I don’t…
She tried to get up. His arms caged her.
He rubbed his chin on the top of her head, enjoying the light feminine scent. He’d discovered the lingering fragrance in the crease of her hip and in the hollow of her neck. Her lotion matched her shampoo. Her clothing today was coordinated, and yesterday her toenails had been the same blue as her hair. She liked pushing against rules, but in her own life, she liked…consistency? Order?
So maybe her need to rebel wasn’t to reject rules entirely, but just those imposed by another.
Her reaction to his control—the way she trembled now—worried him. So new to domination. She shouldn’t be a trainee. What the hell are you doing, Z? Her fetish club visits had probably given her a few thrills. A sub’s first time under command, no matter how lightweight, could be a revelation for her. But she had no experience with surrendering not only her body but her emotions as well.
Is that why she kept defying everyone? She wanted to submit, yet it frightened her? No. Maybe. He frowned. Sometimes she appeared uncomfortable with her own behavior, as if she didn’t want to disobey. Other times her sassiness seemed true to her personality.
And right about the time he wanted to write her off, she’d respond so sweetly she’d rouse every dominant instinct in him.
He tightened his arms around her for both control and comfort and simply held her. Because that’s what she needed now—and so did he. The memory of spanking her didn’t sit well with him.
A man didn’t hurt a woman, not where he came from. In BDSM, he’d learned many submissives loved being given pain to heighten their pleasure. It had taken him longer to understand that pain dispensed for punishment could often fill a submissive’s emotional needs.
Other aspects of BDSM had proven easier to accept. Domination. Bondage… He definitely enjoyed bondage, watching a little sub squirm, then give him…everything.
How long before Gabrielle reached that point?
Probably a while. She was quite the piece of work.
At the sound of soft footsteps, he looked up to see Celine mosey past the sitting area. Although he’d dated the lovely blonde a few times and occasionally topped her here, he hadn’t called her in a month or so. Not since he’d realized his income and his status in the club interested her more than his personality.
She glanced over, pretended surprise at seeing him, and came to kneel at his feet. “Can I get you a drink, Master?”
Dammit, her use of master grated on him. The title, used without his name, implied he was her master, a relationship encompassing far more than a few scenes.
Gabrielle stirred. She stared at Celine, then squirmed, trying to rise.
“Stop, Gabrielle,” Marcus said. He frowned at Celine and jerked his head in a way that left no chance for her to misunderstand. An experienced sub, she knew better than to interrupt obvious aftercare.
Pouting, she rose and moved away.
Gabrielle had stilled, but her uncomfortable expression said the quiet moment had passed. And it was indeed time for him to return to check on the other trainees. He ignored his reluctance to let her go and set her on her feet. Her balance stayed good. Her eyes were clear and alert, although her tear-streaked mascara tugged at his heart.
But she was back to normal. He had no excuse to sit and hold her longer, no matter how much he’d enjoyed it. How content he’d been.
She started to adjust her skirt from where he’d tucked it under the waistband.
“Leave it as it is, Gabrielle. People should get a chance to admire my handiwork.” When she glared, he smothered his laugh. Definitely back to normal. “Follow one step behind me and speak only when addressed. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Chapter Six
As Gabi followed Marcus around the room like a pet, she tried to summon up her bratty sub, but it felt as if he had an invisible leash hooked deep within her. And each time he gave her an order, instead of getting angry, she melted inside.
He wandered through the room, checking on his other trainees, stopping to chat with members in his quiet drawl. He liked people, she could see, and got along well with everyone. A charmer, always knowing the right words to use. Like her father.
“Stay here for a second, sugar,” he said.
She scrubbed her hands over her face, trying to figure out where her spine had gone. In a puddle on the floor wasn’t an answer she wanted to hear.
Marcus stepped away to speak to the blonde who’d offered to get him a drink.
Obediently Gabi waited. Come. Stay. Nice dog. She amused herself with lifting her lip in a snarl and silently growling at the blonde who’d moved close enough to rub her breasts over Marcus’s arm.
When he returned, he touched Gabi’s cheek. “Thank you for your patience, sugar. Now I need to find Sally and—”
“Marcus.”
The deep, rich voice made her spin. Master Z. Oh, hell. Heat rushed into her face as the owner’s gaze ran over her. He didn’t react to her skirt tucked in her waistband, baring her pussy. Why did her exposure feel more embarrassing with someone who knew who she really was?
Speaking of who she was, she needed to pull herself together. No matter how many warm fuzzies she got when Master Marcus complimented her, she mustn’t follow his orders.
“Z, how are you tonight, sir?” Master Marcus said, his slow drawl making his voice even smoother than Master Z’s.
“I’m fine. How is your new submissive?”
“After a few bumps in the road, I believe she’s learning.” Master Marcus’s tone chilled. “I fear she has less experience than you implied.”
“Indeed.” Master Z frowned. “May I speak with her?”
Marcus hesitated and then nodded.
Master Z stepped closer, tipped her chin up, and studied her face. “It sounds as if you’re having a rough time, little one,” he said for her ears only. “Are you all right?”
His sympathy made her eyes burn, and she took a second to steady her voice. “Yes, Sir. I’m fine.” Involuntarily she glanced at Master Marcus and saw his brows had drawn together.
A short blonde standing slightly behind Master Z had the same displeased expression.
Jessica Randall stared at Z in shock. He acted so concerned and had touched that new sub so protectively. I’ve never seen him do that before. Not like that. A knot in her chest hurt as if she’d swallowed something—like jealousy—that kept growing.
“If you’re sure,” Z said to the redhead. He squeezed her shoulder and stepped back.
The arm he put around Jessica didn’t warm her as it usually did. “Jessica, this is Gabrielle, our new trainee.”
A trainee? Not a new sub of Marcus’s? Surprised, Jessica turned to Marcus and hesitated a second. She didn’t really know him that well. Nonetheless… “You brought in a new trainee? She’s not even a member.”
“Master Z is doing someone a favor,” Marcus said, his drawl more clipped than usual.
Jessica pulled away from Z and scowled at him. “But Rainie is at the top of the list. She’s supposed to get the next trainee position.”
“This isn’t your concern, Jessica,” Z said, his voice dangerously low.
“That isn’t fair.” Jessica set her hands on her hips. Rainie had whooped and screamed in delight over the chance to be a trainee. “Why is Rainie getting passed over for someone who never—”
“Silence.” The snap in his voice not only shut Jessica up but everyone else in the immediate area.
She took a step back, knowing she’d gone too far. And with Z that was never a good thing.
He pulled a leather gag from his pocket. “You’ve exceeded my patience, Jessica.”
A gag? She glared at him and shook her head. He’d had it in his pocket—like he’d planned to gag her all along.
His eyes turned from gray to almost black, and her resolve crumbled into mush. When he crooked his finger—come—she obeyed.
* * *
After work on Monday, Jessica drove down the tiny country road toward the Shadowlands. The spatters of rain against the windshield matched her mood perfectly—the mood she’d suffered since Saturday night. How dare he have gagged her? He knew how much she hated that, dammit. She moved her jaw side to side, feeling as if the stupid thing still filled her mouth. She should have punched him.
Instead she’d melted. Like always. The touch of his sure hands firmly tying the gag, the overpowering way he looked at her, the unyielding grip on her shoulder as he kept her right beside him—she’d probably never get enough of that, even if they lived to a hundred.
If we’re still together. The disheartening thought pulled her down like quicksand. Sinking. Inescapable.
After slowing her car, she drove through the iron gates and up the palm-lined driveway. Under the rain, the flowers turned their bright blooms toward the ground, muting the landscape.
Z rarely gagged her, so why had he last Saturday? Because of that woman, Gabrielle? Her eyes narrowed. A new trainee brought in without any warning seemed strange. He and the trainers—first Cullen and now Marcus—usually discussed potential trainees to the point of nausea, wanting just the right person. Aside from Andrea, they’d always chosen them from longtime members.