short metal back. “Hey, don’t lay this shit on me. The jackass is a Super-Uber-Dom. Even called me ‘slave’. What a douche.” “I see your mouth hasn’t improved at all,” he said. “I’m surprised your Dom hasn’t disciplined it out of you.”

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Her eyes narrowed. “What Dom? I haven’t even been to a club in years, and you know how much I hate stupid Tops.” She scoffed. “Little boys playing king of the castle. It’s pathetic, really.” She jutted her chin at him. “And my mouth is more than fine, as you damn well recall.” He smirked. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten that, baby. But you seem to have trouble recalling that all work and no play makes Hope a very stressed-out girl.” “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been just lovely.” In a flash, he had her pressed against the mirror, one hand pinning her wrists against the cool surface. She’d not realized just how close he was sitting until that point. Her heart kicked into overdrive and her mouth went dry. Wetness trickled from between her thighs. Damn him for knowing how to push her hot buttons. “Don’t you lie to me, Hope O’Shea.” His voice held a familiar warning. “You need a good topping, I can see it in your eyes. And don’t get me started on what your hard nipples say you need, cara.” Gabe had a big Italian family from his mother’s side, and that word had become his sole term of endearment for her. Damn him. He always managed to croon that word, his deep, rumbling voice caressing her heart into almost melting for him. She struggled against his hands, wanting to hurt him, wanting to hold him. “You…you asshole, you have no right telling me what I need.” He pressed his body to hers until she had no way of moving. His words tickled her sensitive earlobe. “You know I’m right. I can still read you.” He rubbed against her. “Can you read me?” The thickness of his erection burned through her slacks, and even as her mind rebelled against it, arousal primed her body. “So you have a cock. Big fucking deal.” He nibbled her earlobe and laughed, the vibrations tingling through her body. “Nice try, pussycat. All growl, no claws because you want me too.” Eyelids heavy, she fought against the tempting lust. “I made that mistake once. Never again. No more Doms, no more kink.” His brow crinkled and he rubbed a hand across his chest as if he’d pulled a muscle or something. He lifted her from the floor, pulling her legs around his waist, opening her to him. She should have stopped him, but it felt so good after years of celibacy. “As I recall, it was far more than ‘once’. And it wasn’t all bad, cara.” He brushed his cheek against hers, the rough hairs of his goatee a sensual abrasion against her skin. “You left me with so many unanswered questions.” She needed to find a way out of this, and soon, before lust hogtied her logic and she did something she’d really regret. That soothing blankness, of knowing she’d turned over all control to someone else, someone she trusted, beckoned her. But she didn’t trust him anymore.

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Hope pulled on every bit of anger toward Gabe that she could still muster at the moment. “Boofucking-hoo. Not my problem anymore.” Though part of her wanted it to be. She’d come to terms with her role in the downfall of their budding relationship, learned from her mistakes, but that didn’t mean it would be wise to let him in again. “Again with the language. Maybe you need something else to occupy your dirty mouth.” He kissed her, their lips meeting as if it had been two minutes, not two years since their last kiss. His mouth, warm and wet, tasted of peppermint and that flavor uniquely Gabe’s. She’d been addicted to it once upon a time. They say just one taste can pull an addict back from abstinence and Hope couldn’t risk it. She tore her mouth away and struggled until he set her down and took a step back. “That was bad, very bad. You had no right.” Pacing to clear her head and put some space between them, she walked the length of the mirror and back, feeling Gabe’s eyes on her the whole time. He interrupted her whirring thoughts. “So Jax—you met him a few times, here actually—has invited me to go to Maison Domine this weekend. First month back in Cali, and he’s got me socializing once again.” She froze and stared at him, thrown by the change of topic. But she shed her confusion when his words registered. “The Maison Domine? And yes, I remember Jaxon. And his Lara.” He’d resumed his seat in the chair, looking casual and relaxed. But she recognized the tension in his eyes, the pupils dilated from lust. “Yes, cara, that one.” Heat rippled through her at the nickname. “And I seem to be in a bit of a pickle.” “Is that so?” “Yes. And I think you can help me. I’ll be helping you in return.” Wary, she nodded for him to continue. He patted the back of the chair. “Come stand here and we can talk.” Step by anxious step, she drew closer, feeling like Little Red Riding Hood. My, what a big cock you have. “Tell me about this trade you have in mind.” She reached him and he wrapped his arms around her thighs, keeping her in close to him. With her heels, she managed to have a couple inches on his sitting form. Not much, and without them, he’d be within perfect kissing height. “You’ve lost weight.” His voice sounded accusing. “I hope you’re taking care of yourself.” She shrugged, knowing he wouldn’t be content with her explanation. Knowing him, he’d take her to the nearest smoothie place and make her drink a protein shake. His controlling, caring ways had driven her nuts even as they made her feel cherished.

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Part of her knew this little interlude could tear through her hard-won centeredness, but that voice of responsibility was shouted down by her hormones. Though her relationship with Gabe had been a failure, the sex had always been spectacular. She ran a hand through the stubble on his scalp. “Why’d you cut your hair? And where have you been the past two years?” “I could ask you the same thing.” She nailed him with a glare and refused to answer. He rolled his eyes. “It kept falling into my face while I was working.” He ignored her second question. Alrighty then. His hands traveled up and down her thighs, sensitizing her flesh. Her fingers, with a mind of their own, continued their tactile exploration of his scalp. Having his strong hands touch her again calmed her soul. Oh fuck. Laughter in the hall made her jump back from his embrace just before Melina slinked in, pout on her bright red lips. Her hair was red this week and she wore her trademark white leather minidress and thighhigh gladiator heels. “Hope, my dear, I’m so sorry for those brutes. I keep telling my boy that we need better screening of clients, but he’s the business brains behind the operation, so when he says that it would be a bad idea, I listen. After this, maybe he’ll be singing another tune.” Her lively face shifted to glee. “Oh, maybe I can punish him for the decision, and then punish him for changing his mind and being fickle!” Her wicked laugh had Hope split between compassion and jealousy for Melina’s subbie boy. Melina shifted her gaze to Gabe, who had stood to face the door. “Well hello, Gabe. And why aren’t you at the booth you’re renting from me? Go, sell your wares! Your new shop won’t advertise itself. Oh hell, your creations are so divine they very well could.” “I didn’t get to congratulate you on your new business earlier,” Hope said, trying to keep her tone light. “Yeah, you and I hadn’t quite gotten to all the formalities.” His voice held a mocking edge. “Melina was kind enough to let me set up a small showcase in the main room.” He turned to Mel. “And I have my assistant running it. She’s completely capable, I assure you.” Hope wondered how much this bimbo assisted him with before she reminded herself that Gabe meant nothing to her anymore. Must be the hormones. And the stress. Even she didn’t believe herself on that one, which meant she stood in dangerous territory. “Well, Melina, are you available now to go over your design plans? It’ll be a welcome respite from tonight’s excitement.” “Oh, you poor thing. Now is just fine. The bouncers can keep those men on ice in the laundry room— cramped and hot is what they deserve, I’d say. I can’t tell you how excited I am to be your first client!” She

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turned to Gabe. “Darling, if you will escort Hope to my office, I’ll be right along. Thank you for watching after her for me.” She gave him a coy smile. “You know I live to serve, Mistress Melina,” Gabe deadpanned. “You, my dear, are ever the charmer. Now scoot along. And give my love to that beautiful assistant of yours.” With that, she breezed out, leaving things more awkward than they had been when she entered. The evening’s frustration, coupled with hearing about Gabe’s “beautiful” assistant, had Hope struggling to keep the ire from her voice. “So why don’t you just take your lovely assistant with you to Maison Domine? I’m sure you’d have a lovely weekend.” His smirk made her want to slap him—or kiss him. “Miffed, are we?” Hope couldn’t help but growling. “What ‘miffs’ me is you thinking you still know me.” She turned to leave but Gabe blocked her way. “We’re done here,” she bit out before moving around him. Gabe stopped her with a hand around her neck. He put just enough pressure to make her knees give out beneath her. Damn him for remembering. He pulled her against him with one arm wrapped around her back. “But, cara, you haven’t even heard my proposition yet.” Suspicion almost washed away the lust coursing through her veins, but Gabe kept her off balance with a tender kiss to her forehead. His tenderness took the edge out of her voice. “Then tell me.” “Come to Maison with me this weekend. All I want is time to talk with you. You left so suddenly, not to mention you disobeyed by leaving before we’d talked things over.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I still owe you spankings for that.” Hope couldn’t help but shudder. Gabe could spank her to both tears and orgasm—sometimes both together. And he always knew which one she needed, even before she realized it herself. “That’s…not fair.” Her eyes fluttered closed, weighed down by lust. “But I can’t, I have to work,” she gritted out. All her time needed to go into her current projects and to finding new clients. He sighed and stepped back from her. “It just so happens that the owner of Maison Domine wants to have the place redecorated. Must be something in the kinky waters because she and Melina aren’t the only ones, either.” He had her attention now. “Katrina and I are good friends. I could recommend you for the job. And a handful of others.” She needed his connections. “That would be very kind of you.” She licked her lips, nervous yet seeing the value of his proposition.

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He brushed a thumb across the dampened spot on her bottom lip. “Of course, you’d need to come with me this weekend to meet her and check out the site. I remember you like evaluating your clients’ needs face-to-face, or at least you did when you worked for a company.” And that was the kicker. “If that’s your proposed agreement—I come to the club and you introduce us—then what’s in it for you?” “Me? Why, I’ll have you at Maison for the weekend.” His feral grin made her heart jump. He’d always worn that look before a good bout of discipline. She started to protest, but he cut her off. “I know, I know, no promises beyond talking. I’m okay with that.” Jerk, still being able to finish—hell, start—her sentences. But despite all her internal red flags, he had her by the pocketbook. She needed this job. “Are you in?” He drew closer, the fire in his chocolate eyes mesmerizing her. God, she shouldn’t, but she’d rarely been able to defy the force of his personality, not that she’d ever wanted to. His dominance had meant fewer things for which she had to be responsible in her already stressed-out life. And he’d been gentle, caring, earning her trust. Until their final night… And that thought sprayed icy-cold water over her lust. “Gabe—” He pulled her into the circle of his arms. It felt so good to be there again, like coming home. “Give me—us—this weekend. Your business deserves it, at the very least,” he said, his chin resting on her head. Dominant Gabe, she might have been able to resist. Tender Gabe? She was a goner. “We should talk about what happened.” His whispered words had her struggling against his strong arms. The possibility of that conversation pressed against her like a giant weight. But he had a point…maybe. “This is a really bad idea.” “You can leave whenever you like, and I’ll still give the owner your referral.” How could she refuse that? “Yes.” The unspoken ‘Sir’ vibrated through the room. “I’ll meet you up there Friday night. Since I know you changed your contact information, give me your card and I’ll email you details and directions.” She pulled the slim business card case out of her jacket pocket and handed him one, warmed by his admission that he’d tried to contact her. He nodded and said, “I’ll see you Friday.” One final heated look and he was gone, leaving her weakkneed and wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

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Chapter Three

Friday afternoon snuck up on Gabe. Opening the shop had him buried under work, which made the days pass faster than he and his brother consumed Nana’s garlic bread. The club would be a welcome reprieve from real life. The drive to Maison Domine never failed to impress him, and his shoulders relaxed beneath his black motorcycle jacket. High in the mountains of the San Fernando Valley, the club sat far enough from Los Angeles to feel like an escape, yet not too far for a motorcycle ride. Roads curved and wove through the foothills and occasionally revealed glimpses of the sprawling LA metro area below. Once he drove high enough, blue sky and patches of greenery dominated the view. Last year’s fires had left their mark—swathes of mountainside were burned, but snippets of plants were making a comeback, their sprouts poking through the soil. He caught sight of a few red-tailed hawks and a kestrel, their graceful soars and swoops impressive even after so many years of bird watching. Hope had gone with him a few times, just as entranced by the different species of birds as he. Tension crawled back into his chest, along with an echo of pain from their breakup. If he could call it that. A bad night together, a mistake on his part, true, but something they should have worked through together. And when he went to visit her the next day, her apartment window held a For Lease sign. She’d kept that from him, that and ghosts from her past that he still hadn’t identified. Part of him, that blasted optimist, thought maybe she’d changed, maybe she would be more open with him now. Maybe she’d stop keeping secrets. That would go a long way toward rebuilding trust. In a kinky relationship, too much could go wrong without proper communication, and he needed the assurance that his sub was enjoying and benefiting from his ministrations, especially during a scene. He scoffed at the ridiculous thoughts as he took a hairpin curve around the mountainside. Hope may not even give him a chance to touch her this weekend, much less do anything that would require trust between them. He’d had to bribe her just to talk with him. Trust might be asking too much. Hell, it had been two years ago. He’d seen the effects of that firsthand on their final night together. He gripped the handlebars tighter, his gloved hands digging into the rubber-covered cylinders. Revving the engine, he sped up, needing the momentary thrill to clear his mind.

Skylar Kade

Curve after curve swooped by and nothing mattered but the pavement and the world flying by outside his tinted visor. Losing himself in the rumble of his Harley and the classical music piping through this helmet speakers, Gabe resolved to use the weekend as closure, for better or worse. An hour after leaving Sherman Oaks, he came to the modest side road marked only with a sign reading MD. He turned right onto the asphalt and was, once again, glad he had a motorcycle. Trees loomed tight to the snug single-lane road. Though their high canopy provided much-needed shade during the summer, they made it a bitch to clear the snowfall during the colder months. Gabe laughed, recalling the time Hope had lost her passenger-side mirror driving down a one-way street tight with parked cars on both sides. Hopefully the trees would not exact the same revenge. At last, he broke into a large clearing. To the right sat Maison Domine in all its sprawling log cabin glory, to the left, parking, and past all of it—nothing. Maison topped one of the smaller mountain ledges, affording a priceless view of the foothills, and beyond them, the valley. The sunset compelled his attention, and Gabe regretted not being able to photograph it. He’d decided to leave his camera equipment at home, lest Hope’s gorgeous body tempted him to take sexy, erotic pictures of her. He imagined bringing Hope out there, wearing nothing but his collar and cuffs, the sky reflecting its colors onto her pale, pale skin. The insistent erection he’d had since last Saturday night throbbed in anticipation. “Down, boy. Sex is not part of the deal. Talking only.” Yeah, his cock definitely wasn’t listening. Sex with Hope had always been mind-blowing. Her body fit against his perfectly, her every curve pressed against him. And she was so tight. He growled, part lust and part frustration. She’d used sex to keep distance between them, to keep things casual. Intimacy had been one of her hard limits, as he’d learned the hard and lonely way. Now he had a second chance with her, and it wouldn’t be wasted. A smart man might not push her comfort zone this weekend, but he was born too stubborn for that. He would take from her all that he could coerce or seduce—they owed each other that much. And he needed to see if she was the same scared little rabbit putting on a show of bravado that she had been before. She’d certainly changed her appearance a lot. His chest constricted. She’d been beautiful when they’d first met, but…damn. She was a knockout now. He liked his women curvy but lean, and while Hope had lost some weight, her ass and thighs still made his mouth water. And her breasts, lush and creamy, had made his tongue tingle from wanting to taste them. Well, what he could see of them in her buttoned-up suit. His imagination had taken that little line of cleavage and zipped off to la-la land. It would be a challenge. But he didn’t like taking the easy road. With a predatory grin, he parked and surveyed the other cars there. He recognized many of them from years ago. He also noted Jax and Lara’s swanky new Tessla Roadster, which meant his duffel would be here. The couple had offered to tote his toy bag there and back so he could ride the Harley.

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His Only Hope

He’d wanted the bag, just in case. Speaking of Hope, her dark gray SUV glimmered from the end of the row. Despite being a earlymodel car she’d owned for years, it looked brand new. Never let it be said the woman didn’t take care of her possessions. She detailed the car every Sunday morning and relentlessly cleaned dirt and crumbs from the floor mats. Even the wheels and hubcaps shone. At least that much about her hadn’t changed. As he unbuckled his helmet, Gabe let out a sigh. Maybe this time they’d stop hiding from each other. Or at least, maybe she’d stop hiding from him and come to terms with whatever intimacy issues she had. Gabe had made peace with his own fucked-up past long ago—it wasn’t relevant anymore and didn’t need to be shared. A few buckles and snaps later, his saddlebags popped free. He headed toward the huge club building and marveled once again at Kat’s business acumen, turning this former camp retreat into one of the premier BDSM clubs in America. She’d been an invaluable friend for years, even when he’d lived in Boston for his glassblowing apprenticeship. Gabe hightailed it to the entrance, pulse kicking up with every step, and entered the lobby. The browns and greens, the simple decor, the openness of the interior, all made him breathe more easily. Some of the tension sloughed from his shoulders and he took a deep breath, catching the pine scent always present, mixed with the faint smell of food. “Kat?” he called out, knowing she wouldn’t be too far off. Friday nights, she played hostess. Saturday and Sunday, she played…whatever she wanted. Her brunette head poked over the third-story railing that ringed the main room. “Gabriel?” She always used his full name, her rolling French accent making short work of the syllables. “Mon ami, I have only now finished preparing your room—perfect timing, oui? Bring your bags up. It is going to be a full weekend, but I made sure you would have your usual room, even after two years. I know how you hate change.” He hit the staircase to his left, taking the steps two at a time. The oak flooring of the third story creaked under his heavy boots as he made his way to the far end of the hall where his room overlooked the cliff and had a perfect vantage point for sunsets. Not to mention the private balcony that provided inspiration for a dozen naughty ideas. The sheer space of the suite gave two dozen more. Half the top floor housed her office and apartment. The rest was divided into two suites—coveted weekend rooms. He was touched that Kat had reserved one for him. Katrina lingered outside his open door. Nosy woman, figured she’d have questions about the first woman he’d ever brought to Maison. Her gaze flickered down to his crotch. “Happy to see me?” She arched her brow and barely restrained a smile. “Or is that for the darling Hope O’Shea I finally had the pleasure of meeting? You talked about her so often before you left, but you and she never visited the club. I guess you will not be aiding other Doms this weekend, and I know many a sub will be sorely disappointed.

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They still talk about you longingly, some of them.” She gestured into the open door. “Come, put your bags down and join the group for drinks and food. Hope is already down there, making friends without you. Who knows who she could meet?” He stopped dead at her words and turned back to Kat, who had been following him in. “Meet?” Her sly look made him wary. “Oh Gabriel, you know how beautiful women attract attention, and there are quite a few unattached Dominants here this weekend. And if you recall from your past visits, beautiful women alone are—how do you say—jackpot here.” “Well, that’s not going to happen. Hope is here as my guest.” He pivoted and continued into the room. The plush carpet muffled his footsteps as he walked past the kitchenette to unceremoniously drop his bags next to the dark brown couch of the “entertainment room”, as Kat liked to call it. She sat at the table for two in the kitchenette, making herself at home. “She is your guest, of course, but so far as I have seen, you and she had no official arrangements.” He ground his teeth, surely making his dentist shudder. “She knows the deal.” He stalked into the bedroom to check on the bag Jax should have left there. His toy bag sat on the expanse of Cal-King mattress, mocking him to get a move on with Hope. Katrina laughed, the sound filtering through the open French doors that separated the bedroom from the rest of the suite. “Gabriel, your self-assurance is so cute! All I know is that a stunning woman is downstairs having hors d’oeuvres, one who arrived by herself without any weekend agreement or marks of possession. And every Top—male and female—looking for play partners this weekend knows that too.” “Shit.” He ran a hand through the barely there stubble on his head and scratched his goatee. Too much of the past needed to be hashed out before playing. Gabe had hoped to catch her before the festivities started and take measure of the situation, but of course Hope would have arrived early—she didn’t have a late gene in her body. The best laid plans of mice and men… “What was that, darling?” Kat stood in the doorway, amused look still on her face. “Let me change into something less windblown and I’ll meet you down there.” He started rummaging through his bag for his black slacks and Under Armor. The athletic shirts were perfect for a long, physical evening. Wishful thinking, yeah. “Gabriel, there are other unattached submissives downstairs. And more than a few couples who would like to scene with you again. After all, how well do you really know Hope after two years?” Katrina shook her head and pieces of brown hair fell into her eyes. She swiped it aside with a flick and continued. “To get so worked up over a long-past ex…” Gabe, clothes in hand, faced Katrina. “Okay, woman, enough digging for information. Let me change so I can spend some quality time getting to know her again.”

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Katrina shot him an insouciant wave and made her way out. He followed her to the doorway to the suite. “Difficult wench. I’ll pray for the Dom that tries to tame you,” he called to her retreating form. He shut the door and changed clothes before returning to his backpack. From inside the front zipper pouch, he pulled two blue boxes. The smaller one he set aside to take downstairs with him. The larger one should have stayed in his workshop. Maybe he was the masochist, and not Hope. He lifted the lid. A collar—more of a necklace, really—lay stretched out like a living metal vine crawling across the velvety box. Small green leaves, the color of Hope’s eyes, unfurled from the silver stem that formed the necklace’s core. Larger cream-colored flowers dotted the front of the vine, and at the center of each one lay an amethyst, Hope’s February birthstone. It was the most beautiful piece he’d ever created, but it had never left his workshop. After Hope left him, he’d worked like a maniac to create the collar, not knowing he’d ever see her again or that they’d both return to LA. Hers was the first metal collar he’d ever made. It had been a compulsion he could not ignore and it had helped to purge some of his frustration and longing. Now it only taunted him with things he couldn’t have. Gabe sighed and snapped the lid closed, tucking the box into his backpack. He popped open the smaller box and took out the small chain mail and leather cuff before slipping the jewelry into the pocket of his slacks. A quick roll of his shoulders to shake off a bit of tension and he left, braced for whatever Hope might throw at him this weekend. At the bottom of the basement stairs stretched a door-lined hall. The last one on the right held the only room big enough to gather all the guests, so that’s where the meals and meet and greets took place. The room looked like a four-star restaurant and the food matched, thanks to a talented local chef. Tables for two and four peppered the middle while a few round eight-person tables sat on the outskirts. All had white tablecloths and fresh flowers in the middle. Two walls had high, opaque windows, letting in natural light into the otherwise fluorescent basement. The playrooms down here each had at least one window, a welcome change from almost every public or private club he’d visited. Sunlight just never went with that dungeon-y feel. Maison Domine didn’t need darkness to get its Doms and subs in the mood. He scanned for Hope and found her at one of the larger tables, sitting with several men and one collared woman. Hope was engrossed in conversation with one of the men, who looked too interested in her. His dark hair almost hit his shoulders and he was dressed so casually he almost looked out of place, something remedied by the confidence radiating off him. Gabe didn’t like his body language. His possessive instincts rose until he remembered he had no real claim over Hope. He needed closure and answers, not a second go at their relationship. Sure, and I’m

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Mary-fucking-Poppins. He tuned out the voice before the bastard insinuated something Gabe didn’t want to hear. He made his way over to the table and, lucky for the men already there, one of the few unoccupied chairs was next to Hope. Well, a purse lay on the seat, but that was an easy enough fix. Gabe plucked it up and set it down on the table, taking its place. Hope glanced over, then turned toward him and scowled. “You know, I was saving that seat.” “Thank you, Hope. How considerate, holding a place for me.” He grinned and her frown deepened. She heaved an angry sigh—oh, he still recognized that one—and he wanted to kiss away her frustration. Kiss her cheeks, her forehead, her lips, and…on that bump in the middle of her nose. Where had she gotten that? His body surged in demand, needing to know who’d broken her nose and why. It looked just like his mother’s had, and that memory just didn’t sit well with him. “Whatever you say, Gabe,” she retorted before returning to her conversation. He didn’t like that one bit, but it did pull him back from those black memories and give him a chance think about something far more pleasant. Though she wore a simple sleeveless blouse and blue jeans, the fabric hugged her curves like it was lingerie. Her new, dark red hair framed her face and floated around her chin in soft curls, and Gabe was sorely tempted to grab one and see if she still used the same lavender shampoo that always drove him crazy. No way would he let some random guy flirt with Hope when she looked so hot. He leaned around her to the other man and offered his hand, getting a dizzying whiff of her delicious hair in the process. Yep, still lavender. His groin tightened, and he almost forgot what he was doing until the other man took his hand. “Gabe,” he growled, thoughts returning to reality. “Hope’s my guest for the weekend.” He made sure to grip the man’s hand enough to emphasize his words. “Jovan,” the man replied, his eyes narrowing at Gabe’s handshake warning. “And Hope was just telling me she’s here to discuss business with Katrina.” The man had a foreign accent, the kind women tended to drool all over. He needed to get Hope away from him, stat. Gabe dropped Jovan’s hand and slung his arm across the back of Hope’s seat. “Cara, why are you telling lies?” he whispered before growling in her ear, “Are you looking for a spanking?” Her sharp inhale was oh so satisfying. How he’d missed flirting with her, walking that fine edge between turning her on and pissing her off. He did it just to see that fire in her eyes. Those endless green eyes blazed with anger when she turned toward him, but Gabe also noted the flush in her cheeks and her choppy breath. “Gabriel, don’t you dare,” she hissed.

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“Don’t I dare what, cara?” He drew his other hand up to cup her cheek. “This?” He captured her mouth in a brief kiss and pulled back just in time to see her face go nuclear with anger. “Why you—” He stopped her with another kiss, longer this time, and she melted against him, just a little. Gabe wanted her pliant, off balance. They had to talk in private, about unpleasant things, and she’d keep putting it off unless he gave her no other choice. Gabe knew she’d agreed to the weekend for the sake of meeting Kat, but he wouldn’t let her intentions get in the way of his, for both their sakes. He could see the little signs of stress, her bitten fingernails, the growing bags under her eyes, things he’d learned to be wary of during their short, intense relationship. Hope needed release, and Gabe needed to talk her into it before the stress hurt her. Again. Delicate, slim arms wrapped around his neck and his cock sat up and took notice. His chest constricted. She needed a keeper, dammit, someone who could handle her idiosyncrasies. If only she’d open up to him… She ripped her mouth from his and rested her forehead on his chest. “Hope, cara, I brought you something.” “Mmm?” she questioned from her position against him. Gabe glanced at Jovan. The man nodded curtly in understanding. Good. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the cuff, setting it on the table where she—and the rest of the table—could see it. Hope stiffened against him and lifted away from his chest. Frustration lined her face. “No. I’m here for business, not pleasure.” “Your kiss said otherwise.” She flapped her long, slim hand at him. “Momentary estrogen poisoning. It won’t happen again.” He wanted to laugh at her attempted denial. Jovan did, and Gabe shot the man a silencing look that half-worked. She scooted back from him and her expression turned so serious that Gabe wanted to hold her and promise everything would be okay. “I need this contract, Gabe. And you—you are too distracting for my own good.” “Hope, I promise you will not leave this weekend without your referral. But I also told you what I wanted from you and I intend to get it, sooner rather than later.” She opened her mouth, looking for all the world as if she were about to ream him one, then paused. Standing, she turned to the rest of the table and said, “Excuse me. I seem to have lost my appetite.”

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Chapter Four

Jovan’s eyes tracked her out then looked to Gabe. “Careful there, amigo. She might be more woman than you can handle.” He smirked and Gabe’s lip curled in response before he rose to follow Hope’s exit. The guests scattered around the room, many of whom he knew from before, took a veiled interest in the events. From the opposite side of the room, Jax threw him a questioning look that seemed more admonishment than concern. Okay, so maybe Hope had the right idea in leaving—their conversation was bound to get heated. He pulled open the solid oak door and walked into the hall. Though there were lights studding the walls like a trail of taillights on the highway, he still needed to let his eyes adjust from the dining room’s fluorescent brightness. A flash of movement on the edge of his vision drew his attention to a red door slipping closed. He scanned the hall to make sure Hope wasn’t lingering farther down then rapped on the door. “This room is occupied.” Definitely Hope’s voice. He turned the knob and pushed at the door, giving himself a few inches of open air to speak. “Hope, baby, I know you’re in here.” A growl barely reached his ears. He loved the sexy rumble that rolled from the back of her throat when she was frustrated. “Go away, Gabriel. You don’t own me anymore.” He grimaced. “I never owned you. You were on loan.” Since she hadn’t kicked him out yet, he pushed the door open another inch and slipped into the dark room, letting the door whisper shut behind him. A thick curtain had been pulled over the window. Indistinct shapes loomed in the corners of the room, which had changed since his last visit. He could identify the bed, and possibly Hope’s shape curled on top of it. “On loan?” she finally answered. “From whom?” Clothing scraped together from somewhere near the bed, drawing him one step closer. The memories weighed heavily on his chest. “From yourself, cara. I knew I couldn’t keep you, so I made the best of what we had.” His self-deprecating laugh echoed through the room, bouncing back to mock him. “Or at least I tried to.” He took another step forward.

His Only Hope

“Why did you even bother trying to make me open up then?” “You ask that like I had a choice. I was your Dom, I needed to get into your head. Learn about your past and how it shaped you.” He scraped a hand across the back of his head. He’d need a haircut soon. If all went poorly, he could schedule one for tomorrow. The thought didn’t help. “Gabe…” Her sigh beckoned him closer to the bed. Now he could make out a darker form huddled against the headboard amid a frothing sea of pillows. Great, Hope just had to be in the Victorian-themed room. Kat liked to rearrange the settings to keep the rooms interesting, but why did she have to bring this one back? It was too frilly for his tastes. Give him a bed, cuffs and a willing woman. He didn’t need all the accessories and toys packed into this room, though some of them could be fun. The room’s shadowy shapes coalesced into real objects as his eyes adjusted further to the darkness. The four-poster bed that sported restraints already at each corner. The stocks opposite the bed and the adjacent throne, both perfect for spanking. Maybe the room wasn’t so bad, minus the lace and ribbons adorning the bedspread and pillows. A rustle of the comforter drew his attention back to the bed. “I guess there’s no more avoiding this conversation.” “You’ve got that right. Hope, you left me with so many questions to ask. And apologies to give.” She groaned. “Don’t try to take all the blame for this. I made my share of mistakes too. “Our relationship wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t all rubbish.” Her voice small, she said, “No, I guess it wasn’t all bad. The first month, at least.” He didn’t ask for, or want, clarification on that as he sat on the edge of the bed. Hope tucked her head down to her knees, her shoulders rigid. He hoped she wasn’t crying. He’d hold her through her tears, of course, but they flashed him back to childhood when his mother cried herself to sleep every night and all he could do was listen through the wall and try not to cry himself. Which was easy considering how efficiently his father had beat the tears out of him. When she’d cried before, she’d always get so angry at her tears, which only made the situations worse. He needed to break through to her before she started crying. Time to pull out the big guns. “Hope, look at me.” The back of her head shook, her dark cherry hair swaying with the motion. Her shudders got deeper and her sharp, inhaled breaths stabbed him like knives. He snapped his fingers. “Hope. Now.” His voice snapped like a bullwhip. Her head jerked up and her green eyes were glossy with unshed tears. “What?”

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“Tell me why you left the meet and greet.” Her eyes ducked away. He snapped again. “Look at me when you answer.” She obeyed—good. Hope needed the eye contact to remain grounded, as he vividly remembered. He toed off his boots while he waited. Her eyes never broke from his as he scooted closer, framing her body with his knees and taking her cheeks into his hands. “What made you so uncomfortable?” “You,” she whispered. Ouch. He dropped his hands to her knees. “I came here this weekend to meet Katrina. Redesigning Maison Domine would be a huge résumé booster, at least for my kinky clients.” “I’m well aware of that, and I won’t break my promise to you. But if you recall, that was part of an exchange. You and I were to sit down and talk. And I didn’t mean about the weather. We’ve got some unfinished business, cara.” Her body seemed to deflate, all the rigid tension of her muscles melting away and leaving her boneless to slump against the bed. The tears gently falling down her flushed cheeks had him paralyzed until her ragged breathing pulled him out of the stupor. He’d only heard her breathe like that once, right before she passed out from a panic attack. Right after they’d made love for the first, and last, time. They’d fucked, a lot, but never made love. After their last time together, she’d cried and hyperventilated, her tears triggering some of his own panic. He still didn’t fully understand what set off her anxiety, but he knew how to help, this time at least. Gabe had done quite a bit of research after she’d left him. Shifting to lean against the headboard next to Hope, he pulled her into his body and settled her between his legs, ignoring the poorly timed erection that appeared at first contact with her. “Let it out, baby.” He wrapped his arms around her to draw her in closer. “Tell me what’s wrong.” She shook her head, tears dropping onto his arms. “I don’t think so, Gabe. Not happening. We can talk, but later. Just leave me alone now.” Well, that was new and different. He loved her fire, her stubborn anger, but he’d never seen it directed at him. Whenever she’d been sad, lost in her own thoughts, she’d mentally retreat. His heart swelled. She might not open up on her own, but she wasn’t in a meltdown. Good girl. Unfortunately, he knew, even from their short time together, that she’d feel purged after talking about whatever was on her mind. “Hope, speak.” His voice cracked the air. She shuddered in his arms and shook her head more vehemently. “Dammit, Gabe, you can’t go around using your Dommy voice on me. I thought I made it clear—I don’t want or need your help right now.” Tears eased down her cheeks but her voice was lined with steel.

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Her tears could undo him, but he wouldn’t let her down this time. He knew what she needed. Whether she’d resent him for it remained to be seen. In one swift motion, Gabriel pinned her on the mattress beneath his own weight. Her wriggling had blood rushing to his cock, already straining against his jeans. Always in check, always in control. “Gabe, you asshole, don’t even think about it!” He chuckled. A man could get used to that kind of sass, especially if he got to spank a lovely sub ass for it. “You know your safe word. And you know you’re free to use it whenever you want. But until then, you’ll do what I ask.” She struggled more, growling and glaring at him. “Hope, you don’t have a choice in this. And if you curse at me again, I’ll put you over my knee.” She froze and pressed her lips together, though her eyes still flared in anger. He lifted his weight bit by bit to see if she’d move. She didn’t. She looked…resigned, dammit, but at least she seemed ready to share. Or at least what passed as her version of sharing. Reaching toward the top right post, he snagged the attached cuff and bound her wrist before tightening the strap. “How dare you—” He cut her off with a glare and an arch of his eyebrow. “I see you’ve missed being spanked.” Her jaw tightened but she didn’t speak again as he repeated the process until she was spread-eagled on the bed. She was possibly more temptation than he could handle right now, and part of him knew he wasn’t doing this just to get her story, but nothing had felt so right since she’d run off. Making love to her had been like riding his Harley on the open road, freeing and satisfying to the core. He might have been able to forget her if not for that night. He needed to make amends before he could move on. That, and the minor little issue of being in love with her. He stood from the bed. “Hope, why did you leave the dining hall? You know it was disrespectful.” She nodded stiffly but didn’t answer. “So, why would you do something so…disappointing?” She shuddered, and he almost felt bad for using the d-word. But she—they—needed to clear the ugly air and this was a good starting point. She snapped, “I need to keep a professional front around Ms. Lamont. I need this job! Between moving and taking care of-of my business, I’m not exactly flush with money.” She took a deep breath. Her eyes were still wet with unshed tears, though she’d stopped crying. Good.

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Gabe leaned over and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her soft, smooth flesh. “Brava. That’s my good girl.” Caressing her damp cheeks, he said, “Why were you arguing with me in the first place? You know that in a place like this you need to either be open to play or belong to someone. But you will not wear your cuff, not even as a deterrent to other Doms.” He knelt hip to hip with her. “Is your plan to play with some stranger while you’re here?” “No!” She looked away and swallowed, the lean muscles of her throat beckoning his tongue. “Are you sure, because that’s the only answer that makes sense.” “Yeah, that’s me, hussy of the club,” she scoffed. “Gabe, I haven’t been in the scene for two years. Hell, I haven’t even had sex in two years…” Her voice trailed off and her cheeks turned pink. He tried to ignore the implications of that statement. “Well, in that case, the cuff would be a good way to ensure that you’re left alone by other Tops here.” Shuddering, she replied, “Work has to be my only priority.” “I know, cara. I know. But did you ever stop to think that maybe being overworked and stressed might not be good for your health? I remember the sallow look to your skin, the bags under your eyes, the shine missing from your hair in the days leading up to it. You ran yourself ragged working for that design company, and starting your own business is even more stressful. “I won’t let that happen to you again,” “I can take care of myself just fine!” He leaned in. “Then why are you so jumpy around me, little rabbit? You act like a woman who needs release. And I’m offering you that very thing.” “No—no distractions.” He grinned with satisfaction. “Then wearing the cuff fits your needs perfectly. You won’t have to waste a single minute turning down Doms who approach you.” Her mouth opened then snapped shut. “Fine. You got what you wanted, now let me go.” She pulled at the restraints. She didn’t seem to like the look of his grin because she glared at him once again. “I’m not done with you just yet. That only takes care of part of my concerns.” She remained silent. He preemptively began unbuttoning her shirt only to reveal the sexiest black lace bra he’d ever seen. It pushed her breasts together like an offering, and her skin looked even creamier by contrast. He barely stopped himself from kissing every inch of her torso, more from logistics than self-control. He couldn’t get the bra off with her hands bound. “Front closure,” she whispered, face turned away.

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His eyes flashed to her profile and back to the bra. Hot damn. He took her words as encouragement and undid the clasp, revealing her smaller but still shapely breasts. God, his mouth was watering. Her pert, pink nipples begged for his tongue. Somehow he remembered his goal was answers. Arousal could be a means to an end, but nothing more until she ’fessed up. “Where have you been the last two years?” No answer. Her pupils were dilated, her breathing heavy. She wouldn’t admit it—stubborn girl—but she was getting as aroused as he was. He straddled her waist and pinched one breast then the other, turning the skin pink. The tension in her arms eased when he stopped, so he did it again, same spots but harder this time, and her arms strained against the cuffs. “Arizona,” she panted. “Why?” he asked, pinching and holding the skin closer to her nipple this time. “Because…oh God…family issues!” Her nipples were red and erect, her breathing shallow, her cheeks flushed. She was beautiful, all right, but when she was aroused, the woman was a goddess. “Good girl,” he praised before leaning over to kiss the reddened spots on her skin. Why couldn’t she have told him that before she’d left? He knew, from her quick disappearance, that she’d been planning to move for at least a few weeks—almost half their relationship. She hadn’t wanted to include him in her life and that stung. She arched her back, offering herself up to him, and he couldn’t help but groan his approval. Nor could he stop himself from taking one tight nipple between his teeth, despite the ache in his chest. “Gabe, more,” she breathed. He was nothing if not accommodating. The sheets rustled as he adjusted, shifting his weight so he did not crush her. He laved one nipple then the other before stopping. She groaned. “You can’t stop now!” “Try me,” he said, giving her a dead-serious look. “I’ll trade pleasure for answers. Pain, if that’s what you need. But we are going to have this talk now. The talk we should have had the night we made love.” “No…” Her protest faded into a high moan when he straddled her and bit down on the skin of her breast and sucked. He wanted to leave his mark on her. Primal, yes, but he needed it. Which made him think of the ugly scar he’d seen on her thigh the first time they’d made love. The scar he’d ignored for too long in their first relationship, even though he suspected where it had come from.

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At the time, Gabe had hoped it was a recent injury that would eventually heal, hoped that his suspicions were wrong. He’d learned otherwise, knew it would still be ragged and raw, but the knowledge burned in his gut regardless. He skimmed his hand across the spot and Hope froze, shaking her head and silently mouthing “No.” Even now, the scar would have to wait. It was too soon to rehash her past. Instead, he skimmed his nails down her torso, leaving pink trails behind. She shuddered beneath him. “So, you leave for two years without so much as a goodbye. And then, suddenly, you’re back and working like crazy.” She nodded. He leaned down to get in her face. “Why didn’t you tell me anything? I wake up one morning, and you’re gone. I go to your apartment and it was already up for rent. Gotta admit, cara, that was rough.” A tear tracked down her face and he kissed it away. She sobbed, and more tears poured down. There was her catharsis. Good. “Gabe, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for all of it.” Her words were swallowed by sobs, and he stretched out to release the cuffs, wanting to end the session, to hold her while she cried. “No, leave them! I need…” “Then keep talking. You know how good it feels to get it all out.” He rubbed her arms and shoulders, uncomfortable with her tears but knowing they were necessary. He’d done all she needed for now in restraining her, giving small bits of pleasure-pain. Now he had to soothe her while she purged her tension. Not the hardest task, touching her. He smiled. It had always been like that when they were together. He couldn’t keep his hands off her, even if only to rub her neck or hold her hand. She had to be the best contact high in existence. Hell, she kept his demons at bay, a miracle in itself.

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Chapter Five

Hope swallowed her pride because the weight in her chest had gotten so bad of late. Yes, therapy had helped, but Gabe was right—she’d been running herself ragged and not giving herself any outlet for all that tension. Not even her orgasms relieved her like they used to. “I need to talk, Gabe, I do, but I don’t think I can do it alone,” she managed through a throat clogged with tears. She tried to banish them, hating the weakness they represented. She recalled her Master’s voice berating her for her tears until she breathed more steadily. Only Gabe had ever encouraged her to cry, to let it all out. “Two years of therapy, and I still hate talking about my feelings. Hate crying even more.” “Guess leaving taught you something.” He twisted a nipple and hardened his voice. “But that’s not enough.” His hands shot arrows of pain through her body. They purified, cleansed, cleared her mind. With a deep breath, she answered. “My mother was dying.” The idea was still foreign to her, unreal. His lips thinned, but he said nothing. He laid a chaste kiss on her lips, the comforter rustling beneath him, then grabbed her jaw in his hands. “Crop or paddle?” “Crop,” she decided. “That’s my baby.” Her heart fluttered at his words. She grimaced, but there was no denying the thrill of satisfaction that zipped through her emotions. She wanted the sensation. She wanted to feel something other than the yawning emptiness of a life without her mother. A life with Gabe so close but still out of reach. He moved to the dresser across the room. Drawers opened and closed, out of her line of sight, and then Gabe was beside her with a thin, flexible crop in hand. The leather strap was substantial, but not too wide. Her breath jumped from her chest, and her eyes drifted closed. Smack! Fire streaked from her right breast and her eyes shot open. Gabe was scowling at her. “No drifting off into la-la land. We’re going to talk.” She gulped and nodded. “Good girl,” he said and laid another strike against her breast. God, the pain was so good. She could feel anxiety’s claws loosen from her chest. “Now, Hope, why did you leave without telling me about your mother?”

Skylar Kade

Tears gathered behind her eyes but she forced them away. “She was dying, Gabe. Brain cancer. There was nothing anyone could have done for her.” With a crack, he landed the crop on her left breast, just barely missing her nipple. She writhed against the cuffs until the pain disseminated. So good. The bite of the crop made her focus on the moment, let her lose herself in something other than the stress of her daily life. Gabe used the crop to tilt her chin up to him. Little good it did—she was past the point of being able to focus on anything. “That was not my question.” She wasn’t ready to answer, didn’t want their time to end. She purposely replied with a noncommittal “Mmm” and got another swat for her efforts. The silence stretched on. Fire exploded against her flesh, the rat-a-tat-tat of the crop loosening her lips, sending heat searing to her pussy. “I didn’t want to burden you,” she said, drunk on the sensation. “That’s what I was looking for.” A soft thud on the carpet and then Gabe freed her wrists. A second later, he cradled her in his lap, running a soothing hand across her breasts. “A trip out of town isn’t a burden,” he said. “At the very least, I could have been with you at the beginning.” “That’s not the burden I meant.” He scratched his nails down her back and her sides and her front, escalating the assault until she was buried under the stings, each one pulling down a chunk of her wall. “Me, Gabe. I didn’t want to burden you with me!” The room went silent and still. Her eyes, heavy from the pain, crept open and found Gabe’s. “Hope, I knew you were keeping things from me.” He glanced away and clenched his jaw before meeting her eyes again. “But you were never a burden.” She shrugged, eyes burning with unshed tears. It was too little, too late. “Are we finished?” She wanted to find a reason to stay and soak up his warmth before reality set in. Work had to come first, she knew, but a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt, would it? She needed to build something herself, rely on herself. First her father, then Master Joseph, then Gabe… With her mother’s death, she realized she needed something all her own and her company was it. Besides, even if this was her only play this weekend, she figured it would be enough to tide her over for a few more months of work-related stress. His face hardened. “Not quite yet.” She shivered and her hormones cried their glee. He trailed a hand down her stomach and across her pants, and for a moment she thought maybe he wanted her. She’d say yes in an instant. But when his hand came to rest against her inner thigh, she knew he still sought answers. She tensed. “No, Gabe.”

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“Yes.” She steeled herself, using every trick she’d picked up in the past couple years. “Absolutely not.” His fingers circled the clothing-covered scar on her thigh like little sharks. “See, when I first saw this,” he ran his fingers across softened but still-jagged edges, “I never could figure out how old the scar was.” Why couldn’t he just let this one go? It was in the past and she didn’t need him bringing it up. She’d shared about her mother—wasn’t that enough to satisfy his curiosity? “Let it go, Gabe.” “Not happening.” She scrambled off his lap and stood by the bed. “What the hell do you know? You don’t know me or what I need.” Her hand shook as she pointed at him. She yanked it back but knew he’d already seen it. “But I wanted to.” His voice was soft, lethal. “You wouldn’t let me in. And I think this,” he traced the scar again, “was—is—part of your problem. Did you even mention this part of your life to your psychologist?” Bending to grab her bra and shirt from the ground, she said, “You wanted answers. Closure. Well I gave them to you. We’re done.” He had the nerve to laugh. She growled. “Oh, we’re far from done, darlin’. Who is Master Joseph?” She froze, bra dangling from her fingers as dread overtook her anger. “How… Where did you hear that name?” she rasped, stumbling back away from him. Gabe sprawled on the luxurious bed, body at ease. But his eyes burned holes right through her. “You talk in your sleep, Hope. Well, ‘cry’ is probably a better description. There were more than a few nights where I woke to you begging this Master Joseph to stop. You were yelling ‘blue, blue’ as you curled up in a little ball.” Nausea plunged through her stomach. “No…” She couldn’t breathe, needed to get the hell away from him, couldn’t stand seeing the revulsion in his eyes if he found out how stupid she’d been. He nodded. “It left me with a ton of questions.” His mouth tightened. “Secrets have no place in a D/s relationship.” “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.” He opened his mouth to speak then clamped it shut. She could see the tension in his arms, the tightened muscles distorting his tattoos. “I have made my share of mistakes,” he said carefully. “Mistakes, is that what you call it?” No answer, just those brown eyes boring into hers. “You disregarded one of my limits!” She hated that her voice cracked, her throat too swollen for her words to sound normal.

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He sat up in anger, body vibrating with frustration. Another thing she’d been used to seeing. “I know. And I apologize. I’ve regretted my poor judgment, pushing you, since you left.” He groaned and shook his head. “But the issue isn’t me pushing your boundaries—it’s why they existed in the first place.” “Typical hypocrite, shifting the topic. I think it is about that night. How you tied me up and dragged me into subspace. I was floating, loving it, until you decided that fucking face-to-face sounded like a good idea. I. Don’t. Do. That.” Her hands trembled so badly she dropped her shirt. He reached out and grabbed her wrist. “I know I fucked things up.” He stood, guilt and pain etched on his face. “And I know I don’t deserve an explanation.” His fingers burned her skin. She pulled away to slip into her bra then looked around for her shirt. The shirt that Gabe was holding it out like a peace offering. “Thanks.” She held it against her chest, feeling ridiculous, wanting to cover up in front of a man who’d seen her naked countless times. Never in her life had she spent so much time without clothes on as the six weeks she’d spent with Gabe. “The ‘whys’ of it haven’t stopped bothering me. I don’t like not knowing.” He closed the distance between them and Hope broke his hold, scrambling backward and feeling more trapped than a caged bird. “So, you think having all those answers now will make you happy.” Her hands fumbled to get her shirt on as she edged to the door. “I think they’ll let me move on.” The words hit her like a stab to the heart. Distance, distance was the key, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave yet. The masochist that she was, any time with Gabe was better than no time. Once her back hit the wall, he asked, “Did Master Joseph give you that scar?” She didn’t remember all of that final night with that cruel man, which almost scared her more than what she did recall. She was bound, arms above her head. “My Liege, I can’t feel my wrists,” she pleaded, and he smacked her until her ears rang. “Quiet, slave. I knew you’d be more trouble than you were worth.” Gabe’s sock-covered feet filled her vision. Thank God. “Hope?” She shook her head, afraid to speak, afraid she’d tell him everything about that time in her life, afraid she’d start crying and never stop. She’d been so stupidly naïve. “Hope, sweetheart, talk to me.” He took one of her shaking hands in his own. He’d broken down through her walls, and now he’d take down the rest with tenderness, damn him. She fisted her hands, letting her nails press into her palms. Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone? Why couldn’t she hate him for his breach of trust?

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He kissed away the tears she hadn’t realized were on her cheeks. “It’s been years since I’ve used one, but I know what a bullwhip scar looks like.” Gabe stepped closer, determination in every movement. The trembling got worse until she had to rely on the wall to keep her upright. She closed her eyes against Gabe and found a monster instead. Master Joseph grabbed the whip, the wicked-looking one with a leather barbed cracker on the end. “Slave, why are you being punished?” She trembled but Master knew best, he knew what she needed to be a good girl. “I overstepped my bounds, My Liege.” Gabe pinned her against the wall. His weight was warm and comforting and she desperately wanted to tell him everything, but she couldn’t stand to put disgust on his face. “Shh, you’re safe, Hope,” he breathed into her ear. No, she wasn’t. The past needed to stay firmly in place. “Blue,” she whispered. He froze and pulled back, hurt in his eyes. Yeah, she recognized it. She’d put it there often enough. And she knew it was low, using her safe word like that, but she needed Gabe to keep his mind out of hers. Hope stood there, hands crossed over her chest and her hip cocked out, trying to pretend he hadn’t gotten to her. She watched as Gabe put on his boots with jerky movements before returning to the exit. Door halfway open, he said, “You know, Hope, some day you’re going to find a problem you can’t run from. I pray you’re ready when it happens.” The door closed behind him with quiet finality. Hope sank to the carpet, fingers tracing spirals in the plush Bordeaux carpet as her mind whirled and her skin burned, branded every place Gabe had touched her. Gabe, who thought he could save her, who thought bringing up the past could fix her present. It was the same song and dance from their relationship. He couldn’t abide the idea of her having secrets, saw it as a breach of trust. Yeah, if that was a breach of trust, what was him throwing her limits to the wind? He thought he knew better than her. That, above anything else, told her she’d done the right thing leaving him that night without an explanation. And he was harping on trust. Bastard. Anger warmed her more than fear and Hope stoked those fires from years of practice. Bastard or not, her body still lit up for him, the only person who could get her to share at all. But it seemed as if Gabe was done with her. Her back straightened against the wall. She hadn’t needed him the past two years, and she wouldn’t need him now.

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She rose from the floor and put her now-wrinkled shirt on, taking one final look around the room, determined to focus on the real reason she came here this weekend. The room was lavishly designed, all rich purples and reds and browns, but the furniture—bed and chairs and dressers and wooden structures for erotic torture—crowded the space, leaving definite room for improvement. Her gears started cranking out possible ideas so that when she met with Ms. Lamont, she could bring at least that much to the table. Her evening with Gabe may have ended abysmally, but she knew that he would make good on his end of the bargain. She would have this contract. Not yet ready to risk coming face-to-face with another guest, she made the bed, admiring the luxurious high thread count and soft down pillows one final time before gathering her resolve and leaving. Voices drifted from the dining room, but it sounded as if there were far fewer guests there than before. She followed the trail of lights away from the voices and up the hall to the staircase, planning to iron all her clothes, wrinkled from her suitcase, and then see if the masseuse had any appointments open in the morning. It wouldn’t siphon away all her tension, but it would ease things for now. Despite Gabe’s insistence that this wasn’t a spa, he could’ve fooled her, with all the luxury amenities Ms. Lamont provided. The carpeted stairs were silent under her shoes as she made her way to the first floor. One woman, decked out for the weekend, stood alone in the lobby. She barely wore a corset and matching hot pants, had metal bands wrapped around her wrists and ankles, and sported an eternity collar—a metal band only removable with a key—around her delicate throat. Cold fingers of unease tendriled through her. She’d seen—worn—those bands before. Tremors worked their way up from her feet and she tried to shove them aside. Take deep breaths. Remember what your therapist told you. Metal cannot hurt you. People cannot hurt you unless you give them the power to. She was sure lots of Masters used eternity collars on their subs. The woman stood by the unobtrusive front desk, head down, arms at her sides, surrounded by luggage. Not her problem. She forcibly started for the stairs, reaching the first landing before the front door opened and cold wind rushed in. Turning, she saw Ms. Lamont enter. “I’m so glad you made it here before the storm,” she said, holding the door open. “Yes,” a cultured voice replied, “the roads will be impassable for at least a day. Damn shame.” Damn shame. Disobedient slaves don’t get aftercare. She shuddered and grabbed for the rail. The man walked through the door wearing a fedora and pinstripe suit. She knew that gait, that voice. She wanted to throw up.

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Master Joseph snapped his fingers and the woman ran over, took off his fedora, and bowed her head. “Bags.” He pointed upstairs. Hope couldn’t hear the woman’s response, but she knew it by heart. Yes, My Liege. The slave, loaded down with luggage, headed for the opposite staircase and started to climb, straining every step. Ms. Lamont continued her conversation with Master Joseph, but no real words filtered through to her. Garnering every piece of willpower she possessed, she managed to turn on the steps and make her way upward. One foot in front of the other, one inch at a time, she finally found herself on the second floor, but the memories still suffocated. Her pulse thundered in her ears and she could feel the blood beating against her wrists and neck. My Liege, I’ve been a good girl. My Liege, please make love to me. Room 209 loomed in front of her. Not remembering and not caring how she’d made it to her room, she fumbled for her key and unlocked the door. Hell, she’d been so wrong to keep this from her therapist. “Gabe,” she gasped before she was sucked back in time by the memories.

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Chapter Six

Gabe toyed with his glass, watching snow fall outside his bedroom balcony doors. So much for leaving early. He’d been tentatively optimistic about this weekend, but he’d gone and fucked that up. So stupid, pushing her about that scar, but he couldn’t let it go. Just like he’d pushed too much in their relationship. She needed a keeper, dammit, and here he was, ready to reapply for the job. Only she wouldn’t admit to needing it. And if he were being honest, maybe she didn’t now. Maybe she had made that much progress. With a sigh, he set down his water and fell into the posh leather chair facing the balcony. Good thing he’d brought paperwork with him. At least the weekend wouldn’t be a total loss. But that would have to wait until he’d talked to Kat. He owed Hope this recommendation. Grabbing his key card from the little table by the door, he braced himself for seeing Hope. His mind flashed to the worst-case scenario—Hope with another Top for the weekend—and he didn’t like that one bit. He relaxed his jaw, shook the tension from his shoulders, and let the door click shut behind him. Always closing doors, huh. With an angry mental shove, he slammed a door in the face of his guilty conscience. See how she likes door slamming now. Halfway to the stairs, an open door across and down a story caught his attention. Prickles crept up his spine. He stepped to the rail for a closer look, but he didn’t truly need it. He recognized that blue button-up, and only one woman had such red hair. He hauled ass around the third-story balcony and down the flight of stairs to Hope’s room, his heart racing like he’d wiped out on his bike. She lay sprawled in the entry of her suite, hair falling across her face like strands of blood. He dropped to her side, only taking a full, relieved breath when he felt her pulse. He closed the door, knowing she’d not want anyone to see her like this. He brushed her hair away and undid the top two buttons of her blouse to cool her down and make sure she didn’t have anything constricting her chest. After Hope’s previous collapse, which had scared the almighty shit out of him, he’d gathered information like a madman in case it ever happened again. Every health issue he’d researched, every diagnosis he’d read flew across his mind, a film reel in fastforward, and the tension mounted in his chest unlike anything he’d felt before. With gentle hands, he stroked her cheek.

His Only Hope

“What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded tired, deadened. “You left your door open,” he said, reaching his hand out to hers inch by inch. “You had me worried.” Hell, he still was. “Oh. Thank you.” She moved to rise but didn’t get far before pausing. Her eyes darted to him then to the floor. “I seem to be having trouble… My legs…” Her jaw clenched so hard he thought he could hear her teeth grinding. “Well, it just so happens that I’m in the business of helping damsels in distress.” Her tenuous smile reassured him. He slipped his arms under her back and knees and lifted her from the floor. God, it felt good to have her back in his arms, to be helping instead of frustrating her. “Couch or bed?” “Couch, please.” Her words were muffled by his shirt. She had buried her face against his chest and, boy, did that boil the fear from his veins. He deposited her on the deep green couch, missing her warmth as soon as it was gone. He rubbed his shirt where her head had rested. “Is there anything else I can do?” He wanted to make her talk about what happened. She cleared her throat and ducked her head. “Don’t leave.” “I’ll stay as long as you need, sweetheart.” She was putting on a brave front, but he could feel the tiny tremors racking her body. He sat on the couch and stroked her hair. She’d always liked that during aftercare, for about two seconds before she decided she was done. It had always felt as if she were humoring him, allowing post-session cuddles to make him feel better. Her eyes squeezed shut. “I’m cold,” she whispered. He laid a hand against her cheek and it chilled him. He pulled the blanket from under the solid oak coffee table and wrapped her in it, thankful Kat kept thoughtfully stocked rooms. She tucked her head down and away from him. He tried not to feel hurt, but that failed as completely as the rest of his day had. The room was silent as he slid one arm around her back and wrapped the other around her waist. Snow, illuminated by the balcony lights, fell in big, fat flakes to pile on the metal scrollwork railing. “Snow’s coming down hard. Looks like no one will be leaving early this weekend.” A strangled laugh worked free of her tight lips. “He’s here and I’m stuck.” Alarm bells shrieked in his head but he silenced them, keeping his focus on soothing Hope. He ran his hand in circles across her back, worming his way under the blanket and then her blouse to touch bare skin. He buried his face in her neck and reveled in her sweet smell. Lavender, still. He hardened in spite of the situation. Not the right time or place. Or woman, he reminded himself. “Baby, who’s here?” “Master Joseph.” A wave of hatred swamped him.

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Gabe stayed silent, hoping she’d spill some information for once. “C’mere, baby, lie back.” She obliged and he enveloped her in his arms, watching the snow drift down. This could have been heaven in other circumstances. Her words broke the silence, but just barely. “He was my Master when I was young and stupid.” He bit back a growl and waited for the rest. “I was eighteen and he seemed so worldly. He guided me and protected me, at first. I felt loved.” Her words made him burn with anger and jealousy. “And then he said the real work was starting, that he needed to break me before I’d be of any use to him.” She laughed, but it was full of bitterness. “All I wanted to do was please him. Little did I know, all he wanted was a mindless slave to fuck and beat.” She slammed her fist against the couch. “How could I have been so stupid?” “Baby, no.” He kissed the side of her forehead. “This was not your fault.” “Yes, it was. I should have left, should have reported him, and now he’s got another slave, and who knows how many more before her, and what if he’s hurt them like he hurt me and it would be all my fault!” She beat her fists again and again, breaking his heart with each blow. He lifted her onto his lap and held her wrists still in one hand. “It’s not your fault,” he snarled in her face. Her eyes went wide. In a softer tone, he finished, “And I don’t ever want to hear that again from you, do you understand, cara?” She nodded. “That’s my girl.” He let go of her wrists and tucked her head against his chest. “You’re safe now. Just relax.” He reveled in the feel of her, rubbing his hands across her body. Whether to soothe her or himself, he wasn’t sure. Time passed and he felt some of the tension ease from her muscles. “Why did you leave him?” he finally asked. The fight seemed to go out of her. She laughed, a slightly crazed sound that broke at the end. “Why not tell? You know the rest of my fuck ups. The scar on my thigh. That was my breaking point.” The silent, warm room stood in contrast to her agony and it nearly killed him. “I was chained. He’d been flogging me, back and ass already aching. He decided to pull out the bullwhip.” “Shit, baby, that’s no plaything.” Another bitter laugh. “It was a hard limit for me. I like pain, but not like that. I safe worded after the first strike. That one hit my back, only left a welt.” “Only left a… Dammit, Hope, I’m glad he’s here so I can beat the sick fuck.” She gave the barest hint of a smile before it faded and she continued. “He said bad slaves don’t get to safe word. They need to take their punishments and deal with it. He laid a couple more strikes on my back before telling me to spread my legs. By that time, the pain had me cowering away in my mind, and not in a good way.”

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He didn’t want to hear any more. It was no wonder Hope hadn’t wanted to talk about this. “Got a nice hard slap for not moving fast enough. He chained my legs apart and the next whip landed on my thigh. Lucky for me,” she snorted. “Lucky, yeah. Master Joseph can’t stand the sight of blood. I should have gotten stitches, but he just unchained me and left. I asked for aftercare, for the first-aid kit, but all he said was ‘Damn shame, disobedient slaves don’t get aftercare’ before he stormed out.” “Shit.” Gabe wanted to punch something, and he knew exactly who. That would have to wait. First, he wanted to make up for all the cuddles, the tenderness she’d missed out on. “Why were you being punished in the first place?” She tucked her head against his chest, muffling her reply. “I’d asked him to make love to me.” His blood chilled. “Baby…” “Yeah. I was never allowed sex face-to-face, and it was never tender.” He felt like the biggest bastard. “Is that why you left me?” He felt her nod. “Shit, I…that last night, I just wanted to see your beautiful face, watch you writhe and come under me, wrap you in my arms afterward, even though I could tell you weren’t comfortable with it. I’d never, ah, never wanted that before.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “It wasn’t just that, Gabe. You saw too much. The questions were building in your eyes and I wasn’t ready to answer them. Took two years of therapy for me to even think about it myself.” “I’m a selfish bastard.” “And I’m relieved that I finally got to tell you. You were right—keeping secrets isn’t good for any relationship.” His mother’s face floated across his mind but he shoved it aside. “What changed? Why share this now?” She shrugged beneath his arm. “Self-preservation, maybe.” “That’s not an answer. Try again.” She looked up at him, reluctance painted across her face. “Before I passed out, all I could think of was you. That you could make it all better.” Tears constricted his throat. “Hope…” He pulled her in tighter and kissed her forehead and her cheeks and her lips, savoring the taste of her skin, the flavor he hadn’t been able to erase from his memory. He so didn’t deserve her. She sighed in his arms and snuggled closer to him. Her muffled voice said, “And you were right. I hit a situation I couldn’t run from.” He smiled and tilted her chin up. “Wanna say that again?” She attempted a laugh. That was his resilient girl. “This is kind of my worst-case scenario. I can’t drive away from this mess, from him. Blasted snow. And…” She paused before cupping his cheek and meeting his eyes. Hers were so green and deep and open

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he wanted to fall right in and never leave. “Talking earlier helped. I’ve known for a while that I had to tell someone other than the woman I paid to listen to my whining. Well, she told me that, but I agreed. I’m glad it was you.” He gave her a good squeeze, never breaking eye contact. He had his answers, his closure. Now would be the time to share his own secrets, but logic rebelled. Gently pulling his arm from underneath her head, he shifted her from his lap back to the couch. “Gabe, I…” She looked so small wrapped up in that soft, thick blanket. Innocent. “I know.” He stood. “It’s time for me to go, and I think we both know that.” His chest tightened. She rose and wrapped her arms around his waist. “See, I was going to say ‘I think I need you here with me.’” She bit her lip and looked at the floor. “I may have told you everything, but that doesn’t mean I’m all hunky-dory.” He smiled, ignoring her first statement for the moment. “You know, you’re the only person who still uses that phrase.” “Am not!” She smacked his chest, right where she’d been twining around his heart once again. Oh, she was so asking for a little discipline. He froze, gave her a good, long stare, then grabbed her hand and pulled it behind her back. “Baby, did you just hit me?” he growled into her ear. She shivered in his arms. “I, uh, well, I didn’t mean it like that—” Her breathy words went straight to his groin and he ached to press himself against her. But there would be time for that later. “Naughty girls don’t get to walk around free in this place, you know.” Her breath whooshed out and her eyes fluttered closed. It looked as if she had been serious about keeping him there. He tightened his grip on her wrist, and her mouth parted in a soft, erotic sigh. “Am I staying or going, baby?” “Stay.” She popped open her eyes and he was drowning in green, unable to look away. He let her go and took a step back. “Are you sure?” His heart sank at the betrayed look in her eyes. “No, honey, don’t think I’m rejecting you. I just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into.” He pulled the cuff from his pocket. The light danced off the silver links and shiny green leather. When he’d made it, finding the perfect shade of green had taken weeks. “You’ll be mine until we leave. I won’t go easy on you or shy away from your past, because you know as well as I do you’ve still got shit to deal with. You’ll have your ass warmed and your nipples pinched and your hair pulled.” He knew this might not end well, but for two days with Hope? He’d take the chance of pain. She swayed on her feet. “Yes.” “Hold out your hand.” He clasped the band around her pale wrist, the delicate veins beneath her skin seducing him. He wanted to find every blue line and trace it with his tongue. God, her creamy skin was beyond sexy.

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“Thank you, Gabe.” Her lust-roughened voice, the way she said his name, drilled straight to his cock. He set aside the effect it had on his heart. Katrina thought he’d been crazy, going so long without a woman, but now it made sense. His body knew what it wanted—Hope, and no one else. He didn’t know whether to laugh or lash out. Preferably at Master Asshole. One arm wrapped around her tiny waist and the other grabbed her hair and tilted her head back. The beautiful line of her neck, the indentations of her collarbone made his cock throb. He nipped her earlobe and her moan vibrated through his body. “One more thing, cara.” “Yes, Gabe?” Another pulse of blood to his prick. He licked the rim of her ear and she wrapped her arms around his neck and went boneless against him. “Before we truly start, you have to know I won’t just play with you this weekend.” “Oh no? Have plans for a Parcheesi tournament, do you?” He let go of her hair to smack her ass. The crack, dulled by her pants, echoed through the room in time with her yelp. “I’ve missed your sense of humor. It provides so many opportunities for discipline.” He swatted her again and she yelped. “That was for your little smack on my chest earlier.” For a third time, his hand came down on her sweet rear and she sighed and arched into the spanking. “And that was just for me.” His grin felt feral, even to him. “And no, Parcheesi will have to wait, because when you’re not bound and getting punished, I’ll be fucking you silly. Starting now.” She whimpered and it was the sweetest sound. He was afraid he’d bust the zipper on his jeans if she didn’t agree soon. She pressed herself against him and started lifting his shirt, but he needed to hear the words. “Yes or no, Hope.” “Yes, Gabe,” she purred. Hot damn, the weekend was looking up.

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Chapter Seven

As soon as she’d agreed to his weekend terms, he’d carried her into the bedroom and settled her on the bed. Hope was dizzy with lust and joy. Telling Gabe about Master Joseph and her mother felt so good—but not as good as she’d feel in a bit. She turned to him, wet with anticipation, wondering what would come next. He was always deliciously unpredictable. It was one reason why she’d been so enamored with him. Had been? She ran from that thought faster than a seam ripped and yanked her brain to the here and now. Gabe snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor between his knees. Time to sink into that clear, pure part of her mind where nothing mattered but pleasing Gabe. He could throw her into subspace with a look, a touch, a word. And he was the only one who’d been capable of doing so. Damn, had she missed it. Submission gave her an unparalleled freedom. Sinking onto her knees, she couldn’t help but notice the uncomfortable-looking bulge behind his slacks. She rested her head on his leg as she used to when he was working at his desk, sketching his newest designs. He stroked her hair and everything drifted away but the feel of his muscled thigh, his hands running through her hair, and the arousal she could just barely smell. He let her revel in the moment, and that, more than anything, reminded her of why she’d been broken when she left him in California. He was a Dominant who understood that it wasn’t all about his desires. She had loved him for it. Did love him for it. And in that moment, cushioned by Gabe’s gentle dominance, the thought didn’t scare her at all. “Okay, cara.” His voice barely broke the silence. “Wrists.” She knew this routine by rote. Placing her hands against his chest, she held her breath until one then both leather cuffs buckled shut against her skin. Their weight grounded her in the moment. They were the same cuffs she’d worn at home with him every night, the cuffs he’d made just for her after learning collars made her uncomfortable—Thanks, Master Joseph. Lighter than most but still substantial, the cuffs suited her in every way. She tried not to wonder if any other sub had worn them in her absence, but the thought crept in and turned her stomach. They were hers, dammit, and so was he. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” The interruption of his command was welcome. And a thrill of excitement zipped through her, replacing her unpleasant thoughts. “Oh? Whatever will we do about that, Sir?”

His Only Hope

Gabe froze and she tried to remember why he’d react like that, but her brain was all melty. She looked up at him, loving the view. “So. You’re using ‘Sir’, now?” His eyes were cautious, waiting for her response. “Mmm, I guess so.” She nuzzled into his leg, feeling small and protected. “Eyes up.” Her chin snapped up and she saw desire burned into every line of his face. “You never wanted to use that before.” So much for sinking away into subspace. She gathered her wits about her. “It seemed to fit. Felt right. But I’m sorry if I—” He yanked her to her feet and kissed her silly. “No,” he growled, “it’s just right. Now let’s get you naked.” Hit with that tone, she’d have done anything he asked. Her nipples pressed against the lace of her bra, begging to be released. She reached for them through her shirt, rubbing the sensitive points…for about two seconds before Gabe snapped, “Hands behind your back.” She twined her fingers together to make extra sure she didn’t reach for something, like Gabe’s zipper, and waited for his next move. She didn’t have to wait long. Like a madman, he unbuttoned her shirt and flicked open her bra. The cool bedroom air on her nipples hardened them into little points. Gabe circled her like a hunter with its prey. Once he moved out of her sight, Hope let her eyes sink closed. She focused on the soft swish of his pants as he moved, the displaced air brushing across her flesh, the delicious smell of him. Then his hands were on her, unclasping her fingers to remove her top and bra before he replaced her hands behind her back. A metallic snap later, and her wrists weren’t going anywhere. “Damn you.” He knew how much restraints aroused her. He cleared his throat and she added, “Sir.” “I warned you we were playing my game, baby.” Warm hands landed on her skin, and Hope let her head fall back against Gabe’s strong chest. His fingers slid up and down her sides before landing on her breasts, heating the places the air had chilled. He always felt warm to her, a luxury for someone who always wanted to wrap up in a blanket on a Los Angeles summer night. The nights she spent with Gabe, she wrapped up in him instead. His fingers drew ever-tightening circles on her breasts, and every pass he didn’t brush against her nipples made her wetter with anticipation. “I love your tits.” She loved when he used that word—so raw, so dirty, and he always growled it against her ear. “Perky, full, with nipples that taste like candy.” “Sure you remember?” she mumbled, drunk on his touch.

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He squeezed her breasts, the constriction shooting arrows of lust to her pussy. His touch would be gentle and rough by turns, but always unpredictable. “Wench. I’ll get there when I feel like it.” He nibbled her neck. “I’ll put you on your knees, arms restrained, and lick those pretty nipples until you beg me to fuck you.” Her moan sounded desperate, even to her ears. “You like that, hmm?” he growled before biting her earlobe. Chills ran down her spine, a flash fire spreading out to her fingers and toes. “You want more?” “Oh God, yes please, Sir, please.” She babbled nonsense, begging for his touch, anything harder than the delicate circles he was back to tracing. With his deft fingers, Gabe had her pants off in no time. He spun her around, pulling her against his hot, hard chest. She leaned up to kiss him, wanting to feel his tongue on something, anything. “I don’t think so.” He stopped her with a hand and a wicked grin. “You gotta earn that, baby.” Laughter bubbled from her, and God did it feel good. She’d not laughed like that in years. Hell, not since she’d left Gabe. “Whatever you say.” His eyes went hard and he grabbed her arms. “Whatever you say…?” She whimpered as a wave of arousal drowned her. “Whatever you say, Sir.” “Better.” He crushed his mouth to hers and she was lost. His tongue dived and swooped and threw sparks to every tingling nerve in her body. She’d missed this, the way he kissed with his whole being. She threw herself into it, lips and teeth and tongues meshing until she felt nothing beyond that moment. One second she was kissing him, and the next she was lifted into the air and onto her knees, mattress beneath her with Gabe standing over her. “Much better,” he said, using his hands to span her waist. She loved how solid and big he was all over. “Y’know, this isn’t fair. I’m practically naked and you’re still dressed…Sir.” Hope did her best fake pout. Gabe’s smile had her tingles swarming back. Her pussy throbbed as he rubbed a hand against her mound, protected by nothing but her black lace thong. She arched into his touch and he pulled his hand back. Her panties were soaked through and she felt so empty. She needed him inside her, hot and hard. Sooner would be better than later, but Gabe seemed as if he was going to take his sweet time on this one. “How can you have the world’s most perfect breasts?” He lifted them from her chest like an offering to his lips. He leaned forward and sucked one nipple into his hot, wet mouth and she about lost her mind.

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Between his hands and mouth on her, Hope’s sense of space-time was distorted. One second, Gabe teased her breasts, the next she was on her back, wrists unhooked from each other. “Arms above your head. Don’t move them.” He trailed his hands up and down her flesh, from shoulders to toes and back again, with just enough pressure to tease. The pads of his fingers skimmed across her panties, the friction tickling her clit. She arched her back, wanting more of his touch. “Sir, please, I need you now.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, urging him to suck, to bite, anything but stop touching her. Which is exactly what he did. “Bad girl. I told you not to move your arms.” He sighed and shook his head. “And I was enjoying your sexy black lace panties too. You know I’m a sucker for your pale skin framed in black.” He re-pinned her hands and rose from the bed. “Let’s try this again. Don’t. Move.” “Yes, Sir.” He traced her body inch by inch with his eyes, searing her skin. Her lids drifted closed under the weight of her lust, but she could still feel him staring at her. A throat clearing pulled her out of the sensual reverie. When she reopened her eyes, Gabe had lost his shirt. “Oh, sweet lord and hot damn,” she breathed. Her mouth watered at the sight of his golden skin. Broad shoulders tapered down to a whittled waist and his sexy hip muscles pointed toward the bulge in his slacks like a giant arrow. Muscles corded his arms and chest and abs, and he sported a new tattoo on his left pec, a soaring bird that was linked to his sleeve tat with beautiful abstract swirls of color. She didn’t have a chance to think more about it because Gabe pulled a knife from his back pocket. “Oh…Gabe. Sir.” He remembered her weakness for sharp, shiny things. Yeah, because she hadn’t been wet enough already. She whimpered as he flicked it open and knelt on the bed. The cool steel pressed lightly into her neck and trailed down between her breasts and across her hip, leaving nothing but a burning line of sensitized flesh behind. She lifted her head to see the razor-sharp blade slide under her panties. With a flick, he cut one side then the other before she could protest. A clatter of metal on wood rang through the room and his knife-free hands returned, pulling the thong from her body. “Don’t say a word, cara. I’ll buy you more.” Well, there was no arguing with that. He knelt between her legs and spread them farther apart. She squirmed under the penetrating gaze locked on her pussy. She’d never let him go down on her or stare at her naked and spread-eagled because her scar raised too many questions, but the time for that was past.

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But it didn’t mean she was suddenly comfortable with the attention. Her legs trembled and inched closed. She got a solid smack on her thigh for that one. Two years ago—hell, two hours ago—Hope couldn’t have imagined not freaking out from the contact, but as Gabe’s hand soothed the area and his thumb gently caressed her scar, she only felt a twinge of unease. And that vanished when he leaned down to kiss the ridged, scarred skin. “Keep ’em spread, baby. I’ve got time to make up for.” Hell, that sounded like fun. He exhaled across her inner thigh, tendrils of air teasing her exposed core. “Gabe, please…” “Baby, you’re out of practice. Ask properly.” Her mind froze under all the naughty things she could demand, the delightful things his talented tongue could do. Her foray into kinky la-la land got cut short by a pinch to her other thigh. She gave an undignified yelp and fought every instinct to close her legs. She won—kinda—but just enough to avoid another pinch. “I’m waiting, cara. Tell me what you want or I’ll just have to spend the rest of the evening staring at your charms and exploring at my leisure.” While that was a tempting offer, Hope knew she didn’t have the patience for that. Waiting had never been her strong suit, and was only something she could abide when tied up—of course, she could only abide because she had no other options. “Please, Sir, Gabe, lick me, taste me, make me come!” “Demanding wench, aren’t you? I suppose I can tackle the first two, but whether you get to come or not is still up in the air.” “Ah, dammit. Tease!” She tilted her head up to watch him, loving the sight of his dark hair and eyes against her pale, pale skin. He bit into the flesh of her mons as he laughed, and the vibrations awoke long-dormant never endings. Since her mother had taken a turn for the worse all those months ago, Hope had been too busy to remember she had a sex drive, much less do anything about it. She hadn’t come in…far too long. He pulled back and she groaned in frustration. “What, you want more of that?” She flopped her head back to the bed. “Yes…” Her response trailed off into a gasp when Gabe swiped his tongue across her clit. Had she known what she’d been missing… “What a pretty pussy.” He spread her lips and said, “Oh, that’s much better. Look at you, cara, your clit is swollen and begging for attention.” The cool air dancing across her flesh, already damp from his tongue, threw a new sensation into the overwhelming mix. His tongue danced across her lower lips, stroking from the bottom of her opening up to her clit, the little bundle of nerves shooting fireworks off in her brain when he nibbled it.

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Keeping her arms against the mattress grew harder with every kiss of his lips. She shook as lightning arced across her limbs, starting from her core and zinging to every inch of her body. “So…so close,” she moaned. It had been too long. She had a momentary worry of the orgasm devouring her, driving her mad, shaking her apart, but Gabe pushed a long finger into her pussy and she forgot everything but the pounding need to come. She inched closer and closer, the room and her past and her future fading into nothing but her and Gabe and this moment. “Have you been a good girl, Hope?” Good? Had she been good? Her lust-blurred senses sharpened and she tilted her head up to look at him. Her orgasm faded away like words carved into wet sand. “No. I haven’t been good.” Her throat tightened as she thought about how she’d mistreated him. “I’m sorry, Gabe, for not trusting you.” “Ah, baby.” He crawled up the bed to her side. “Hope, that’s not what I meant.” She shook her head. “You were so good to me and I kept secrets, though part of me knew I should— wanted to—tell.” His eyes darted away from hers and Hope wondered what part of her apology made him uncomfortable. In the hazy dark of the room, with only the moon shining through the large window and skylight for illumination, Gabe kissed her with more tenderness and passion than she’d ever experienced. She tasted herself on his lips, tangy and fresh, the flavor dueling with Gabe’s own spicy taste. It was a night for firsts, especially when he eased off the bed and stripped bare. “No more games, no more teasing, just you and me, Hope. There’s time enough for play tomorrow. Now, I just need to feel you skin to skin, clenching around me.” Her breath caught, his naked body and his naked intent so very male. He was hard, the long, heavy erection bobbing against his skin. She needed him. “Yes, Sir.” He growled his approval. “Thankfully Kat keeps all the rooms stocked,” he muttered as he popped open the bedside table’s drawer. A rip and crinkle later, he crawled back onto the bed. He settled between her legs and his weight was a comfort even as the hard press of his cock against her abdomen kicked her heart into overdrive. His lips found hers again, and Hope decided she could be perfectly content staying in bed and making out for the rest of the weekend. Well, maybe not completely content. “You can move your arms now,” he said against her lips.

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They obeyed and jumped around his neck, holding him flush against her lips, not wanting the kiss to end. Touching his skin was, in itself, an erotic sensation. One hand trailed through his stubbly scalp, loving the tactile sensation. He had the most perfectly shaped head, and even when he’d been shaved completely she’d thought his head was sexy. God, everything about him was sexy, from his piercing brown eyes to his imperfect, oncebroken nose to his hard-muscled, tattoo-covered body. She gave herself up to the kiss, and to the one man who hadn’t given up on her. He shifted, never pulling his lips away from hers, and suddenly he was at her entrance. He swirled little circles with his hips, dipping farther into her each time but never truly invading. He drove her crazy with desire. She felt so empty, bereft, and the only thing that could banish that sensation was making love to Gabe. She tilted her hips upward, taking more of him inside her. He froze above her and shuddered, ripping his mouth from hers. “God, Hope, you are so hot and tight. It feels like—” “Like I haven’t had sex since you.” She watched the surprise fill his face before being shoved aside by a harder emotion. “Mine,” he growled. His mouth attacked hers in a searing, possessive kiss. He propped up on one arm and used the other to tangle in her hair. “Say it,” he demanded, taking another inch of her pussy. He was so thick and she was out of practice, but there was no fear he’d bruise her as Master Joseph often had. The hard lines of his face sang of his impressive self-control. “You’re mine, Hope, and I want to hear you say it.” No, she couldn’t say it out loud. In her private thoughts, she could admit whatever she wanted, but words had power to make emotions more real. “Sir, please, Gabe…” He pulled out, holding himself just at her entrance. “You can’t run from this, baby.” His fingers abandoned her hair and took her hand instead, bringing it up to rest on his new tattoo over his heart. “Feel that? That’s lust, joy, thrill, all for you.” She melted beneath him. He always knew the right thing to say. As she garnered her courage, he squeezed her wrist. “I know that look of concentration. It’s simple, baby. You belong to me. And I—” “Mine,” she whispered, half-choked by her love for him. Leaving had been an utterly bad idea, but she was back where she belonged now. Master Joseph had no more power over her. The past could creep back into her mind, but Gabe would help her through it. She knew that unconditionally. He stared into her eyes, her hand still over his heart, and took her in one deep stroke. Her nerves flamed awake and sent tingles across ever inch of her skin.

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His Only Hope

“More, Sir,” she said, eyes rolling back into her head in lust. He froze. “Not until you look at me.” Her eyes jumped open. Was something wrong? “Keep your eyes on mine, Hope.” She obeyed. He pulled out then drove back into her pussy, gliding against her G-spot this time. She shuddered and moaned but managed to keep eye contact. He dropped her wrist but she kept her palm against him as he thrust again and again. Pressing down against her, he took her lips and shifted his angle, muffling her cry of satisfaction with his kiss. Everything except that moment melted away. It was as if her life had been playing in mono on VHS; now she had Blu-ray with 7.1 surround sound. She registered every muscle of Gabe’s body, every millimeter of his cock dragging across her sensitized channel, every tangle of his tongue against hers, and they coalesced in her pussy and heart and mind. The tide dragged her under and tingling started at the bottom of her spine. She tore her mouth from his. “Gabe, Sir, I’m so close.” “Come for me. I need to feel your tight, hot pussy clench around me.” His erotic words, the hot look in his eyes, threw her over the edge. She writhed and shuddered and lost all sense of self, dizzy from the pleasure. He sped his thrusts, prolonging her orgasm, until his muscles corded and tensed. “Ah, love, I’m going to come.” She raked her nails down his back and bit the tattoo over his heart, finally understanding what it was for. He thrust deeper into her than before, once, twice, before freezing against her. She felt him come, his thick cock twitching inside her and arousing her spent nerves. He let his full weight fall against her for long minutes before rolling to the edge of the bed, and then he was back sans condom but still half-hard against her hip. He pulled her into his strong, tattooed arms, the riot of colors and shapes dizzying in her post-orgasmic bliss. “God, that was hot,” she whispered, sated and wrapped in his arms. “Wasn’t it?” Silence descended. Her mind was so wonderfully blank that sleep beckoned almost instantly. “I missed you so much, Hope.” His words barely reached her ears. Hope assumed she dreamed them. “I’ll keep you for as long as you let me.” Now she really knew she was dreaming. Gabe did tenderness well, but this was something different altogether. This smacked of love. Something they’d never said to each other.

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“…hope I don’t fuck things up…sorry for not being able to give you what you needed the first…” His words echoed down the tunnel of her half-asleep mind, more indistinct with each passing moment. “…I’ll never harm you…” Sleep pulled her under, and for the first time in far too long, she had blissful, uninterrupted dreams. At least until he woke her for round two. And three.

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Chapter Eight

Hope stood under the spotlight, bound and gagged. He could see the wetness on her thighs, the tightness of her nipples, and her arousal hit him like a Mack truck. With each lash of the flogger, her moans grew deeper and louder. Her musky smell teased his nostrils and made his mouth water. He’d never gotten to eat that sweet pussy, but now that she’d had such a breakthrough, Gabe figured she deserved a reward. After she took her punishment. The flogger had turned her back and thighs to a sea of pink, but it wasn’t enough. The searing desire inside him needed to see her bruised and welted. He dropped the flogger and grabbed the cane. Varnished bamboo, it was thin enough to sting and solid enough to get the effect he wanted. “Spread ’em.” She jumped to obey his command and the power swamped his mind. Hope was his to do with as he pleased. Which was all too convenient because, damn, he was stressed-out. This would be the perfect outlet for his tension. He gave a trial swing and the crack of cane on skin proved to be addictive. Hope jumped and danced over each blow. He felt better by the minute, especially when the red streaks crowded each other on her pale, delicate skin. She’d gone quiet. He leaned around to get a look at her face and tears were streaming down her cheeks. That shouldn’t have made him feel proud, but it proved he was truly in control of her now. She was panting and mumbling something around her gag, so he unbuckled it and let her speak. “Blue, blue, blue,” she sobbed. He scoffed at her safe word. The lights in the room flickered and he turned to the cabinet of toys towering against the back wall. He grabbed a bullwhip and threw the door closed behind him. He turned back to her shaking form and cracked the whip against the floor by her feet. He loved how she jumped from the sound. Her fiery red hair shook with her sobs. He reached for her and spun her around, the ropes tying her hands together twining above her head. Her tear-stained face implored him to stop. “Gabe,” she said, shaking her head in what he knew to be disappointment, “I’d hoped you wouldn’t turn into your father.” He looked into the mirror beyond her, pissed that she’d dare compare them. His father’s face stared back at him. But not just his father’s, Master Joseph’s too. Or at least what he imagined the man to look like.

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“Are you going to take that, boy?” the voice mocked. “You always were weak. I should have beat you more, instead of your dear mother.” The tone shifted. “Hope is as pathetic as she was, crying while I tried to discipline her.” Gabe shook his head, trying to undo the rope knots, but his reflection showed his arm rising and the whip falling against her captive flesh. He woke with a jolt and groped for the bedside lamp. Sweat beaded his brow and the sheets were hopelessly tangled around him. Kicking them away, he jumped from the bed as if it were toxic, only then noticing it was empty. Hope. Had he caned her last night? Panic gripped him and he dived for his toy bag. Everything was it its place. He didn’t even own a cane, right? He jumped when the bedroom door opened to reveal her sweet, innocent face. He stepped away from the duffel and slipped on a calm face. Clad only in his button-up, she looked young and beautiful and completely undeserving of a man with such violent genes. “Good morning, Sir,” she said, sauntering over to him. She held a mug in her outstretched hands. “Thought you might like some coffee. Brunch started a half hour ago, but you were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to disturb you.” “Ah, thanks, babe.” She leaned in for a kiss, and he obliged. She didn’t seem angry at him. He took a sip of coffee, hoping the caffeine would steady him. Not likely, but it was worth a shot. “Hope, do you need any arnica or antibiotic cream for last night?” She laughed and patted his chest. “I’m fine.” He heaved a mental sigh of relief. “Okay, good.” “Making sure I’m not too sore for today?” Her laugh turned into a purr. She looked up at him through hooded eyes. His stomach sank as his blood heated and headed south. She rubbed against him, her small hand curling around his boxer-covered erection. “Oh, seems like someone likes that idea.” He forced a laugh, but she didn’t seem convinced. With a long-suffering sigh, she released him. “Still not a morning person, I see.” “Nine a.m. is still an ungodly hour.” He paused, unsure how to proceed. Mentioning his dream was out of the question—Hope didn’t know about his past—and until he shook off this sick feeling, scening would be out of the question too. “Babe, I’m going to grab a shower. Why don’t you get changed and come back here. We can go to breakfast together.” “Sure.” Her usually infectious smile reminded him of how easy it would be to hurt her, especially now that he’d gained her trust.

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But if they could avoid going downstairs, the playrooms would be out of the question. He could handle a little bedroom bondage, but the full-on playroom scene Hope seemed to want… His stomach knotted. “Hope, are you sure you’re up for the dining room? Most of the guests will be there.” Her look was puzzled, but it almost instantly gave way to distress. “Just craptastic. I’d completely forgotten.” She wrapped her arms around him and that, more than anything, smoothed the rough edges from his nightmare. He needed more of her, that much he knew. “Hope, I’ll go get us breakfast, and we’ll camp in my room until you’re ready”—until I’m ready—“to explore the rest of Maison. Hell, we can even have Kat up for lunch if she’s available.” Hope froze against him. Had he said the wrong thing? “Really?” Her words barely reached his ears. “Of course. You’re mine.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. A man like him didn’t deserve her, could never dream to keep her. “And I keep my promises.” How many promises would he break to her this time? She wrapped her arms around him, squeezed, and landed a passionate kiss on his lips. His heart kicked into overdrive. He’d struggled the past two years to get over her, and now that he had her back, his bastard father had to ruin it. He always had total control as a Dom, except where Hope was concerned. She drove him crazy with frustration and desire, and no one else could make him forget his carefully laid plans. If he stayed in control, he could never be like his father. He’d realized that years ago. But what if he couldn’t regain control? What if his loss of control didn’t stop with sex? Then Hope would be left with a second Master Joseph on her hands. He broke the kiss and took a half-step back. “Just keeping you on your toes, Sir. It’s extra fun to do in the morning when you’re still a little fuddled. I’m sure you’ll spank me for it later.” She turned to the bed and fussed with the sheets, tucking the corners under the mattress to form little triangles. Her hands smoothed and tightened the dark sheet as she looked to him. “Give me an hour to get ready?” Instead he responded with, “I’m in Room 320, end of the hall, and take all the time you need. We have the whole weekend ahead of us. “ Shit. He dressed as she finished making the bed and headed back to his room, still in a daze.

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Gabe stood under the shower spray, water as hot as he could stand. A sad attempt to burn away the remnants of his nightmare, maybe, but mildly successful nonetheless. Three showerheads jutted from the slate-gray tiles and steam swirled to cover the whole bathroom suite. Treating the weekend like a spa getaway wouldn’t be a bad idea. He and Hope could stay in his room and make love all day. Laugh over private meals and soak in the ridiculous hot tub that took up half his bathroom. Get to know each other again. But that would require sharing something of his past. He cranked the water hotter. He had few fears, but seeing the look of disgust and betrayal on Hope’s face if she found out would undo him more certainly than her leaving. And he thought he’d gotten this mess sorted out years ago. His father had beaten his mother, and him, without mercy. As a child, Gabe swore to save his mother and never hurt the woman he would one day love. For years, he’d tried to reconcile his dominant urges with the dark part of him that was his father’s son, and thought he’d succeeded. During his relationship with Hope, he’d tied her up and spanked her and pinched her and fucked her, even used impact play from time to time. He thought it had been enough. Deep down he knew Hope needed more. That to bring her catharsis, to purge her demons, she needed sharper, deeper, harder pain. He let her down. After she left Los Angeles, hours of late-night, cross-country talks with Kat had given him some clarity. She was the only person, other than Jax, who knew about his father. Both said he was crazy to think he would abuse a woman, and to an extent, he agreed. When he was topping a sub for a night or even a weekend, impact play—floggers and crops and paddles—didn’t faze him in the least. None of it had been a problem before Hope, and he hadn’t played in the scene since they’d both left Los Angeles. He should have known better. Rinsing off the soap, Gabe dialed off the shower and grabbed for one of Maison’s signature plush white bathrobes. Something about Hope triggered his protective instincts, and after that nightmare, heavy pain play was out of the question. You don’t beat the one you love. And he did love her, damn it all. But that would have to wait. He’d just barely convinced her to spend the weekend with him. Bringing love into the picture just wouldn’t fly yet. He’d have to wait. Maybe forever, and didn’t that ache like a son of a bitch. In an attempt to bury the thought, Gabe busied himself with anything he could think of. He dressed, remade the bed he hadn’t slept in, picked up around the suite. His mind was almost clear until he picked up his saddlebag to bring into the bedroom and Hope’s collar box fell from the side pocket. Bending to pick it up, he was slammed in the chest by memories of creating the necklace. For two days after she left, he’d lived in his studio and worked practically around the clock to create the perfect collar for her, something that would mark her as his but not feel like a normal collar. She’d made it clear that she hated collars.

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He wondered how Master Joseph had used a collar on her and his blood pressure hit the roof. When he finished creating the necklace, the sick, empty feeling of abandonment was almost gone. He’d been half-tempted to melt it down, but the collar stood as some of his finest work. Instead, he locked it away in his safe and tried to forget about it—until last weekend. Bringing it to Maison was a stupid idea if he’d ever had one, but the box managed to find its way into his bag nonetheless. He took it and the bag into the bedroom. The latter he threw into the closet before sitting on the comfy leather chair next to the bed. He popped open the box. Hope’s neck was made for this kind of jewelry. She had a long, slender, creamy-white neck that would be highlighted by this collar. He could see himself putting it on her, claiming her. He would kiss her neck as often as possible just to make her shudder and moan. And she would be marked as his for the whole world to see. Fear shoved aside the fantasy. If she were truly his, would the power go to his head? Would he abuse her? He needed to talk to Kat, grab their breakfast to go and haul ass back to the room before Hope showed up. Gabe headed down to the dining room where guests occupied almost every table in far less restrained outfits than the night before. Leather and lace dominated, overshadowed only by skin. He didn’t register any of it, even when one of his favorite bottoms cut him off on the way to the buffet line. “Gabriel, it’s been forever!” she trilled. “Any chance of you showing Mistress a couple of your…tricks today?” Serena batted her eyes at him. While she was beautiful, all dark hair and caramel skin and curves, she wasn’t Hope. He needed his woman tall, lithe and Irish. “Sorry, babe, I’m taken for the weekend.” She pouted, but Gabe knew her well enough to see the spark of interest in her eyes. “I’d heard that rumor, but had to check for myself. The mighty Gabriel, not playing weekend lover for once. Interesting. Two years away, and you reappear with a sub of your own. She must be quite the woman.” Serena looked around the room. “And where is your lovely lady? I hope you didn’t leave her alone at one of those tables with so many Tops prowling around.” “She’s upstairs. I’m getting breakfast for us.” He tugged his earring in impatience. If he didn’t hurry, there’d be no time to talk with Kat before Hope returned from her room. Serena’s eyes widened. “You’re getting food for her? The plot thickens. Had I known you played like that, I would have asked for breakfast in bed too.” She stepped back to inspect him. “Or is this not play at all?” Gabe said nothing. How could he answer if he wasn’t sure himself? “Yep, you’re tangled up in this chick, all right. Gabriel, speechless.”

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She leaned in, and Gabriel marveled at his body’s lack of reaction even as he worried what the audacious Serena might do. But she simply left a chaste peck on his cheek, welcome and surprising. “She’s a lucky woman, and don’t you forget it.” Serena sauntered off to her Mistress, leaving Gabe torn between flattery and nervousness. He didn’t have time to worry about it now, though. Grabbing a wicker tray and two china plates, Gabe filled them with Hope’s favorite foods. Yeah, he still remembered what she liked for breakfast. Half a Belgian waffle covered in strawberries and powdered sugar, eggs and two strips of bacon. He loved that she ate like a real woman. There was that ache in his chest again. He’d have to get used to it—the feeling was much sharper now that she was back in his life. Two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice later and he was ready to head upstairs, food and Katrina in tow. He scanned the room, searching for her white-blonde hair, noting Jax and Lara’s absence in the process. Good. They would ask too many questions he didn’t want to answer. Not yet. Finally, he spied Kat in the far corner talking to a tall man in black leather pants and matching leather vest. He tried not to scoff, but his outfit was a little overkill. Besides, leather was a bitch to move in, and he preferred working unimpeded during a scene. And when you worked up a sweat? Chafing was not sexy. As he made his way through the crowd, he caught snippets of conversation. Most revolved around the snow and when they’d clear the roads. A few were concerned about having to make excuses for work come Monday while others relished the idea of a longer forced vacation. Gabe, for one, didn’t like not having any options. His father had done that enough to him. Once he reached Kat’s side, he set his tray down on the table, only then noticing the woman on the floor at Leather Daddy’s feet. She had a metal leash attached to an eternity collar, with matching metal cuffs at her wrists and ankles. Gabe tried not to let his lip curl. This guy was either using metal for show, which was unnecessary at a place like this, or his slave wore them all the time. A second surreptitious glance showed red, chafed skin at the edges of the metal. Score one for the douche bag in leather. Kat paused midway through her sentence and turned to Gabe. “Speak of the devil! I was just saying you are the go-to person for custom jewelry and leather.” She beamed the smile that made her such a brilliant hostess. “Gabriel, I would like you to meet Master Joseph.” The dining room faded away until all he could see or hear was this poor excuse for a human being. He had a vision of beating him with the hard chain leash he held. Just like your daddy. Kat stuck an elbow in his side, helping to shake off the chills that had almost consumed him. He stuck out his hand, morbidly curious to see the man in action. “Gabe Cassidy.” “Master Joseph.” The man’s limp handshake and insistence on another Dom calling him Master grated on his nerves.

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They sized each other up as only men could do. Before the silence dragged on too long, Gabe said, “You must be new here, but you’re obviously experienced.” It took every ounce of self-control to get out that word. “What brings you to Maison Domine?” “My slave here,” he toed the woman with one boot, “was a member before she contracted with me and suggested we visit.” His lips thinned at the word suggested. Gabe did not have the patience for this asshole. “Well, I hope you enjoy. Kat, if I can borrow you?” Without waiting for the “Master’s” permission, he grabbed his tray and pulled Katrina away. Gabe hoped his actions insulted the pompous asshole. When they were outside the room, he stopped and turned back to Kat, who glared up at him from her five-foot one-inch height. “Gabriel, what in the hell is wrong with you?” “I needed to talk with you.” God, he felt stupid, needing girl talk to get him through a weekend with a beautiful woman like Hope, but he’d rather be momentarily stupid than turn into this father. Or Master Joseph, from all accounts. “Oui, then talk, but I do need to return quickly. And where are you going with all that food?” “Up to my suite.” Her eyebrows popped in surprise. “Why, Gabriel, you would not be hiding out there with Miss O’Shea, would you? Because that is very out of character, ami. People are bound to speculate.” She gently smirked at him. “Which is exactly what I need to talk to you about.” As they walked down the hall, Gabe could hear the occasional sharp cry through the well-padded walls of the private play rooms, but they were, for all intents and purposes, alone. “Hope and I reconnected more than I’d thought.” Kat rolled her eyes. “Yes, I could have told you that, but would you have listened? Non.” “Well, you would have been right.” They paused at the top of the stairs, and Gabe lowered his voice so it wouldn’t echo through the lobby. “I had another nightmare last night.” She turned and cocked her head at him. “Oh. Well, that is new. How long has it been?” She leaned closer to better hear as they hit the first flight of stairs. “Before Hope. But this one was bad.” He rubbed his cheek in frustration, balancing the tray in his other hand. “Hope had a big breakthrough last night”—about your damned Master Joseph—“but she needed pain to get there. Everything was fine—better than fine, really—but then I dreamed we were scening. I wanted to cane her, and when she safe worded? I wanted to make her bleed. I checked her reaction in the mirror, and my father’s face stared back at me.” He shuddered, the inky black claws of the nightmare digging into him once more. “And now I can’t trust myself around her.” Kat pulled the tray from his hands, set it on the bottom step and pinched him. “Ow! What is that for?”

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“You are being stupid, and I thought maybe a little pain would clear your mind.” She had a longsuffering look on her face. “I’m not the one in this conversation who likes pain,” he retorted. She laughed, and Gabe started to regret ever beginning this conversation. “You are very right, and there is a reason I am so well-adjusted. For some of us,” she gave him a pointed look, “pain brings clarity. That is the way of your Hope. Impact play is not about you—it is about her and her need for that emotional release. It clears away every other thought, leaving nothing but blank, empty, blessedly silent mindspace. And that is where someone like me or Hope can start approaching overwhelming problems. Not to mention that it feels good too.” Kat nudged him and waggled her eyebrows. He couldn’t help but smile. “I know all that, you pain slut.” His grin faded. “But what if it’s all just an excuse?” She pinched him again, harder this time. “Ow, woman!” He retreated a step. “That is for being stupid. Now listen. What pleasure do you get from being a Dom?” “That’s irrele—” Kat shushed him. “Just answer the question, Gabriel.” He thought of Hope, of how she’d been so beautiful with her skin flushed from lust and his spankings, how hard she used to come for him after a good flogging. “I love that I can control her reactions to bring her so much pleasure.” “Voila. See, no selfishness there.” He shook his head.”You don’t beat the people you love.” “No, I am usually the one getting beaten.” When her joke fell flat, she sighed and sat him down on the step above his tray. “Gabriel, you have never been like this for all the years I have known you. Nor have I heard you mention the word ‘love’ in the same sentence with another person.” He gaped at her. “I didn’t mean it like that…” His protestations lost momentum at her cynical look. “Sure, and I am your silly American Easter Bunny. Deny it all you want, that is fine. You do not even need to admit it to yourself yet. But at some point, you must realize that to love someone like Hope, you shall need to provide for her. And that will mean giving her pain when she needs it.” Kat leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You are a good man, Gabriel. I just wish you saw what we all do. Enjoy your weekend, and I really hope I do not see you until you are ready to leave Sunday evening.” With a lecherous grin and a wave, she headed back down to the dining hall. Maybe Kat had the right of it. She’d given him so much to think about, he hadn’t even gotten the chance to mention his reservations about Master Joseph. That would have to wait for later, he supposed. For now, he had a date with Hope—and his denial.

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Chapter Nine

When Hope reentered Gabe’s suite, delicious breakfast smells welcomed her in. Gabe wrapped her in a hug and kissed her until her knees went weak. Why had she ever left? Racing overtime, her heart beat out a staccato rhythm, a steady reminder of how easily she’d fallen for him again. This time, she refused to leave without letting him know how she felt. But that could wait until later. They had a full weekend ahead. Longer if the snow didn’t melt soon. Gabe drew her over to the table where her favorite breakfast was laid out on a clean, white tablecloth. A bouquet of calla lilies graced the center. “Wow, you certainly know how to impress the ladies.” He wrapped his arms around her and inched his fingers around her throat. The pressure made her dizzy with lust. “There’s only one woman I care about impressing.” He smacked her ass with a resounding crack. “And you forgot something.” When her eyes stopped lolling around her head from the seductive bite of pain, she said, “Sorry…Sir.” “Good girl.” Releasing her, he pulled out her chair and sat her down before she collapsed from lustinduced weak knee syndrome. “Hungry?” She noted his plate looked identical to hers, except with double-sized portions. His eyes bored into her, setting her nerves aflame and jolting arousal straight to her pussy. “Starved.” She cut off a whimper, knowing he’d make her suffer through breakfast either way. Sinking under the tide of lust this early in the day would only make her arousal worse. “How convenient, Sir. We have everything you could want to eat right here.” She dared a look at him from under her lashes and his eyes had gone dark and hooded. She knew exactly what he wanted to eat. Suppressing a shiver, she grabbed a bite of bacon and about died from the rich, salty flavor. “I see you like your meat salty,” he said with a deadpan expression. She burst out laughing. “You know it, Sir.” He reached out for her hand and squeezed. “You’ll have to remind me later then.” Their conversation slipped into more comfortable breakfast topics. Gabe told her about his new shop and asked about her interior design business. The relaxed atmosphere lulled her into a false sense of security, broken only when he took their empty plates into the kitchenette. Time for the day to really begin. She didn’t know what to expect, but that was half the fun.

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“All right, baby.” He turned and leaned against the counter. “Come here.” He pointed to the floor by his feet. She rose and met him by the counter, gave him a quick kiss and sank to the floor. The tile was cool under her knees as she rested her head against his thigh. Though she couldn’t maintain this position for long without a pillow, it was one of her favorites. She liked feeling small and delicate and cared for sometimes. Of late, she’d been on her own to no end. Relying on someone else for once was a welcome change. Her sigh of contentment ruffled the red strands of hair that partially obscured her vision. She wrapped her arms around his knees and squeezed. He stroked her hair and she had to fight back tears. This kind of tenderness was so foreign to her. Even when they’d dated, she hadn’t really let him comfort her. “What’s the plan for today, Sir?” “You have your choice of staying here or taking over any open playroom downstairs. What we do once we’re there…well, you’ll just have to wait.” His voice went dark like chocolate at the end, piquing her arousal once more. “I’d love to see another one of Ms. Lamont’s famous rooms.” She looked up at him and was momentarily stunned by the deep brown of his eyes, by the expression he wore. It was the same look she imagined she had, but seeing it on him was something she’d not anticipated. Did he even know it was there? “All right, cara, downstairs it is.” He reached down to help her up, pulling her into his embrace as soon as she stood. She loved that he was just a few inches taller than she, enough for his lips to rest against her forehead in a sweet kiss. The emotion clenching her heart overwhelmed her lust. She almost threw out those words, but bit her tongue. “Before we go, we’ve got to get you ready.” “Ready, Sir?” “Yes. Yesterday, everyone still played vanilla. Today, game’s on. And if I recall, you can be quite the exhibitionist.” He pulled her against him, against the hard erection restrained only by his jeans. She wanted more. “Please tell me you still like it.” “Ah yes, my stunning voyeur. You’re in luck, Sir. One exhibitionist, coming right up.” Wiggling her hand between them, she stroked the front of his pants. He hissed and pulled her closer. “Bad girl,” he said, far from serious. “There’s time for that later. Plenty of time.” He pushed her back a step. Smart man—distance was the only thing that would keep her hands to herself. “For now, we need you all gussied up. Did you happen to bring anything festive?” She batted her lashes. “What, little ol’ me, bring naughty clothes?” She paused and watched his eyes heat. “Of course I did, Sir.” She liked to prepare for every eventuality.

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He pulled her back to him and devoured her mouth. Dizziness and lust twined through her at his possessive touch. Damn, that always undid her. When he ended the kiss, his arms were the only reason she didn’t collapse into a puddle of happy, lusty goo. “I even brought them over with me,” she said. “Well, hot damn. Time for a fashion show.” He scooped her up and walked over to the living room where he dropped onto the couch with her still in his arms. “Hop to it, baby.” She rose and snagged her tote from by the door before returning. Once the tote was unzipped, she pulled out a stack of precisely folded garters, bras stacked together, folded and ironed panties, and thighhighs in small plastic boxes. Gabe quirked an eyebrow at her as she laid each set on the table. “What?” He smiled. “Nothing, Ms. Anal Retentive. And you know whatever outfit I choose will get mussed up, right?” Tingles suffused her pussy. She loved when he mussed her up. “Oh yeah, Sir.” She shed her clothes and donned the first of her outfits, thoroughly enjoying whenever Gabe had to adjust his pants. She did a little catwalk strut from the front door to the living room before trading for the second outfit, reveling in the heat of his expression. When she was halfway to the front door, Gabe said, “Screw the rest. You look damn sexy in all of them—let’s go.” Luckily, she wore her favorite violet corset, matching lace panties, and sheer black thigh-highs. She headed the rest of the way to the door, her stilettos clacking against the wooden floor. “Stop,” he said when she was almost there. He came up behind her, bent her against the door, and smacked her ass. The crack echoed through the room and tingled all her naughty bits. “That’s all.” Laughter tinged his voice, and when she turned around to glare, he said, “I couldn’t help myself. You know I’m a little angel.” She burst out laughing. “Sir, you’re about as far from ‘angel’ as one man can get.” “Well shit, you’ve figured me out.” He chuckled along with her, and holy hell was that ever a sight to behold. His eyes lit up and the serious lines of his face softened. And his mouth…wow. Lips begging to be kissed spread to reveal white teeth. Her nipples tightened, recalling the imprint of those teeth on her breasts. He was gorgeous to begin with, but caught in the throes of laughter, he stole her sanity. Gabe grabbed a long bag from the entryway and opened the door. Taking her hand, he led them downstairs, into what she hoped would be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Brunch had taken his mind off the nightmare and he was tempted to laugh at how ridiculously he’d acted earlier. Years ago, Gabe decided to never let his father interfere with his life—kinky or otherwise.

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Good thing too, because Hope looked so good that not playing with her would be a crime. And he prided himself on being a law-abiding citizen. “Hope,” he said, hitting the second flight of stairs downward, “how do you feel about role-playing games?” He envisioned her in a hot cop uniform, bending her authority only to him. The blood rushing to his cock almost made him lightheaded. She paused on the step above him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “That sounds…intriguing. What do you have in mind?” Dear Lord, his thoughts went flying and a Cheshire grin crept across his face. “Anything you want, baby. The only catch is that you’ll have to come over some time to do it.” His mind stuttered. While he was enjoying their weekend, that’s all Hope had promised. He needed to steel himself for the pain of her leaving Sunday. So why had his mouth gone off like that? Her eyes opened wide and wary. “Well…” “No, baby, I didn’t mean to imply—” “Yes. That sounds just perfect.” She took his mouth in a searing kiss, putting him even more off balance. “Perfect,” he said, trying to think beyond her dressed up and at his mercy. He’d always been a fan of mixing things up with the occasional role-playing scene. But there would be time enough for that later. Now he had a sub to arouse and keep on edge until he lost his control and fucked her six ways to Sunday. He’d like to fuck her more than six ways before tomorrow, actually. Gabe had expected the private rooms would be in short supply in the afternoon, but three still didn’t have Do Not Disturb signs on the doors. “Okay, baby, we’ve got the Victorian room from yesterday, the mirror room,” her face twisted in distaste at that one, “and the minimalist room.” Kat really needed better names for this shit. Maybe that’s something she’d let Hope take care of. Hope would rock something like that, he just knew. “Can I see the last one?” she asked, looking far too sexy in her corset for his own good. He’d be lucky to think straight with half the blood gone from his brain. Walking to the third door on the left, he knocked—just in case someone had forgotten the sign—and opened the door when only silence greeted his knock.

Hope had no idea how minimalism and BDSM would intersect, but she’d soon find out. A quick flip of the light switch and the recessed track lighting on the ceiling came to life. The walls stared back, empty and plain, painted a basic white. She mentally shook her head—a nice pale butter-cream would warm the room while still keeping the walls simple. In the back right corner sat a pile of floor pillows in pale greens and blues on top of a queen-sized mattress in matching blue sheets. The mattress was thick enough to comfortably cushion whoever wanted

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to sit but thin enough that it didn’t distract the eye. She’d add some color there, brighter sheets and coordinating pillow cases. Storage benches sat in the near right corner. Their beech wood finish provided some warmth to the room, but their top cushions were still plain white. Minimalism didn’t need to be boring, contrary to popular belief. But all of it was overwhelmed by the less-than-minimalist St. Andrew’s Cross almost flush against the left wall. Standing what must have been seven feet high, its four arms were painted an ominous black. She’d never personally used the x-shaped device, but it had always held some appeal. She’d be bound to it, helpless—her only task would be to sink into the sensation. And, conveniently, she happened to be quite good at that. A smile crept across her lips. “You like?” “Oh yes, definitely, Sir,” she purred. Her mind was already halfway to la-la land. With a cross like that, Gabe would have access to her breasts, her pussy and her whole back. Her entire front too, if that’s how he bound her. The possibilities dizzied her. He went to close and lock the door, flipping the Do Not Disturb sign in the process. A toggle of the light switch and the brightness dimmed, still illuminating but not blinding. “On your knees,” he threw over his shoulder as he went to the corner benches. He lifted each of the three lids in turn, nodding before closing them. “What’s in there, Sir?” she asked, kneeling on the thick carpet. His boots swished against the carpet as he walked back, ending right in front of her knees. “Toys, restraints, protection and medical supplies. I brought my own, but it’s habit to check. Kat’s a stickler for those kinds of things. And having med supplies on hand during each scene is in the contract all the Doms need to sign before coming here.” Her eyebrows arched. “You need to sign a contract?” “Yep,” he said, stroking her hair. “It basically says we’ll be safe and responsible with our partners. And if you don’t follow it, she’s got grounds for revoking membership.” She thought of Master Joseph. “Has it ever happened?” Wouldn’t that be nice, to have him publicly shamed like that? He bent down to her eye level. “On occasion. Do you have more questions or can we get to the fun part now?” His smile was all lust, with heat in his eyes that could turn sand into glass. “Fun, please, Sir.” Arousal swirled through her, tightening her nipples and dampening her thong. “Good girl.” He lifted her up and walked over to the cross, turning to beckon her with one finger. Her heels sank into the carpet as she scampered over. Great for kneeling, but she missed the click of heel on hard flooring.

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He stroked a hand down her side. “God, you have the sexiest hips.” With his hand, Gabe pressed her against the cool wood of the cross, covering her body with his own. Heat poured off him, even through his black T-shirt and jeans, which did nothing to hide the thickness of his erection against the crease of her ass. She whimpered. “Promise me you’ll fuck me again, Sir.” His hips swiveled little circles against her before backing off. Cool air drifted across her back and between her legs, further sensitizing her flesh. “Only if you’re a good girl,” he replied. A trail of mirrors ringed the room at just the right height for Hope to see her and Gabe’s faces reflected. His lips curled into a bare hint of smile at the corners. Boy, was that sexy. Full mirrors would be too much of a distraction, but with this setup, she could lose herself in his eyes. And at that moment, such a reverie seemed preferable to the pain. Yep, she was a goner. “Don’t move an inch.” She heard a zipper—too long to be his jeans, dammit—and rustling noises. “Cara, do you want a blindfold?” She’d always wanted one before, had wanted to block out any visual distractions, but now she wouldn’t give up one second of watching his eyes. “No, Sir.” “All right.” The approval in his voice squeezed her chest. “And,” she hesitated, knowing Gabe was different but still instinctively worried about his reaction, “can I have good, thorough aftercare?” He stroked a hand down her back. “You didn’t like aftercare before.” Was he going to deny her? She hung her head into the vee of the top arms of the cross. “No, you’re right, Sir.” He smacked her ass and she jumped. “I wasn’t turning you down, Hope. Just remarking that this is new for you.” “Oh.” She felt totally out of her element here. “Yeah.” He crowded her. “Yeah?” “Yes, Sir.” God, even saying the words made her skin prickle. And after one day back with the man. What would it be like in a week, a year? Dangerous, delicious thoughts. His body crowded hers once more. “You can have whatever aftercare you like, baby. I’ll hold you as long as you’ll let me.” His look pinned her in place. Forced her to really listen to his words. Chills—the good kind—racked her body. Was it possible he wanted to keep her around after the weekend? He headed to the back of the room, leaving her to her thoughts.

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When he returned, hands full, he buckled cuffs to her ankles before linking them to the eye hooks on the cross. He bracketed her wrists with his much bigger hands. “Would you like me to remove these cuffs, replace them with heavier-duty ones?” “No!” The vehemence of her response shocked her. They were just stupid vanity cuffs, no good for true restraint. But she knew better than that. The cuffs marked her. She belonged to him as long as she wore them, and she’d be damned if she’d willingly take them off. That restrained her, in the best way, more than any true leather or metal binds could. “Okay, baby, I was just checking.” He clipped her wrists to the waiting eye hooks and she gave an experimental tug. Neither the cross nor her cuffs budged. “Careful, sweetheart, don’t chafe your wrists.” He reached up to rub her leather-covered skin and her heart swelled with his thoughtfulness, so different from Master Joseph. She sank into the moment, resting her head against one arm of the X. “Thank you, Sir.” Gabe smiled at her in the mirror before kissing her shoulder and neck. The kisses sent shivers ricocheting through her body and she squirmed against her bonds. And then he bit down on the sensitized juncture of her shoulder and neck, and she came undone. “Good grief, Sir, not fair!” she managed between waves of tingles. She reached to pull his head closer, to keep him there, but she was cuffed, dammit. His wicked laugh taunted her and led into a panty-melting whisper in her ear. “Oh, this is just the beginning, cara.” He pressed her to the X and continued, “First, I’m going to get you all hot and bothered, using only my hands and tongue. And then you’ll get your choice of toys for me to use—crop,” she let out a helpless moan, “flogger,” and another moan, “or paddle.” Beneath the sanity-wrecking swirl of lust and love, Hope realized her love for Gabe added another dimension of pleasure to their play. Her heart didn’t just race from his touch anymore. Her mind didn’t float off into nothing—it floated off into his presence. God, she was beginning to sound like one of those sappy romance heroines. A sharp pinch to her ass brought her back to reality before she could get any sappier. “Oh no you don’t, baby. I saw those eyes glazing over. There’ll be plenty of time to sink into subspace later. Besides, you haven’t heard yet what the rest of my plans entail.” She gaped at his reflection. “I get more? What, is it my birthday?” “No, it’s not, and yes, I still remember when your birthday is.” He’d known exactly what she was thinking, damn him. He met her gaze in the stripe of mirrors. “Don’t give me that look. You’re an open book for me, baby. From the way your pupils dilate when I do this,” he nibbled her ear and Hope sagged against her bonds, “to the taut skin of your neck and cheeks,” he trailed his hands down to cup her hips, squeezed, before one hand dipped to her wetness, “to this.” Her throat went tight with emotion. “Yes, this sweet, tight, hot cunt that I’m going to sink into once you’re crazed from my touch.”

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A whimper escaped from her throat and she lolled her head back to rest on his shoulder. He shifted to capture her mouth with his, kissing her with such passion and skill that she was glad for the cuffs keeping her upright. Gabe pulled away and took a step back. She laid her head against her arm and used the narrow mirrored band to figure out what he was doing. Was he just staring at her? Fine, she could stare back. He looked dangerous in the dim light, tattoos running up both arms, firm jaw clenched, a nose that had been broken a time or two. And all that before she got to his eyes. Focused, relentless and dark as hell. She shivered, loving the contradiction between the tender way he treated her and his bad-boy appearance. “Hope, you are so beautiful.” Strong hands rubbed her scalp, down to her neck and shoulders, until she was a puddle of sated goo. “Your hair…” She saw him lean in and inhale. “Every time I smell lavender, I think of you. And your collarbone is so sexy, and your shoulders, too, all soft lines and pale skin. So perfect, delicate and flawless.” The man really was an artist, whether using his hands or his words to create something of beauty. Hope was both awed and jealous because she lacked his facility with sweet words. Awe won by a mile. Strong hands drifted up and down her ribs, his fingers brushing along the sides of her breasts. Long sweeps of his calloused fingers, which only amped up the eroticism, teased the flesh inches from her hardened, anxious nipples. “Please, Sir, touch me!” At his rumbling laugh, her pussy clenched. God, had he classically conditioned her like one of Pavlov’s dogs? All he had to do was be and she got turned on. “I thought I was touching you, pet. Should I stop?” “No!” She tried wiggling into his hands, her aching nipples begging for relief, but he pinned her hips to the X with his own, restricting her movements and pressing an insistent erection against her ass. “No? And without giving a specific request? You know better, baby. That’ll be two spankings.” “Okay, Sir. Sorry.” She tried for contrite but her words came out lust-ridden and ravenous. He smirked. “And a third for fudging. You’re not sorry—you love this.” He stepped to her side and the cool air on her inflamed skin was welcome, but a poor trade for the press of Gabe’s body. She relaxed against the X and waited patiently for her discipline. Three smacks landed against her right ass cheek, each sharper than the last. “Please, Sir, more?” “I don’t think so, Hope. You’ll have to earn those. Now to get off to a good start—what did you want me to touch?”

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“My nipples, Sir.” He stalked around to the other side of the X so they were face-to-face. A long, deep, wet kiss later and she was panting as if she’d run a marathon. “What, these nipples?” He’d cupped her breasts while she regained her bearings. With each squeeze and roll, she keened in pleasure-pain. His rough touch was perfect. “My ass, Sir. Sp—” she gasped when he gave one nipple a particularly erotic twist. “Spank me.” If he kept that up, there was no way coherence would be possible. And he knew it too, damn him. A grin melted across her face. She loved playing these games with Gabe. But it didn’t feel like a game anymore. Or if it was, the stakes had grown. She’d lose more than just a competition if she lost him again. He growled and captured her mouth in a searing kiss. She reached for what she knew would be a tight, hard erection, but her arm only got two inches before being snapped back to the X. “Let me touch you,” she managed between breaths. “C’mon, Sir, I’ll lick you and suck you just the way you like.” Gabe paused, swayed closer, and she thought she’d won him over, but then he took a step backward. Looked like she got more punishment. Win-win either way. “That’ll come later—don’t worry, you demanding wench. And that has earned you another punishment for trying to speed me along.” He stalked behind her, dragging his warm, artist-rough fingers across inch after inch of her back. He branded her flesh as he’d branded her heart. She wanted to feel his weight against her again. It made her feel so loved, so protected. His body heat radiated to her and his dark, leathered smell made her swoon. Slap after slap landed on her backside until she knew the skin would be red and warm. Pain flooded from her ass to the rest of her body, turning her nerves up to eleven. The stings washed over her, erased everything but that moment. She didn’t feel anything but his hand, care about anything but Gabe and his desires. He pressed her body to the cross and his body heat made the wood feel cold. “I fear my patience is in short supply.” His words trickled through her haze of lust, but just barely. “So choose now—crop, flogger or paddle?” After a few failed attempts, she managed, “Crop, Sir.” It could redden or bruise with ease and had a stingy touch. She needed the pain—enough would clear her head, and she’d figure out what to do with her new, intense feelings for Gabe. She watched his retreating figure in the mirror. Even clothed, his body was unmistakably muscled and powerful. With a black leather crop in hand, he returned to her. She wanted to ask how many lashes, but the thought was stolen by his first strike. Fire arced across her right thigh and she sagged against the bonds,

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needing to rub the tender area but unable to do so. One heartbeat, then two, then three before another smack erupted through the room—leather on ass this time. The slaps formed their own beat, the baseline to her moans and gasps and squeals. Hope felt as if she were very far away, only the pain reaching her. Time, light, darkness, heat, cold—nothing had meaning except the cadence of being cropped. Then it slowed, and her heartbeat along with it. No, more, she wanted to scream, but using her voice seemed too much effort at the moment. “How are you doing?” One hand caressed her tender skin, bringing a shadow of the initial pain. She struggled for the words, but only managed, “More, Sir.” Through hooded eyes she saw him straighten his shoulders. “Are you sure?” She was close, so close to breaking. Those tears were essential, necessary, cleansing. She hadn’t cried like this, a soul-deep cry, in far too long. And he wanted to stop now? “No. Please, Sir, more. I need more,” she somehow spoke. And as her eyes closed, he picked up the rhythm once again, each smack drawing her closer to the edge. It was like orgasm, only purer. Each blow drew away some of the poison left behind by Master Joseph. Once that was gone, her fears and doubts about Sir melted away too. It was so clean, so good, the tears started rolling down her cheeks. She’d never felt so free of tension. It was beautiful.

With each blow, Gabe’s heart shrank away from the sound. How could this be helping her? He tried to block out his father’s voice and listen to Kat’s, to Hope’s saying this was something she craved. And he might have conquered those fears too. In his favor, Hope had not gone numb under the beating—he’d seen that before, where subs sank so deeply into the feeling that they shut down. She was twitching under each stroke, making her cuffs rattle against the St. Andrew’s Cross, moaning and yelping and turning him on more with every second. He’d thought he was doing so well. During a check of her reflection in the mirror—even someone as closed as Hope revealed a great deal on her face during a scene—he saw her tears, just like in his nightmare. Cathartic, maybe for her. For Gabe, each one was a liquid reminder of how quickly his control could spiral away. Another check in the mirror, and his father’s face looked back at him. “Hit her harder,” he said. “You’re a Cassidy. Our women need to be taught lessons.” He jerked back, dropped the crop and tried to catch his breath. Yeah, like that was going to work. He was flooded with memories of his childhood, of his father’s beatings and his mother’s tears. The tears he knew Hope had cried as Joseph whipped her.

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Dammit. He envisioned her begging, crying, then stoically taking the vicious beatings, and it made him cringe in self-loathing. He was no better than that man, taking someone pure and sweet and pushing her limits. Even if she’d said she wanted to play—hell, she’d instigated it—he was supposed to look out for her. The man’s arrival had just reopened her emotional wounds and here he was, taking advantage of her vulnerability, just like Joseph, just like his father. With any other woman, he would have demanded she wait longer to give herself time to recover her center before they played. With Hope, the control on which he prided himself fell to the wayside. He wanted her too much to listen to his own reasoning. What if she regressed? What is she was still flying from their reconciliation and sex last night, so much that it masked her vulnerability? Worst of all…what if he really couldn’t stop himself when she needed him to? It stopped him cold in his tracks. There was only one thing to do. He had to leave her—for her own good, before he took more joy from her pain than she was willing to give. Seeing her jump under his hand was one of the most erotic things he’d ever laid eyes on, second only to seeing her orgasm. With his tenuous hold on control, slipping from the heady excitement of having her back, he didn’t trust himself to stop. Even if she did. “Sir?” Hope’s voice still had that dreamy subspace quality to it. He hated ripping her out of it, but it was his only option, before she went any deeper. Before she mixed up past and present and saw him not as himself, but at Master Joseph. He’d heard other Doms talking about it, had read about it, and refused to let it happen to his Hope. It killed him, and might just break her heart, but it was better than continuing and leaving her emotionally shredded due to his actions. He would not take joy in her suffering when that loomed as a consequence. Without words, he unbuckled first her ankles then her wrists, lifting her off the cross to cradle in his arms. He wanted to move faster, get the hell out of there, but he needed to get Hope settled. “Done already?” The question in her eyes asked so much more. “Yes, baby, we’re done.” The lump in his chest grew at the sight of the tear stains on her cheeks. Run, run, run! He laid her down on the corner bed and she winced. “What hurts?” She winced again, whether from tenderness or his tone, he didn’t know. “I’m a little sore.” Her gaze locked to his. “But I’m ready for whatever you’ve got planned, Sir. Including thorough aftercare.” Her grin blazed after her words. She truly wanted to be coddled and soothed for once.

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The one time he couldn’t bear to do it because if he stayed, he’d never leave her. And next time they played, he wasn’t sure he’d find the willpower to hold back, even to save her from herself. Once she was situated on the covers, he stepped back from the bed. The lustful look in her eyes faded. “Oh. We’re…done.” She deflated, pulling the sheets over her body as if to protect herself. Seeing that look of defeat on her face hurt more than he wanted to admit. “I’m—I’m sorry, Hope.” He made for the door, praying she’d be able to forgive him one day.

Hope didn’t think he was serious. Gabe would never leave her without aftercare or without reason. But when the door closed behind him, a shaft of betrayal pierced her heart. The tension, which had melted away under the crop, returned full force, with friends in tow, crushing her under the weight. Hell, she was even too far gone to cry. She lay in bed, staring at the blank white wall, hoping it was all a bad dream.

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Chapter Ten

Hope had no idea how long she’d been lying there, only that she hadn’t the slightest inclination to move. After her Sir—no, Gabriel—released her bonds and left, she’d enveloped herself in the cool sheets of the bed to find solace. But only desolation lingered there. She should have been lying there in the loving arms of her Sir, not curled on herself in pain. As minutes passed, her thoughts darkened. Self-doubt and recriminations replaced any trace of anger or disappointment she had in Gabriel. Things like this didn’t happen twice without some blame laid at the feet of the victim. Logically, she knew that wasn’t true, but the words circled her head like vultures preying upon the deadened pieces of her heart until all she felt or heard or saw were her failures. She’d been too demanding with Master Joseph and too…needy? Not needy enough with Gabriel. Maybe he sensed how deep her feelings had become. Maybe reconnecting in the first place had been a mistake. And to top it off, she’d not even been introduced to Ms. Lamont—the only reason she’d come to Maison Domine. The whole weekend was a goatfuck of epic proportions. But no matter the cause, the pain coursing through her body swamped her, drowned her, intensified with every breath until her vision grew blurry and she didn’t see anything beyond total darkness. She wanted it to stop. You need pain to keep you grounded? the vultures whispered. Well, here is it. You came seeking pain, and you got what you wanted. Her shoulders hunched farther and she tightened her body into a smaller ball to ward off the ugly truth. She’d come to Maison this weekend to explore unfinished business with Gabriel, to scene, to siphon off her stress. He’d simply provided her with a convenient excuse to accept his invitation. A soft knock roused her from a fitful nap she hadn’t realized she’d slipped into. “Ye—” Her voice cracked from the emotions choking her. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes?” “Hope?” A deep male voice resonated through the room and her treacherous heart jumped, thinking Gabriel had returned for her. But she knew that wasn’t his voice. Slipping into an unaffected persona with the ease of an expert, she replied, “Yes, how may I help you?” As long as she focused her energy on her mask, she wouldn’t be able to think about the pain. She crossed her arms and dug her fingers into her biceps, which siphoned some of her unshed tears into physical pain. Much more tolerable.

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“Can I come in?” Her mind flitted across questions about the mystery man at her door, but she refocused her thoughts to playing happy. Didn’t matter who he was, no one would come through that door until she was good and ready. “No, I’m sorry, the room is currently in use.” She uncurled and turned to face the door. Her eyes latched on to the St. Andrew’s Cross and her mask slipped before she could shove it back into place. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but could I at least talk to Gabriel?” Hearing his name tore at her viciously. A sob leaked from her lips before she could restrain it. The door opened a few inches, and a sweet female voice drifted to her. “Hope, please let us in. It’s Jax and Lara. We’d like to help.” Once more, her throat tightened and choked her words. Lara must have taken that as assent because she entered, wearing a corset she recognized as one of Gabe’s designs, followed by the darkly handsome Jax. “We…we thought you’d might need some company.” Lara’s expression held sorrow and empathy so genuine Hope couldn’t pretend anymore. She started trembling worse than when Master Joseph had lashed her. Tears rolled down her cheeks, uncontrolled, and Lara said, “You poor thing.” She turned to Jax and he nodded, anger etched into his face. “I’m sorry, whatever I did,” she said to Jax, his anger raking claws through her guilty conscience. The lines softened and he followed Lara over to the bed. “No, sweetheart, you didn’t do anything wrong.” They sat on the edge of the mattress, Jax’s legs extended onto the carpet and Lara’s curled under her. Lara wiped away the tears on Hope’s cheeks before taking her hand. “Hope, do you want to tell me what happened?” She felt like a little girl seeking her mother’s comfort, but at that point, she needed someone solid and calm. And Lara radiated peace and happiness underneath her compassion. “I don’t know if I can.” She choked the words out and new tears tracked down her cheeks. “Then I’ll start, okay?” Hope nodded. Jax wrapped one large hand around her ankle, and the gesture was oddly soothing. This human connection felt good. “You and Gabriel came here this weekend for different reasons. He wanted closure, and you wanted to meet Katrina Lamont.” Hope’s eyes widened. “How…” Lara’s small grin brushed away more of the weight on Hope’s chest. “We had dinner last week and he couldn’t stop talking about you.” Her grin faded and her blue eyes latched on to Hope’s. “When you left

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LA, he was devastated. We didn’t talk much while he was in New York, but I know he missed you every day.” Hope’s heart sank. It was her fault. Lara must have read her expression because she rushed to continue. “I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty. I just want you to know how much he cares for you. And I’m not excusing his behavior, but you deserve to know you hold his heart.” Her own stuttered at that comment. “Then why…why would he leave me here in the middle of a scene?” Saying it out loud made it more real. She sobbed and prayed that crying would exorcise some of the pain. Jax’s hand rubbed up and down her calf, and Hope remembered she wore practically nothing. She pulled at the sheet to cover herself up. “Don’t be embarrassed,” Lara said. “I’ve seen it all. Hell, I have it all, and then some extra.” Her wry smile put Hope at ease. She still draped the sheet over her torso but wasn’t as desperate or frantic to do so. Lara began stroking her hair, just like Hope’s mother had done when she was young. Just like Gabe did. “I have my suspicions as to why Gabe left you. He’s…” She hesitated and looked up at Jax. He nodded and Lara finished. “He went through a lot as a child. Again, no excuses, of course, but I don’t want you to think this is about you.” Between the gentle stroking and Lara’s soft words, some of the tension drained from her. The hurt lingered, but it wasn’t a sharp, stinging pain anymore. Her muscles relaxed, her fists unclenched, and she heaved a sigh, releasing some tightness in her chest. “Thank you for coming to me.” Jax spoke up. “You needed aftercare. And Gabe—” He cut himself off at Lara’s hand on his. “Gabriel was unable to do so.” She nodded. “How did you know?” Lara’s lips pursed before she answered. “We saw him outside on the deck, standing in the snow. We’ve been friends long enough to know something was up. Besides, he wouldn’t be out there without you under normal circumstances.” “I don’t think that’s true.” The knot in her throat reformed. Jax’s grip tightened. She looked his way and was caught up in his stare. “Yes, it is. That man’s got it bad for you, Hope. I’ve never seen him like this.” He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “He better not be an idiot about this for too long.” Lara took up the conversation. “But until then, you have time to figure out your feelings for him.” She paused and tilted Hope’s chin up to meet her eyes. “Do you have any tender spots?” She was a beautiful woman, all blue eyes and blonde hair and genuine concern in her face. “Mainly my butt and thighs.”

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“Hope, why don’t you let me put some arnica on it, so bruises don’t pop up.” Hope opened her mouth to protest, but Lara cut her off. “No, don’t say you enjoy having the bruises, because until you work things out with Gabe, they’ll be a reminder of what happened. So, c’mon, let’s go.” She turned to Jax. “Will you grab the tube?” He rose and riffled through one of the storage benches, returning with the arnica. “I’ll step out for a minute.” While he’d been comforting to have around, having him see her almost-bare ass would have been too much. It was bad enough that someone other than Gabe would see, but Lara had the right idea, so she turned over and pushed aside the sheet. Lara uncapped the tube and as the cool, soothing gel hit her tender skin, Hope thought about Jaxon’s words. Her mind rebelled against the idea of forgiving Gabe, but her heart leaped at the possibility. And it was her heart that asked, “Do you really think he’ll still want me? I don’t understand why he would have reacted that way—just leaving like that, and while I was sinking into subspace too—but there must be some valid reason. What if, whatever I did wrong, I do it again?” “That,” Lara replied, “you’ll have to figure out with Gabe. If you’re willing to.” Hope thought of the pain of leaving him the first time, and of how much more she loved him now. If she left, she would hurt. If he turned her down, she’d hurt. But only one of those options had the possibility for happiness. “Hell yes, I’m willing. He wanted closure? Great. Think forever together is closure enough?” Lara patted her leg. “Good girl. And you’re all done. There should be some robes in the recessed closet over in the corner, if you’d like.” Hope stood and thanked her, praying she’d made the right decision to give Gabe another chance. Ready or not, here I come, Sir.

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Chapter Eleven

The third floor of Maison Domine rarely had visitors. Guests were usually too busy socializing or playing to head up there. On the cliffside lay Katrina’s apartment, which took up half the floor. Facing away was a small indoor/outdoor lounge. Occasionally guests would gather there to smoke cigars and relax, but today he was alone. And go figure, it was freezing outside on the balcony, but the cold was a welcome punishment. Gabe had hoped being alone would give him some insight. Instead, he wallowed in self-loathing. Hated his father for having this much power, Joseph for mirroring his own dark side, but he hated himself more. What kind of Dominant threatened to lose control during a scene? Nausea swept over him. He grabbed a folding chair from inside and sank onto it in the cold afternoon breeze. Maybe he’d be able to hide out up here until the roads were clear. The couches inside were long enough for him to sleep on, and a bathroom was tucked into the corner. Sounds from the big snow plows already echoed through the mountains, so it wouldn’t be long now. Katrina had cleared her drive down to the main road using her pickup truck and its snowplow attachment. The ice was melting on the black pavement, rivulets of water running into the snow banks on either side. While the view from this side of the house wasn’t as stunning, Gabe still found a measure of peace in it. They were high on the mountain, so acres of lush green forest sprawled below. On a clear day, he’d be able to see Los Angeles, but not today. A burned patch here and there marred the landscape, but also gave it character. Low clouds still hung in the sky, threatening another bout of snow. Yeah, that’s about how he felt, gray and gloomy and as if something horrible were looming on the horizon. He had an idea what it could be, but Gabe forced his mind away from such things. With his giant fuck up on a constant loop in his mind, there was little room for anything else. Each replay hooked into his heart and ripped a piece away. What had she ever seen in him? And how he not seen this dark part of himself? True, he hadn’t played in over two years, which was plenty of time for that kind of darkness to fester, but still. The signs had to have been there…somewhere. Cradling his head in his hands, Gabe closed his eyes and lost himself in the nothingness created by the snow. People were inside, the animals were quiet, even the trees blowing were muffled by the heavy snow on their branches. Everything except the cold and his agony faded away.

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This whole weekend had been a selfish mistake. Why hadn’t he just called Katrina to refer Hope? He’d used it as a bribe instead, knowing he’d find a way into a scene with her. And that was the real kicker—under the guise of wanting closure, he managed to get it. Just not the way he’d envisioned it turning out. The door behind him popped open and Gabe lifted his head. Master Joseph walked out, cigarillo and lighter in one hand, folding chair in the other. “Mind if I join you? The little lady is being troublesome and I needed an escape before I punish her again. Seems like you had the same idea.” Gabe sent a noncommittal nod, so deeply ensconced in his own regrets he had little loathing left over for this man. Joseph lit up and took a big puff of his cigarillo. “So, kiddo, what are you doing up here?” he asked. “Just getting a breath of fresh air,” he replied grudgingly. So much for his quiet escape. The man exhaled a big puff of strawberry-scented smoke. “Ah, your slave being a righteous bitch too?” The man’s voice and words grated on his fried nerves. “Something like that.” Gabe prayed the man would leave him alone if Gabe were antisocial enough. “Mine, she’s a little brat.” So much for that brilliant idea. Joseph seemed to talk just to hear the sound of his voice. “A good beating set her straight, though.” Gabe’s head shot up and he stared at the man. Joseph nodded. “Yep, she’ll not be uppity again.” Wanting the full story to take to Kat, he prompted, “Women. Can’t live with ’em, can’t beat ’em too hard.” Joseph nodded again, exhaling more strawberry smoke. “What did she do?” Gabe asked. The other man tried to blow a smoke ring, but it came out as a misshapen puff. “She owed me ten strokes for speaking out of turn at breakfast.” Ah, a man who loved his high protocol. 24/7 if his limited knowledge was any indication. It was so not his kink, but Gabe nodded, trying to keep his face blank. The man continued. “When we got back to the room, I ordered her to select the instrument of her punishment. The uppity cunt chose a paddle.” “But didn’t you ask her to choose?” Joseph rolled his eyes. “You must be new at this. Asking her to choose is a measure of her guilt. The harder the punishment is, the more she acknowledges your dominance over her and her need for your forgiveness.”

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Blood pressure skyrocketing, Gabe said, “What exactly did she do at brunch?” Throwing him an annoyed look, Joseph replied, “She dared to introduce herself to Katrina Lamont as if they were equals.” Joseph’s look said he expected Gabe to get it. Yeah, definitely old-school high protocol. Just begged for the subs to mess up, given the contrast to real life social norms. With eyebrows raised, Gabe dug further. “Ah, she hasn’t learned to wait for permission yet. I’m surprised you didn’t punish her on the spot.” “I thought about it. But she’s a little exhibitionist. Probably disobeyed in hopes of getting a good public walloping.” Joseph reached out and patted Gabe on the knee, tapping ash from his cigarillo onto Gabe’s boots in the process. He fought down the instinct to grab Joseph’s smelly tobacco and chuck it over the rail. “Now listen closely. Without you, a slave is nothing, but sometimes they forget that. Take breakfast for example. My slave eats what I give her, no more, no less. She talks when I give her permission, and at no other time. And when someone new is introduced? She keeps her damn eyes down and does not shake hands with anyone until I say so.” A vein had popped up on Joseph’s temple during the tirade and it now throbbed with passion. He smoothed a hand across his chin as a lecherous smile slithered across his lips. “But it makes it even better to punish them when they break even the most basic rules. Some of the slaves will only learn through severe discipline.” Joseph shifted in his seat as if he was rearranging a hard-on. Gabe’s stomach turned. “She sounds like a handful, but you obviously have experience with this kind of woman.” “Oh, you have no idea.” The man gave a bitter laugh. “I had this one slave a few years back, and she was a little cunt.” Gabe reeled at the insult but played along, needing as much ammo as possible. He nodded at Joseph. “Hot young thing, barely twenty, and with the tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Redheads, damn, they’re fiery.” Joseph waggled his eyebrows and Gabe’s stomach curdled. “Really. So she was one that couldn’t be tamed?” He laughed, a nails-on-the-chalkboard sound. “They can all be tamed, with the right Master. She was fun because she held out. The best part,” Joseph leaned in, “is breaking them. They’ve got all this spunk, but once you’ve handled them right, they’re docile as lambs.” Gabe didn’t want to hear more. He got up to leave. “Sorry, man, I’ve gotta grab lunch. Low blood sugar and all that.” Joseph nodded and gestured toward the door. “Be my guest, kiddo.” Gabe turned to go and had one foot in the door when he heard, “Hope could have been my greatest conquest too.”

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He spun around so fast he had to steady himself on the doorframe. “What did you just say?” Shaking his head with disappointment and smug superiority, Joseph explained. “Hope was her name, and I’d hoped, ha ha, that she would be my perfect slave. She was so malleable, so sexy, and all mine. I’d been her first everything—first fuck, first Dominant, first punishment. I’ll tell you, that was a high.” “What happened?” he gritted through his teeth. Joseph’s long-suffering sigh grated on Gabe’s already raw nerves. “She broke her contract and I had to let her go. She was being punished and whined that the whip had cut her.” He scoffed. “It was nothing— a little red welt, and she was acting like she was going to bleed out! I denied her aftercare as further punishment for questioning my judgment. The next morning, she was gone, and with my locking cuffs and eternity collar too! I thought about prosecuting her for theft but decided she wasn’t worth the hassle after all.” Gabe stalked over and, without thinking, yanked the fuckwad to his feet. He growled in his face, “You are a pathetic excuse for a man, and an even worse Dominant. Hope is a beautiful woman, and your treatment could have left her broken inside if she weren’t so strong. She deserves to be worshiped, made love to, coddled.” The man’s eyes flashed in anger. “Then we must not be talking about the same Hope. The one I knew needed the pain.” “Hope O’Shea does not need to be beaten to be happy!” A haughty grin replaced the ire on Joseph’s face. “Ah, so we know the same woman. It’s her escape, kiddo, and if you can’t give it to her, that’s worse than what you say I did. You’re damning her to carry all that sorrow and tension, letting it build up until the pain of it drives her mad, or worse.” His eyebrow cocked in challenge and Gabe shoved him backward to stumble over his chair and drop his cigarillo when he fell to the ground. “She’s just fine without the pain!” His fists clenched. What did this asshole know about his Hope anyway? Pleasure-pain, sure, but heavy pain? No. She didn’t need it. He couldn’t give it. Joseph stood and brushed the snow from his ridiculous leather pants. “Pain is part of who she is. And a man who can’t give that to her is unworthy of her time. I was worthy—she simply couldn’t handle my demands. But after being with you, I’m sure she’ll come running back to me.” He laughed. “A Dom who can’t punish his own sub! I thought I’d heard them all.” Joseph, who stood at least five inches shorter than Gabe, stalked up to him and said, “Why don’t I just look her up when I get home. No rules against a man having two slaves. I’ll remind her of what a real Master is.”

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Gabe clocked him in the jaw with an uppercut. He went spiraling to the deck and stayed there, moaning like a little girl. Turning on Joseph, Gabe hauled ass off the deck. He needed to see Hope, make sure she was okay. And then think about what Joseph had said. Exiting the lounge, he found himself face-to-face with Katrina, who had never looked so angry. “Oh, I’m glad you’re here. We need to talk about Master Joseph.” Gabe threw a thumb over his shoulder in the semi-conscious man’s direction. “Later.” Her terse voice gave him pause. “Is Hope okay? We didn’t play hard. I checked her circulation before leaving.” He brushed a hand across his goatee. “Yes, and that is exactly the problem.” Kat’s eyes grew sad. “Merde, Gabe, you abandoned your submissive without giving, or even offering, aftercare. You did not bring her down from subspace, you yanked her from it.” Her eyes darted away and she took a sharp breath before meeting his gaze head-on. “I am putting you on probationary status again. No guests, observation for at least your first five scenes, and no overnight stays. Three months.” Gabe stared at her, his jaw clenched. This was not a time to argue. He had a woman to see. With a curt nod, he said, “And Master Joseph? He’s an abusive bastard. Used to be Hope’s Master and he beat her then refused aftercare. He’s on the balcony. He fell, poor thing.” The corner of Kat’s lip twitched. “Oui, I shall look into it. Clumsy men.” Her serious face sank back. “And I know another so-called Dom who left his sub without aftercare. And beyond that,” she lasered on to him, “he did not even give her enough sensation for catharsis. I am thinking, Gabriel, you should stick to rope sluts. I know many a good Dom who covets your collection of impact toys, and they would gladly take them off your hands, mon ami.” “No. I haven’t had trouble with this until Hope. Until this weekend. It’s complicated, Kat.” “Oui, cherie, it always is from your perspective. But I think it is simple. You did not care about those other women. You love Hope, I can see it in your eyes.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “Do not argue with me. I have seen many people fall in love here, yes? And a woman just bottoming for a man would not be so devastated were he to leave her.” A stab of pain lashed through his heart at the knowledge that she was somewhere, hurting because of him. “She is falling in love with you too, Gabriel. Remember what I say, and believe it this time—Hope is a tender woman, but she needs that edge of pain to keep her grounded. Tears may sometimes come of that, but you must trust her to give her safe word if the pain is too much. If you cannot, you must set her free.” He nodded before walking past her, exhaustion and determination etched in his every movement.

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She caught his arm and he looked at her over his shoulder. “You must trust yourself too, Gabriel. I know of few Dominants as good-hearted as you. Make sure you believe it before going back to her or this will simply happen again.”

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Chapter Twelve

Jax and Lara had finally convinced her to head back to her room. They said to stay there until Gabe figured out his ass from his elbow—Lara’s words, not hers—but she planned to leave as soon as the roads cleared. While she waited, she showered and changed out of that damned corset. She even removed the cuffs Gabe had placed on her wrists. That was more painful than she’d expected. The physical reminder of possession was missing, just like Gabe. She hated being maudlin, but it seemed better at that moment than being angry. Not for the scene, no, but for not telling her about his childhood. Part of her didn’t want to know, didn’t want to make Gabe dredge up those memories, but the logical part of her knew they were already plaguing him, as her experiences with Master Joseph had choked her until Gabe made her talk about it. Now it was her turn to support Gabe. And she would, dammit, whether he wanted her to or not. He needed to talk about whatever was bothering him, and there was no better time than now. He couldn’t drive off with the roads closed, and even escaping outside would have a limited time frame. No, it was time to corner him and get some answers, for both their sakes. She’d be putting herself, her heart, on the line. She needed all the guts she could muster.

Back in his room, Gabe threw on a comfy T-shirt instead of his button-up, removed his boots and padded around the carpet in his socks and slacks. He paced, dreading what had to come next. What if Hope refused to see him again? He had unfinished business with her. She deserved answers, and to give them, he’d have to explain about his father, which he didn’t often do. He feared people would see him as his father all over again, just with a better guise for his sadistic needs. He’d need to open up about his fears. Let himself be vulnerable as she had been to him. Maybe he was searching for absolution, maybe recrimination, but whatever the result, things needed to be said. Beside his bed, he stopped pacing and a plan coalesced in his mind. He needed to apologize, big time, and show her how much he’d always cared for her. Changing into jeans and sandals—street clothes—

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would put them on more equal footing than scene clothes, he hoped. He grabbed the box holding her collar and headed for the second floor. Here goes…something. I hope. For my Hope.

A sharp rap on her door startled Hope out of one of her favorite meditative positions. During her mother’s illness, she’d found meditation to be the only thing, aside from discipline, that could soothe her frazzled nerves. That, and reorganizing, but her siblings hadn’t appreciated her three a.m. Feng Shui efforts. Uncurling from Child’s Pose, she stretched and opened the door. Gabe. Her heart tripped over itself before resuming a high-tempo beat. “Hi.” “Can I come in?” She stood back and gestured inside. Gabe settled onto the couch and awkwardness filtered through the room. He was carrying a book-sized box, but her curiosity was overshadowed by the pain etched on his face. He patted the seat next to him, and though she knew it was a bad idea to sit so close, she obeyed. “Hope…” He paused and scratched his goatee. A deep breath later, he said, “Hope, I fucked up. I’m so sorry.” She wanted to forgive him right then, to take away his guilt and pain, but her own pain still lingered. She settled on, “Thank you.” Shifting in his seat, Gabe placed the box on the coffee table and then grabbed her hands in his own. Hell, she loved the feel of his large, rough hands on hers. They were so…Gabe. Strong yet tender, hardworking yet capable of the most delicate of tasks. “There are things about me you should know.” “I know,” she answered. At his look of surprise, she said, “Jax and Lara came in after you…left. They comforted me, did the whole aftercare thing. And mentioned you had some difficulties as a child.” Her voice softened. His face was so full of pain, she couldn’t bring herself to coerce the story out of him. “Gabe, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” He sighed and seemed to deflate, his rigidly held posture slumping against the back of the couch. “You deserve to know.” He tugged his earring before retaking her hand. “My father was not a good man. He drank too much and came home more bitter every night. Having kids hadn’t been his idea. My brother and I knew that from the beginning.” His hands tensed around hers and her thumb drew circles on his palm. In the silence, she stared at their intertwined fingers, her pale skin against his tanned. Scars dotted his skin and she could feel more on his palms. The back of his hands was peppered with crisp black hairs bisected by the occasional scar or five. She’d always thought they were from his leather work, but what if they’d been inflicted by his father? The thought chilled her.

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Gabe cleared his throat and Hope surreptitiously looked at his face. His eyes were shiny and wet, but no tears were present. It tore her up to see him like this. “My mother took the brunt of his anger. He’d stumble in, drunk, and beat her if dinner wasn’t ready, or if it was cold, or if she didn’t obey his every whim. She was like his slave. He beat her a lot, sometimes with his hands, sometimes with a branch, sometimes with rope—whatever he could find. And whenever he could come up with a half-decent reason to.” He looked away, staring out the balcony doors. Needing to comfort him more than she needed to be angry, Hope cuddled against his side and wrapped her arms around his neck. As she settled under his chin, he finished his story. “I was twelve when I realized how much my mother was sacrificing. When my brother Thad or I made a mistake, she’d try to take the blame or to distract him from us.” His face soured. “But that didn’t work so well. I got more than my share of abuse, though Thad was spared from much of it. “Two years later, he lost it and landed my mother in the hospital. She told them she’d fallen down a flight of stairs, but they knew. And they did nothing. My father had pull in our town. No one crossed him. Not even the local police. He’d told us, time and time again, that he’d kill us all if we ever called the cops.” She squeezed him and laid a gentle kiss on neck. “I take it you didn’t listen.” A rumble of assent rolled through his chest. “Yeah. I knew it was only a matter of time before he got violent enough to actually kill Mama, and then he’d be coming after us for real. So I called the county police and they arrested him, luckily. He served a nice, long sentence for abuse and child endangerment. When he got out, we all got restraining orders against him, just in case. I haven’t seen him since.” “See, you saved her. Few children would have been brave enough to do that.” He scoffed. “Yeah, and left her helpless. She’d never held a job, had no idea how to exist outside of our house. She was bitterly angry with me for years. And I was left to feed, clothe and raise Thad. But we made it. Our grandmother, the Italian one, helped when she could, but it was mostly the three of us figuring it out as we went along.” She could feel the tension still in him and her heart sank. “There’s more, isn’t there.” “Yeah. As they dragged my father away, he shouted and cursed, but one thing he said was pure truth, as far as he knew it. He stopped in front of me as the cops were bringing him to the squad car and said, ‘Just wait until you’re older. You’ll understand. You’re a Cassidy, and we keep our women in line.’ “I spent the years after that honing my control, keeping a tight rein on my emotions, my actions. And no one makes me lose my head like you do. Then hearing about Master Joseph was just a vivid reminder about how easily I could hurt you. All the implements of pain within reach, a sub unable to move…” She captured his jaw between her hands. “And you think you’re like them, or could be.” He nodded and Hope smiled, yearning to forgive him, but not fully ready.

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“Oh Gabe, I love you, but you’re crazy. You’re caring and loving and insightful. You give pain for discipline and healing and pleasure. Your father? The pain was to make him feel better. It had nothing to do with anyone else. Master Joseph was the same.” His brown eyes were haunted. “But I love it. I get off on it. How fucked up is that?” Hope bit her lip and smiled, pulling him closer. “Wanna know a secret? So do I.” He reeled back. “But I made you cry today. Just like he made my mother cry, like you cried for Joseph to stop. Hell, part of me earlier felt pride in bringing you to tears.” Hope crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around him. “Those were happy, relieved, purging tears. Not pained tears.” She kissed his jaw, tight with frustration. “What part gave you pride—that I was crying because you were stronger than me, or that I was crying and you’d helped me?” Gabe rested his head against her shoulder and said nothing for long minutes. Finally, his voice raspy, he said, “I’m not sure. I know it wasn’t about you being weak, but I don’t know beyond that.” “Is that why you left?” He grunted, hating this touchy-feely sharing yet craving her understanding. In for a penny… “I had this nightmare last night that I was my father and Master Joseph all at once. And then the tears…it was just too much. I’ve never been so twisted in knots about a woman before. I’ve always been able to keep my distance, and if they cried, it didn’t bother me because I knew they had a safe word.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “In my nightmare, I didn’t stop when you safe worded.” She leaned in to kiss him on the jaw. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Of course you would have stopped.” “You don’t know that.” Her poor Sir, to live with such guilt and fear. “Oh Gabe, I know you. You’re a good man. And you’re an even better Dom.” She straddled his lap and kissed him full on the lips. “After all, you did tame me.” “Not very well, as I recall.” She sucked his bottom lip and rubbed herself against his growing erection. “I was broken when we first started dating, and I ran because I didn’t want you to deal with my baggage. But you didn’t give up on me. And this weekend? You,” she gave him a tongue-tangling kiss, “you saved me.” He groaned and held her hips firmly against him. “Woman, you’re driving me crazy. But shouldn’t we—” She put a finger over his lips. “There’s nothing more to say. I forgive you, you’re not your father, and with you, I don’t have to fear Master Joseph.” He leaned away from her hand. “Yeah, about that last one…” Her breath caught. She so wanted things to be over and done with that bastard. She had a bright, shiny future ahead of her, and she’d be damned if he messed it up.

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Gabe pulled at his ear. “I kinda decked him on the balcony upstairs. In case you hear something about him, I don’t know, tripping and breaking his nose.” She leaned back in disbelief, only staying balanced on his lap because his arms curled around her waist. “Are you shitting me? You punched him?” His lip quirked. “Yeah, I guess I did.” Hope dived for his lips and lost herself in his kiss. She could feel the hardness beneath his jeans as it rubbed across her yoga-pants-covered pussy. Thin though they were, far too much fabric remained between them. “If you want to reward my heroism…” An evil glint entered his eyes, right before he lifted her from his lap and deposited her on the other seat of the couch. He grabbed the box from the table and opened it to withdraw a stunning necklace, all green and gold and shaped like a flowering vine. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s yours, if you’ll have me. Wear this, and we’ll be even.” He looked down at her wrist. “I’ll even skip your punishment for removing those cuffs.” His lips edged up into a smile and she beamed back. “Yes, oh yes.” She turned her back to him and lifted her hair. When the necklace clicked into place, a sense of peace drifted over her, as if this was the way things were meant to be. “You do know what this means, don’t you?” he rumbled in her ear. “What?” She turned back to him, breathless. He seized her in his arms and pulled her against his hard body. “You’re mine.” “Yes,” she said. Hope took a deep breath for bravery and finished. “But only because I love you.” His grip tightened on her arms. “You better, cara. You’re not the only one with a heart at stake here.” “Prove it,” she taunted, knowing he loved her but wanting to feel it all the same. Gabe spirited her off to the bedroom, eyes eager and hot. He settled her onto the mattress and stripped off his T-shirt. She almost lost her mind seeing his torso exposed in all its golden, ripped glory. Had it just been last night they’d done this? “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” she mumbled, still distracted by the view. He looked even better by daylight, which she hadn’t thought possible. “Hell, baby, that’s an understatement.” He unzipped his jeans and slid them off, revealing the tattoos that wrapped around his calves. She wanted to trace each one with her finger, explore every inch of him. This time was special, different. This time was for love. A nearly naked Gabe leaned over the bed and pulled the tie of her pants. Inch by inch he dragged them down her hips, bringing her thong with them. Her top followed, and his eyes warmed as a little growl escaped his throat.

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“So beautiful, naked except for my collar.” He traced her curves with his hands, shoulders to feet. “Mine,” he rasped. “You know it.” She needed to feel him inside her, stretching and claiming every inch. Her pussy throbbed in need and she moaned. “That’s my girl.” He pulled up the desk chair and sat at the edge of the bed before pulling her hips to dangle in front of his mouth. “Oh yeah. Look at that beautiful pussy. Mine,” he proclaimed, staking his territory with a gentle kiss against her clit. Which turned into one long lick of his tongue between her legs. Hope’s mind fell to pieces. Her fingers ran across the barely there hair on his scalp and loved how the sparks across her hands throbbed in time with the tingles from her core. Gabe spread her pussy lips with his thumbs and growled. “You’re so wet. Is there something you’d like to tell me?” “Take me! Please, Sir, please, I need to feel you—” Her words ended in a gasp as he did exactly as she asked. Tongue and lips and teeth grazed across her clit, sending her into a tailspin of desire. Each second edged her closer to orgasm, and oh hell did she need that. He pulled back, laughing at her desperate whine. “Lick these for me,” he said, fingers at her lips, “and I’ll let you come.” She sucked his long, strong digits into her mouth, fluttering her tongue up and down their length, wishing she had his cock instead of his fingers. Reading her thoughts, he said, “That’ll come later, baby, don’t you worry.” He took back his hand and she bemoaned its absence until his fingers found a new home caressing her G-spot. Her moans jumped an octave as fingers and mouth teamed up against her. Chills zoomed up and down her spine like sea birds diving over the water. “I’m so close, Sir, so…” He hit something good and she was a goner, flying off from reality in her orgasm. Shudders racked her body only to be replaced by warm waves, flashes of color strobing behind her eyes the whole time. As she came to, Sir was cuddled up beside her, stroking the hair off her forehead. “That was beautiful.” Blushing, she started running her fingers up and down his arms, tracing his tattoos. Some were new, some old, but all were stunning works of art. Bursts of color leaped from his tanned skin that was, in many places, simply outlined in black. “Did you design your new tattoos?” “Of course.” He pulled her closer, one arm around her waist and one tangling in her hair.

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Her hand trailed down lower, along his side, until she reached his thigh. A red bird flew from an iron cage, teardrops falling from its beak into a river that wound around his thigh to fade into the tattoos on his calf. “And this?” His breath caught and she tilted her head up to look at him. He sat up against the headboard, pulling her with him until she straddled his lap. “I got that after you left.” Guilt speared her and she threw her arms around him and held tight. “I’m so sorry. I should have opened up to you, let you help.” A raw chuckle escaped from his lips. “Like I’m a saint when it comes to sharing. We’ve both screwed up.” He took her arms from around his neck and yanked them behind her back. The pull of her muscles, the command in his eyes, had her shivering with desire again. “But right now, baby, I’d like both of us to be screwed again.” His eyes were heavy with lust. A nod—words escaped her at the moment—and he had her pinned to the bed under his deliciously heavy weight. She ran her hands across his back, feeling the delineation of every muscle. How sexy was that? Sexy enough to make her wet all over again. Or maybe that was due to him nibbling her neck. Whatever. All that mattered was that he continue to touch her. She bit his ear and said, “Sir, I want you in my mouth.” He groaned above her and for a moment she thought she’d get her way. Her mouth started watering and her tongue craved his flavor. He’d always tasted so good, a lot salty, a little sweet and all man. “Cara, I’d love nothing more, but my control right now is hanging by a thread. I need to be inside you—now.” His kiss made all her muscles go limp. Her nipples hardened and her cunt throbbed its agreement. “I’m not going to complain about that.” She grinned and through half-shuttered eyes saw him jump off the bed and fumble in the bedside drawer. He returned sheathed and ready to go. Strong hands pushed her thighs apart and he settled between them, his cock teasing her entrance. He grabbed her hands and pulled them above her head, which pressed him into her pussy a little farther. She squirmed, trying to take him deeper, and he pulled back. “Keep your hands above your head, baby, and I’ll fuck you silly. Move them, and I’ll stop.” “Yes, Sir.” Nothing existed beyond Gabe and this moment. Too slowly, he pushed against her, parting her folds and stretching her to fit snugly around his thickness. “That’s my girl, take it.” Another inch and he hit all the good nerves. His cock curved just enough that it fondled her G-spot with every stroke, not that he was stroking just yet. Right now, he was being an insufferable tease.

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Her arm twitched to grab his head and kiss him until he was crazy with lust and shoved his way into her. She needed that stretch and burn. “More please, Sir. I need you deeper, harder, faster. I want all of you.” She grabbed for the edge of the mattress, needing something to keep her from grabbing him and speeding things up. “Really, is that what you want?” His eyes were serious. He’d hurt her, once, at the beginning of their first relationship, by going too fast. She’d not been ready for his size, nor had foreplay been involved. This was completely different, and he knew it. She dignified his concern with a snort. Keeping eye contact as a blatant challenge, she said, “Try me. I’m wet and ready and begging to be—” He shoved his entire length into her, burning every inch of her pussy. It hurt, hell yeah, but it was a delicious pain. “Oh, don’t stop!” He grabbed her hips and tilted them. The new angle had pleasure-pain sparks running up and down her spine as his cock brushed her G-spot and bottomed out on every thrust. Her eyes closed to fall into the sensation and his strokes slowed. Her eyelids popped up and she glared at him. “Keep ’em open, love. I want to see your beautiful green eyes when you come.” One hand reached between them to thumb her clit and she was lost. It took so much willpower to keep her eyes pried open, but for him, she’d do it. She studied the sheen of sweat on his golden chest, the lines of pleasure on his face. Pressing up on her elbows, she got a perfect view of him fucking into her. His thumb picked up speed and the sparks turned into a full-fledged wildfire. “Sir…” “You are not allowed to come yet, Hope. Wait for permission.” Well that was new and Hope normally would have chafed at the idea but, damn, it turned her on more. She struggled against the orgasm trying to suck her under, thought about interior design and her crappy apartment and the siblings who weren’t returning her calls and it took the edge off just enough that she had a modicum of control. Until Gabe pushed her flat to the bed, threw her legs over his shoulders and took her more deeply than before. Shivers traced up and down her limbs and sweat broke out on her forehead. His cock was thick and long, and in this position it hit every single nerve she had. He even skimmed her clit with every stroke, giving a little hitch at the end to rub against her hot button. “Sir, please, please, please,” became her mantra, because thinking about anything else, such as his muscles flexing and his eyes boring into hers, would do her in.

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He nibbled the tender part of her ankle and the unexpected sensation had her teetering on the edge of orgasm. “Beg for it, Hope, and I’ll let you come.” Lines of strain grooved his face and for both their sakes, she let loose her rambling, incoherent-fromlust words. “Sir, Gabe, baby, please, I want to come for you, feel you come inside me, melt into you, God, I love you so much.” She paused to catch her breath. “Say it again,” he growled, “say you love me.” “I love you, Sir, I love you.” His hands gripped her thighs—she’d have perfect bruises tomorrow—and he gritted out, “Come for me.” She exploded, a rainbow flashing behind her eyes once more and tingles numbing every part of her body except her pussy, which was overwhelmed with sensation. Two more thrusts and he came, reigniting her nerves. Interminable minutes later, he rolled off the bed and padded into the bathroom. He returned, condomfree, head and face damp with water. “Do you need anything, baby?” “You. Come here, Sir. I’m exhausted and ready for bed.” His smile was brilliant and it touched parts of her long-dormant heart. “That sounds perfect.” He tucked in next to her and wrapped her in his arms. She fell asleep more contented and sated than she’d been in her life. She just wondered how long it could last.

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Chapter Thirteen

As they lay in bed the next morning, Hope could feel the questions boiling in her mind. What happened now? She refused to ask, not wanting to ruin the moment. Gabe still rested beside her in all his naked glory. One of his arms was tucked under her head, the other flung across her waist, possessive even in his sleep. She turned and kissed his lips, barely rousing him. With a smug smile—she’d thoroughly exhausted him last night—she wiggled out from under his arms and threw on a spa robe. Though no sounds broke the silence of her room, it seemed more alive with Gabe there. Since she’d moved back to LA, her apartment had felt so empty. She envisioned Gabe there with her, filling the space with life and love and his beautiful smile. Falling asleep with him every night and waking in his arms every morning. Bright morning light filtered through the curtains, and Hope swept them aside to reveal mounds of snow, pure and white, leading out to the cliff. And to the left, beyond the parking lot, a snow plow coming up the road. Looked like they were free. Hope tried not to be disappointed, but so long as she and Gabe were trapped up here, the pressure to define their blooming relationship remained on the horizon. She’d like to think the collar and the I-love-yous meant something special—she knew so, deep in her soul—but until they talked about the practical implications of a relationship, she would be on edge. A slight knock at the door pulled her from the landscape view. She trotted over and peeked through the peep hole. Ms. Lamont stood there, looking for all the world like a grown-up Girl Scout selling cookies door to door. Hope eased open the door. “Ms. Lamont, good morning. Can I help you?” Clad in a smart black pencil skirt and red silk blouse, she said, “Why yes, Hope, I think you can. And please call me Kat—all my friends do. You and I have much to talk about, cherie.” Holding her robe closed—naw, she didn’t feel sloppy and insecure around Kat—Hope gestured to the couch. “Would you like to sit? And can I get you something to drink?” Kat reached into the hall and rolled in a cart topped with covered plates and two icy pitchers. “No, may I get you something to drink? And I am hoping you are hungry.” She looked to the bedroom. “I know Gabriel will be.” She flashed a blinding smile and stopped the cart beside the kitchenette, setting out two

His Only Hope

plates and putting the third in the microwave. “That should keep Gabriel’s food warm for now. He can wake later, ça va? Come, take a plate and we shall sit and talk, just we women.” This became more surreal by the moment. Hope would have expected admonishments, or warnings about Gabe…something, anything but this welcoming feast. “All right. Let me just go change…” Kat waved the thought away. “No, do not be silly. You are lovely and that robe is comfortable. It is why I chose them, after all. Come sit, Hope.” She liked the way Kat said her name, her French accent almost dropping the “H” from her name. Kat had a warm, soothing cadence to her voice that put Hope at ease. Plate in hand, Hope took a seat on the soft green couch, turning to face the other woman still in the kitchen. “Water or juice?” Kat asked. “Oh, water, please.” Balancing her plate and two glasses, Kat joined her, taking the other end of the couch. “There are three things we must discuss, and at least one will be unpleasant.” Kat took a bite of her eggs and bacon, her bright red lipstick not daring to budge. Hope filled her mouth with a slice of French toast—a bite that melted on her tongue in buttery, starchy, sugary goodness—so she didn’t bombard Kat with questions. The woman would get to her point eventually, and her food would only grow cold if she waited to eat until this was over. After a few bites, Kat put down her fork and said, “I’ve been informed that Master Joseph has quite the unsavory past.” Her level gaze saw more than Hope would have liked. Methodically chewing and swallowing her food despite her now-churning stomach, she took a sip of water before answering. “That would be correct.” How much did she know? “Hope, I do not play games. Gabriel told me of your relationship with Master Joseph, and I need to know if it is true or not.” “Why?” Banning him from Maison Domine would do little good to a man whose basement was his own personal dungeon. A vicious smile curled her lips. “Because I know everyone who is anyone in the kink and fetish community. A few well-placed phone calls and he will be blacklisted from every club, store and dungeon in the area. And word like that spreads as wildfire.” Hope gaped at her, and joy sprouted in her chest. “Really?” She set her plate on the coffee table, too overwhelmed to eat. “You’d do that?” Kat gave a delicate snort. “Naturally, cherie. Keeping my guests safe is the biggest part of my job. So did Gabriel tell me true?” Holding her gaze, Hope replied. “I have the scars to prove it.”

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Kat’s sharp nod was answer enough. “Pardonez-moi.” Kat set her plate on the table, rose and pulled out her cell phone. A flurry of French erupted from her red-painted lips. The only word Hope caught was “asshole fils de pute bastard.” When she returned to her seat, her face emanated serenity. “He will not trouble us any longer. But you and I, we must still address this issue of our Gabriel.” Hope cringed. “He didn’t mean to, really, we’ve talked about it and I understand, please, do not punish him for what happened. We both mistreated each other terribly over the course of this…I guess you could call it a relationship.” If she could so easily blacklist Master Joseph, she could do the same for Gabe. Hope did not want to be the reason for his being banned from the kink community—Gabe’s livelihood relied upon his good reputation. A tinkle of laughter escaped Kat’s lips. “Oh darling, you just answered my question. Gabriel and I have already talked. He will be on probation here for three months, but I may reconsider that if you are his only partner. What I wanted to know was your intentions toward him. He is a dear friend of mine, and has been through a great deal in his life. He needs a strong submissive—a partner—to help him flourish and grow.” She picked up her plate and continued eating. Hope followed suit. She was mid-chew when Kat said, “So when will you marry him?” She almost choked on her food. “Wh-what? Oh no, marriage isn’t even something…no.” “Jaxon Greene said the same thing last year.” She cocked her head to the side. “Is that not Gabe’s collar you are wearing?” Hope fingered the beautiful necklace. “Well, yes, but this doesn’t mean we’re getting married.” That laugh again. “No, cherie, not yet.” She leaned forward and her voice softened. “Did he tell you he made that right after you left him?” Hope’s heart clenched and tears sprang to her eyes. “I-I had no idea.” “It’s true.” At the sound of Gabe’s voice, Hope craned her neck around to see him standing in the bedroom doorway. His slacks clung to his muscular thighs in an oh so tempting way, and to top it off, he was shirtless. “Good morning, Hope.” His grin told her she’d been staring. “Good morning, Sir,” she said, eyes still tracing the lines of his torso. She thought nothing of using the title anymore, not when he’d so thoroughly earned it. Kat echoed her greeting. “There is a plate for you in the microwave if you would like to join us. We were just talking about you.” A wry grin quirked his kissable mouth. Hope couldn’t turn far enough around, but she heard Gabe pop open the microwave and a moment later he took up residence on the lounge chair across from her. His eyes held a possessive heat that melted her insides.

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“So what were you ladies saying about me, hmm?” Gabe started to eat and even that was sexy. Hope couldn’t watch him without thinking of the deliciously naughty things he’d done with that mouth yesterday. And Friday. She wanted a repeat—many repeats, for as long as he’d have her. “Oh Gabriel, I told Hope that you are crazy about her. And I am always right about these things.” His deep brown eyes bored into hers. “She’s right, you know.” Every nerve ending whooshed alive and the whole world came into sharp focus. “You…you are?” “Of course he is,” Kat piped up. “I am not wrong about such things.” Gabe rose and came to sit beside her. He took her plate and put it…somewhere. She didn’t notice or care because all she knew was Gabe, the feel of his hands around hers and his dark, manly smell, the seriousness in his eyes. “Yeah. When you left, I was devastated. And I know it wasn’t the most noble thing to do, but I’m glad I convinced you to come here this weekend. Closure,” he laughed, “the only closure I want is knowing that you’re mine.” Tears filling her eyes, weak vulnerable tears she could care less about showing, she leaned in to give him a passionate kiss. She moaned at the feel of his tongue dancing along hers, eager to feel his tongue caress other parts of her body. A throat clearing broke the spell. Gabe still held her face between his palms and he had a goofy look on his face. “Love you,” he said, giving her a swift peck on the lips. With that, he rose and looked over at Kat, who Hope had forgotten was still in the room. Hope’s cheeks blazed with embarrassment, but Gabe had no such problem. “Kat, you know how to spoil a perfectly good moment,” he said. “Oh, Gabriel, I always have impeccable timing. And I will leave you two paramours alone as soon as I finish my business here.” She turned back to Hope. “So I hear you are an interior designer. What do you think of my resort?” Katrina cocked her head, expectant look on her face. Hope bit her tongue and tried to formulate a response that was flattering yet left room for improvement. The moment stretched on and her blush deepened. Then Kat laughed and patted her shoulder. “Cherie, I was just, how do you say, messing with you. Gabriel told me you are quite the insightful designer and practically demanded I hire you.” Hope shot Gabe a mortified look, to which he responded with an unrepentant shrug. “We shall need to negotiate terms, of course, but I would like to offer you the contract.” Hope wanted to squeal, but managed an enthusiastic, “I’d be honored” instead. She glanced at Gabe, who nodded at her, heart in his eyes. Kat stood and grabbed her plate, setting it on the cart as she headed to the door. “Call down to the kitchen and they will send someone to pick this up. You children have fun now!”

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A wave over her shoulder, a click of the door, and Hope was alone with Gabe. “Congratulations.” “Thank you,” she said, “for everything, Sir.” He patted his thigh. “Come sit here, love.” She obeyed, heart racing with each step she took. His lap felt as if it was made for her, his shoulder was at the perfect height to cradle her head, and his arms embraced her with ease. Home. The word floated through her mind and instead of questioning it, Hope let the idea settle over her. Damn, did it feel right. “You feel like home, Sir.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I was going to say the very same thing.” He pulled back from her and tilted her chin so she met his eyes. “We do have a few things to iron out, though.” Her eyebrows rose. “Oh? Do tell.” “For starters, I’d like to take you on a real date. Are you free this Friday?” “I have to wait until Friday?” She pretend sighed. “If I must…I suppose I can cancel that other date I had planned.” He caught both hands behind her back and clamped a hand around them. “Hope,” he said, warning in his tone, “you will not have a date with another man. Only me. And I would have suggested a date tomorrow, but I wanted to give you time apart if you needed it.” Dizzy from the sensual grip in which he held her, she barely responded. “Okay, got it. No dates.” Her eyelids fluttered shut. “And I don’t need time. I know what I want.” His lips captured hers, his fingers threading through her hair. She drifted in the sensation. When he broke the kiss, they were both breathing heavily. “Love you,” he said, settling his arms around her waist. “Love you too.” The words rolled from her lips so naturally, it felt as if she’d been saying them her whole life. She wanted to spend the rest of her years saying them. A comfortable silence fell upon the room, echoed by the glittering snow outside. She had no idea how much time had passed when Gabe said, “So, Hope, where are you living these days?” “You don’t want to know,” she groaned. “Yes I do, because I think you’re living with me.” She sat upright and stared. “You’re kidding, right?” A rakish smile lit his face. “Hell no, woman. I lost you once. This time, I’m keeping a close eye on you.” She liked the sound of that. ‘Well,” she hedged, “I guess I can get behind that. But you’re going to have to help me move. Three times in two years is just too much for me.” “Deal.” He sealed it with a soul-searing kiss.

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“What are we waiting for?” She bit her lip, having the crazy urge to run to her apartment, throw everything in her car and invade his loft. “That.” He took her lips again. “I just wanted to hear a little enthusiasm,” he said, a smug smile on his beautiful face. “Well in that case, take me home, dammit, before I get violent and you have to punish me. Then who knows when we’d ever leave here.”

Packing and driving back to Los Angeles was a blur. They had to travel separately, but Gabe’s motorcycle stood in his driveway when she arrived at his new artist loft. The sun hung low in the Sunday sky and the smell of rain filled the air. She loved LA winters, barely cold at night and mild during the day, with the occasional rainstorm to sweep aside the smog. She shut her car door and walked into the open garage. Machines and leather and metal covered every conceivable surface and, despite being crowded, it seemed well-organized, though her fingers itched to rearrange things. Leave it to Gabe to be king of controlled chaos. “Hello?” Arms wrapped around her from behind. She would have been alarmed, except she’d smelled his cologne a moment before he’d touched her. “Mmm, hey, baby. Welcome home.” He nibbled the crook of her neck and she swept a hand back to cup his head. “A girl could get used to this kind of greeting.” “That’s the idea.” He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the door leading inside. She gasped. “You really shouldn’t carry me across—” “Well, I just did. Looks like you’re stuck with me.” His eyes sparkled with unparalleled love. Settling her on her feet, Gabe entwined his fingers with hers. She looked up at him, chest and throat choked on her love for him. “I love you, Gabriel Cassidy. Thank you for bringing me home.” He kissed her hand. “Always, baby. Always.”

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About the Author

Skylar Kade, self-avowed hedonist and princess extraordinaire, started her writing career after throwing aside yet another romance she could not bring herself to finish. The run-on sentences! The purple prose! Oh, the horror of it was just too much. So she sat down to write her own tale. Her favorite part about writing is the extensive research. She currently resides in sunny southern California, alternately cursing the polluted air and adoring the often-perfect weather. Skylar spends her time asking the cabana boys to bring her more mimosas and feed her strawberries while she dreams up her next naughty adventure. Catch Skylar at her website (www.skylarkade.com), the Nine Naughty Novelists blog (www.ninenaughtynovelists.blogspot.com), or Twitter (@skylarkade).

Look for these titles by Skylar Kade

Now Available: The Maison Chronicles Maison Domine His Only Hope

Taking bonding and exothermic reactions outside the laboratory…

Maison Domine © 2009 Skylar Kade Organic chemist Lara Brunner is at loose ends. Since childhood, her life has been focused on work and achieving success in her field. Only now, weeks away from her tenure review, she realizes she’s pushed herself too far. Casting about for a way to release her stress-crazed body from career tension, she visits a BDSM retreat, hoping a weekend of sexual submission will do the trick. Inducting her into the lifestyle is her at-work nemesis—Jaxon Greene. But the sinful intent she encounters in Jaxon’s sexy eyes makes her heart race with desire…and fear. Gorgeous men like him don’t go for zaftig academics like her. Once the fantasy weekend is over and real life returns, he’ll forget all about her. Jaxon is blindsided by his intense attraction to Lara. The more time he spends with her, the stronger their invisible bonds become. Bonds that are stronger and more permanent than any knot he can tie. He’s not normally into converting vanilla women to his lifestyle, but something makes him want to cast his inhibitions aside and claim her for his own. First, though, he has to free her from preconceived notions of proper sex…and love. Warning: This story contains bondage and whips and sexy professors—oh my!

Enjoy the following excerpt for Maison Domine: As soon as Jaxon Greene’s hand settled around her neck, Lara was pulled under his wicked spell. It had to be magic. It was the only way she would be shamelessly flirting, and in public nonetheless. She was surrounded by people, and he wasn’t even caressing her, but she was wet. Soaking, actually. What was happening to her? She never let her dates manhandle her, never gave them such control over her body. “You…jerk! Let me go.” Lara felt the need to put up a token resistance. Who was he to stalk in and claim her like a caveman? She was a renowned scientist, dammit! And more importantly, why the hell was he interested in her? Lara may have accepted her body, but she was a realist. Jax ran in Hollywood circles, and she would never be that type of woman. Jaxon let his fingers slide from her neck. Callused fingertips brushed across her collarbone and down to her hand. She looked down, surprised to find their fingers intertwined. “I can’t let you go.” Preoccupied by the delicious texture of his large, warm hand, she didn’t respond right away. And when she did, Lara could tell her voice was…distracted. “Can’t? Or won’t?” “Can’t, Lara. I’m shocked to see you here. Although, I’m not too surprised. Had I known you were into the lifestyle, I would have asked you out much sooner.” He lifted their locked hands to his mouth. Warm, damp lips brushed over her knuckles. The caress was brief, but she felt the aftershocks zing through

her body and settle in her clit. It throbbed in time to her heartbeat, which had started racing as soon as she saw Jax walk into the room. “Why?” she squeaked, wincing at the undignified sound. Chemistry professors of her caliber were not supposed to be unnerved. She was becoming a disgrace to the profession. He chuckled, and the vibrations tightened her nipples to the point of pain. She needed to escape, to go back to her room, and bury herself in grading and experiment research until she forgot the feel of him. Or come over and over until this desire went away. The latter was definitely more appealing. She had visions of Jax looming over her, his hard cock filling her. Or of his mouth, his tongue, teasing her to the brink over and over, before filling her perfectly with his long fingers to send her careening into an explosive orgasm. Lara came back from her wet daydream to see Jax smirking at her. The rat bastard. He knew she’d been thinking about them having sex. How dare he not offer to help her out of her misery, to take her over and over until she blacked out from the pleasure, instead of just offering to train her? As Sam had told her before she left, orgasms were not part of the so-called training sessions unless offered by the Dominant.Maison Domine www.samhainpublishing.com 19 Damn, she was not the kind of woman to swoon for a man the second he looked her way! He brought her hand to his mouth again, this time scraping his teeth lightly across the pad of her palm. Shivers zipped across every nerve ending in her body again. She let out a little whimper before she could bite off the sound. “Because you are different from the others,” he said in between little nips and licks to her skin. “There is something seductive about seeing a woman submit for the first time. Especially one as controlling as you are. I can see it in your eyes, in the lines of your body. You don’t know how to revel in your sexuality, and you’re afraid of embracing it, for fear of losing yourself beneath the intense feelings you would be opened to.” He, the famous Jaxon Greene, PhD, wanted her. The mousy little nerd. It was a sign of the Apocalypse, for sure. She opened her mouth to protest his assessment of her, true though it might be, but his mouth covered hers, shutting her up. Oh, the taste of him! It was like sweet mint and sin, simultaneously cool and blistering hot. His tongue reached out to lick across her bottom lip, silently begging entrance. Who was she to deny him, especially when he was making her knees oh-so-weak? She forgot she was not that kind of girl. Her fingers tangled into the lapels of his jacket, bringing the intoxicating scent of leather closer to her. Lara’s head swirled and her knees buckled under her. But Jax was there with an arm around her waist, holding her up. The other twisted into her hair, pulling on her scalp with little pinpricks of pain. It only served to turn her on more.

Lara distantly heard a throat clear. The second “ahem” was a little louder, a little more forceful. With great difficulty, she pulled her lips away from Jaxon’s and looked over his shoulder. Kat stood there, hands on her slim hips, and a smug smile on her delicate face. “I’ll take the tonsil hockey to mean you’ll work with her, Jax?” She looked like she was barely suppressing her laughter. He groaned, rolling his forehead across Lara’s in a gesture of part frustration, part tenderness. He looked into her eyes and smiled wryly. “I lost track of where we are.” She smiled back. “I did too.” The spell he wove around her was broken and she could feel the blush creeping up her neck. She was in a room full of strangers, and she was practically climbing all over the most gorgeous man she had ever met like she was one of his model/actress floozies—a man she had to see on a regular basis when she returned to the real world on Monday. Awkwardness descended between them like an avalanche. The skin around his eyes tightened, letting her know he could feel it too. “Oh, no, you don’t, Dr. Brunner. I’ve got you where I want you, and I’m not letting your embarrassment get in the way. We should go make nice and socialize, but I don’t want to give you the opportunity to close up again. Instead, you are going to begin your first lesson with me.”Skylar Kade 20 www.samhainpublishing.com She opened her mouth to protest, and he silenced her again with a short, albeit sweet, kiss. “Obedience, Lara. We will sit and discuss specifics in a little while, but for now, trust me. Trust I’ll be here to catch you when you let go.” Dammit, those words again. Let go. First dream-Jaxon, then Samantha, now real-Jaxon. Lara guessed the universe was trying to send her a message. She looked into his eyes, feeling the sparks between them coalesce into something stronger, an invisible thread tying her to him. It scared her even as it made her heart race in anticipation. “Okay.” She flashed him a tentative smile. Although she didn’t know Jaxon well, she trusted him. And not only because both Samantha and Kat vouched for him. Besides, she didn’t want to make a scene. They had attracted enough attention as it was. She was stuck there for the weekend, so she may as well make the most of the opportunity. Treat it as an experiment. The geeky part of her wanted to take notes and measurements of their time together in order to quantify how different a Dominant could be from an average guy. And since Jax had decided he wanted to train her, she guessed sitting back and watching or hiding in her room with a book was out of the question. The idea of participating, of physically experiencing some of what the BDSM lifestyle had to offer, excited her. Way more than she thought it would. Maybe there was something to Sam’s belief that Maison Domine would shake up her life. She could feel the beginning

tendrils of change unfurling in her already. Dr. Lara Brunner, giving up control of her life—who’d have seen that one coming? Jax reached for her. His hand opened, waiting patiently for her own. For her silent acceptance of his offer to train her for the weekend. Having decided to throw her staid professorial persona to the wayside for the weekend, she took his hand. The question was, would two days be enough to sate her craving for submission, or would she be unable to return to her staid existence?

She has the right to her pleasure…any way he wants to inflict it.

Miranda’s Rights © 2011 KyAnn Waters Jase Ralston gets hot under his very blue collar just thinking about his friend and neighbor, Miranda Carlucci. Yet she can’t possibly be interested—not when she could have champagne, caviar and her pick of Vegas high rollers. The bruises change everything. She denies she’s in an abusive relationship, but his cop instincts won’t let him rest until he finds out the truth. When he follows her to a BDSM club and finds her writhing under a flogger’s stinging kiss, his Dom instincts kick in. Jase takes command of the scene—and Miranda—at Club Creed. This is what she’s always wanted. Pleasure, pain…and rough-around-the-edges Jase. Yet after his domination transports her to a level of subspace she’s never known, he leaves her—unwilling to continue the scene. Confusion gives way to hurt…then anger. He’s claimed her and Miranda wants more. Even if it means confronting Jase and making demands of her own. Warning: This submissive woman has the right to be silent. Anything she says could result in being tied up, flogged, and spanked. Law enforcement has never been hotter.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Miranda’s Rights: Was this what Miranda yearned for? There was a ribbon of fear coiled around his heart that Miranda would want more than he could give her. She had bruises, hid this part of her life from him, much the same way he hadn’t divulged his desire for control. But he could never hurt her, not without pleasure, not to the point of mutilation. With renewed determination, he turned away from the erotic performance and walked with purpose down the corridor. The place was too large, had too many rooms. The closed doors were a problem. If he was going to find Miranda, he needed in these rooms. He approached the next door cautiously, wrapped his fingers around the knob, and turned. The door opened and he peered inside. Empty. He released a breath and leaned against the wall. “Where are you?” he whispered. Miranda was somewhere in the club, and Jase hated to think of someone else pleasuring her, of restraining her, of controlling her release. In the time they’d known each other, he hadn’t an inkling she was into BDSM, fetish or anything remotely kinky. Hell, she was from small-town Nebraska. Had he known, would the knowledge have made a difference? Hell yes. He wouldn’t have hidden his predilection for domination. Unless he was wrong, and the intuition that made him a good cop said he wasn’t, not this time. Miranda required that he demand her submission.

The crack and snap of a whip sounded from behind the closed door across the hall. He hesitantly approached and listened. His own heartbeat thundered in his ears and his ragged breath heightened his awareness. Muffled voices sounded from the room. A male and a female. He couldn’t discern what was said but the woman’s voice had a familiar tone. Cop instinct kicked in: assess the conditions, move with caution and control the situation. Jase turned the knob, opened the door and stepped into the room. Chills broke along his flesh. A flogger snapped, the leather tassels delivering a stinging blow to pale skin. The master pivoted, the flogger poised to strike again. “This is a private room.” Jase vaguely heard the words. He couldn’t focus on anything but Miranda. She knelt naked on the floor, chest rounded over the top of her trim thighs and her forehead resting on her knees. Her blonde hair softly fell around her narrow shoulders and shielded her face from his view. Behind her back, braided rope restrained her arms. The rope wrapped her forearms, bound her wrists together and tied her wrists to her ankles. Her ankles were tucked tightly under her bare rounded buttocks. “Do you have a problem?” The man tightened his grip and took a step toward Jase. “Yeah.” With his first word, Miranda visibly trembled. “Were you with her two nights ago?” “How is that any of your fucking business?” He tapped the flogger against his thigh. The tassels swished and Miranda whimpered. Red marks crisscrossed her bared back where the man had thrashed her with the flogger. Jase slowly dragged his gaze from Miranda. “Oh, I assure you, she’s my business.” He grabbed his badge from his waistband and flashed his detective shield to the bare-chested man. The guy cocked an eyebrow. “I guess that makes her your problem.” “I asked you a question,” Jase repeated. “Wasn’t me.” “Then get out.” “Whatever.” He tossed the flogger to a small bench. “Don’t be gentle. She likes it rough.” He crossed to a small closet and grabbed his shirt. He pulled it over his head and strode to the door. His voice softened as he spoke to Miranda. “Sorry, love, but I don’t need trouble.” His gaze met Jase’s. “In case you want to know, I haven’t fucked her. Sex wasn’t part of the contract.” He slipped out the door. Jase squatted down on his haunches to see her face in the restrained submissive pose. “Are you okay?” She didn’t speak. “Miranda, answer me.” “I’m fine.”

Jase sighed and clasped his hands together between his widespread thighs. “I don’t know what to say to you. I’m full of questions, yet I don’t really need you to answer. Finding you here tells me everything I should know, doesn’t it?” Her heavy breaths seeped into his psyche. Heated flesh released the scent of her perfume. Beneath the subtle fragrance was the musky hint of her arousal. Still, she didn’t speak. “When I ask you a question, I expect a response.” She nodded. “A verbal response,” he said a little more sternly. “This is what you want?” “Yes,” she whispered. “I worried about you. You should have told me.” “Jase—” “The reasons no longer matter.” He stood and stripped off his shirt. Her head snapped up. “What are you doing?” “You aren’t in any position to question.” His palms sweat. Would she ask him to go? She wanted a rough bout of sex, to be told what to do and when to do it. Hell, part of his job was enforcing the law. The time and opportunity had come for her to acquiesce to his rules. “Jase, are you sure you understand?” He paused. Oh yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing. “If you want me to leave, say so now.” He glanced around the room. The flogger waited on the table. Tempting, but not tonight, not after the man who just left had flogged her. He let his eyes rest on her again. The ropes were sexy. Those would stay. “I know what I want and I know what you need.”