To Command And Collar

shoulder, he kissed her cheek. She saw the stern set of his jaw. His dark, dark brown eyes looked into hers. “Do you trust me, carino?”

The question melted whatever resistance remained after his demonstration of how easily he could control her body. “I do,” she whispered.

He waited.

“I do, Master.” He’d showed he owned her body; now he wanted her soul as well-and he had it. God help her, he did.

His knuckles grazed down her face, over her lips. “You please me very much, gatita,” he said softly.

Oh, she wanted to, so very badly.

He moved away to lower the lighting in the room until it was like dusk after a sunset. Then he leaned on the desk, close enough she could feel his body brush against hers. “Breathe, Kimberly, and listen to the music. I picked this for you.”

As his calloused hand stroked up and down her back, her muscles relaxed, flattening into the pad. Her breathing kept pace with the rhythm of the song, the slow sweep of his hand.

She felt something different-a cool streak and a flashing warmth almost simultaneously, and his hand slid over the same spot. Again, and again, and she realized there was no pain, just a touch of cool, then heat following and disappearing under the rough stroke of his hand. A circle around her bottom. Down her legs and up to her back. His rhythm was the lapping of water on the beach, not quite regular, but so natural. Warmth, stroke.

Her eyes were open, and she watched the shadows dance on the wall with the flash of flame, then die down to darkness again. She could hear, dimly, the sound of people outside the room, their voices like seagulls in the distance.

The heat intensified, nipping at her skin, yet her worry slid away as her body and her mind grew too heavy to stay focused.

His low baritone broke into her calm. “You’re being such a good girl, mi pequena sumisa. Time to turn over.”

How did he make his voice tug at her like a strong current? His firm hands rolled her over, and cool air washed over her front. He arranged her arms at her sides and pulled her hair over the end of the desk again.

“Do you want to watch the flame, gatita?” he asked in that soft, smooth voice. “I love your accent,” she said, unsure if she was dreaming.

How strange a thing to say, but his eyes crinkled, and he simply repeated, “Do you want to watch?”

“Sure.” Her back didn’t hurt, not at all, except for her bottom where… “You spanked me,” she told him.

“I did.” He lifted her shoulders high enough to push a wedge pillow under the pad. “And I enjoyed it very much. You have a very spankable ass, no?”

Her giggle sounded odd. She felt like a bubble rising up out of the ocean, heading for the surface.

He turned, a little skewer with the white gauze burning like a minitorch. He ran it down her thigh, the streak of flame almost gone before the stroke of his hand erased it completely.

“Oooh, that’s so pretty.”

The flash of his smile was just as pretty. Then the rhythm came back, the blip of coolness, the flash of the flame, his big hand wiping it out so the touch of fire stayed only warm…or sometimes with little teeth.

He changed out the skewer thing for another, giving her a slow kiss between, making her happy that her mouth was available. He worked his way across her stomach, upward toward her breasts.

She knew she should worry, only her fear never quite surfaced before her breast lit with the dancing flame and, like magic, was gone. Her skin tingled, her nipple contracting as if unsure if it was supposed to get aroused. He held the torch away and stopped to lick that peak.

Then he closed his lips over her other nipple in a reversal of the order-hot mouth, cool air. The flame.

Around the outer sides of her breasts. Down the center. Flames danced across her body…

He smiled at her, his eyes holding the heat of the fire, and she realized the flickering was gone from the room and only his hands were left, his hands on her breasts, his mouth over her clit, and her arousal coming up and breaking over her like storm waves over a rocky shore.

Chapter Ten

He’d never had a submissive climax so sweetly or trust him so completely. Raoul hadn’t shaken off the exquisite ache of tenderness…until he turned and saw the window.

He’d been so far into topspace during the scene that he hadn’t noticed when the Overseer had arrived, but the cabron stood there now. Raoul nodded at him.

Dahmer tilted his head toward the clubroom, then strolled away. Displeased he’d had to share anything with the bastard, Raoul frowned. Time to finish talking and get Dahmer out of the Shadowlands, which meant subjecting Kimberly to his presence again.

Of course, without Dahmer, he and Kimberly wouldn’t be here at all. Or together. She was worth it.

He smiled to see she hadn’t roused, was still tranced out. He ran his fingers over her skin, feeling only a dry heat like a sunburn, but no blisters. Good. After using the damp blanket to wipe down her skin, he applied aloe lotion and tucked a fuzzy blanket around her. As he put the room to rights, he stopped every minute to stroke her gently as she slowly returned to the real world.

A tap on the door attracted his attention. The little cleaning woman waited in the doorway. She pointed to herself, then the room, indicating she’d take over the cleanup. Z had probably sent her.

Raoul nodded, wanting to have Kimberly in his arms. He wrapped her in the subbie blanket, picked her up, then glanced at her folded clothing.

Peggy whispered, “I’ll leave them and your bag at the bar for you, Master Raoul.”

“Thank you.”

Kimberly’s eyes opened, still a little glazed. She smiled at the woman, echoing his words, “Thank you.”

Peggy beamed.

“Ah, you are coming back to me now, gatita?” Raoul kissed the top of her head.

She rubbed her cheek on his chest like a sleepy cat. “I like when you hold me.”

Dios, she was going to break his heart. “I like when I hold you too.”

He walked out the hallway and into the main clubroom, wincing as the music of Alice in Chains hammered into his head. Club members who’d watched the fireplay gave him a thumbsup. A few started to talk, realized Kimberly’s still sleepy state, and changed it to a quiet, “Great scene.”

He nodded and smiled. Near the bar, he spotted Dahmer and Sam at a table, watching a suspension scene. Back to reality. But they looked engrossed enough that he could take time for Kimberly to rouse further. He caught Sam’s eye, then chose a quieter area, knowing they’d join him when the scene wound down.

A pretty submissive appeared and set a beer and bottled water on the table. She murmured, “From my mistress.”

Raoul saw that Olivia had taken over the bar. She gave him a small salute and returned to mixing drinks.

Kim felt…wonderful, everything open and loose and melty.

“Gatita.” A deep, resonant voice sounded as strong as the arms around her. She blinked and smiled up into dark chocolate eyes. Her heart swelled, filling with warmth, an infinitely stretchable balloon. Her arm didn’t want to move, but the need to touch surged inside her, demanding action. She put her palm on his cheek and felt how it creased when he smiled.

“Are you with me here?”

Always. She opened her mouth to tell him how much she loved him, but a movement from the corner of her eyes silenced her. People. She stiffened, a shard of ice jabbing through her relaxed muscles.

“No, look at me, Kimberly,” Master R murmured, pulling her gaze to him. “You were wonderful, sumisita, and I am very pleased with you.”

Warmth flowed back into her, a returning tide. God she loved him so much. “But we’re not alone. We’re still in the Shadowlands, and the other two men will join us shortly. You must stay very quiet.” He nuzzled her cheek. “I