Siren Unleashed

Chapter Three

Chase yawned, glancing around the dungeon. Maybe he should have stayed in Dallas until Ben got back, but he’d been brutally excited at the prospect of a mystery that didn’t involve who stole his Xbox controller. He’d been restless for months. This was the first thing that had made his blood pulse and hum, and he’d been impatient.

So now he was here in Nowheresville, Texas, on a Friday night without even Logan to run interference for him. Kitten, apparently, needed to pack. He’d rerouted Ben’s plane so Ben could pick up Logan and Kitten and drive them in from Dallas. He’d considered it a thoughtful thing to do. Ben had cussed him out. It didn’t matter because Chase had wanted to get a look at that body. If he’d waited, something bad could have happened like cremation or burial. He didn’t dig up corpses. Well, not often, and ashes would defeat the purpose of examining the body.

And now that he’d seen his corpse, he was right back to restless.

It looked fairly open and shut. Dude had been locked in. Dude had some sex. Dude got a crazy overdose of heroin shoved into his back. Natalie was the last one to see him alive. There was no way the victim could have gotten the needle in his own back. Logic stated that the simplest answer was usually the truth.

Natalie Buchanan was going to jail.

And he would be the bad guy. He leaned against the wall, staring out over the floor. He was going to investigate. He was going to talk to everyone who had reasonable access to the spa. Tomorrow morning was soon enough to start collecting alibis. Logic told him that Natalie had the only key to that room. A small vial of pure China White had been found in one of the drawers in the room Natalie used exclusively.

When it looked like a duck and quacked like a duck, the duck had usually killed someone.

And still…

He owed it to Julian to try. And if the asshole deserved it, maybe he could cover for the girl. Who he had yet to meet. He had a time penciled in to talk to the mysterious Natalie Buchanan in the morning.

“Chase Dawson?” A pretty woman with light brown hair approached.

Sub. But not all the time. Oh, the woman in front of him probably liked to submit in the bedroom, but she was a functioning member of whatever team she was on. He glanced at her from head to toe, taking in every inch, evaluating her in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with curiosity.

She was approaching forty, married, likely for a while now. She’d had breast implants. That didn’t fit because she also had laugh lines and the beginnings of a deep crease between her pretty eyes. She worried. She wasn’t vain, and she’d had a couple of kids. Toddlers most likely. There was a bright little stain on the edge of her professional-looking shirt. Paint. Likely water soluble. Someone liked crafts. The boobs bugged him. She had the faintest curve to her belly. Why would a woman get her boobs done, but not liposuction?

“Did you have cancer?”

She stopped short, a startled look crossing her face. “Breast cancer. Many years ago.”

That explained it. “Bilateral mastectomy?”

“Julian told me you were different. May I ask why you’re asking deeply inappropriate questions?”

“Sorry.” Yeah, that sounded like he meant it. “I was trying to figure you out. The boobs don’t fit.”

She frowned. “And what have you figured out?”

“That you are likely Gabrielle Reed.” She wasn’t wearing a name tag, but he would bet a lot that this was the resort manager Julian and Dani had hired. “And before you accuse me of cheating, my brother ran your background check. Background checks bore me. You have at least one, probably two kids, one in a preschool setting who enjoys painting and showing off his…no, her creations. You have a baby, too. Not walking yet. Your husband is a Dom. Your employees adore you. You don’t like me.”

“You can tell a lot just by looking at me.”

“I know about the kids because of the stain on your shirt. You got the start of a shit-eating grin when I said boy, thereby telling me your oldest child is a girl. Your shirt is slightly wrinkled on the left side. That’s where you carry the baby. If your husband isn’t a Dom, I’ll eat my shoe. I can tell your employees adore you because they’re all staring daggers at me right now.”

“And you can tell I don’t like you, how?”

That was the easiest explanation of all. “No one likes me. It’s a safe bet.”

A little smile curled her lips. “You lose, Dawson. I actually quite like a head case, as you’ll come to see. And the cancer question?”

“You’re not a particularly vain woman. You’re allowing yourself to age naturally. You’re quite lovely and soft. The breasts are out of place. They’re nice by the way. Quite well done.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Uhm, I think I should say thanks. Is your brother around?”

Naturally. Everyone would rather deal with Ben. Ben didn’t comment on a stranger’s breasts. “He’ll be here late tonight. I told the front desk to expect him after midnight.”

She sighed and crossed her arms over that well-done chest of hers. “Julian said you’re both very well trained.”

There was only one thing she could be talking about. “Are you in need of a scene partner?”

Was he wrong about the husband?

She flushed slightly. “No, I’m not, but I have a friend who is. I wouldn’t ask, but it’s kind of important. Uhm, you’re strictly working for Julian on this case, right?”

“I rarely work for outside clients. Occasionally I’ll take a case if it interests me.”

“Let’s say you found something against Natalie in this case.”

Ah. Now he understood. “I would feel absolutely no obligation to law enforcement. I would submit my findings to Julian, but no one else. I took a look at the guy. He was dirty. I don’t have proof, but my instincts aren’t usually wrong about assholes. Even dead he gave off a vibe. So, if I find out Ms. Buchanan killed him and had good reasons, I likely would bury the evidence so deep no one could convict her.”

She took a long breath. “Good. Look, Nat didn’t kill him. She told me what happened and I believe her. But she’s found this whole episode a bit unsettling. She needs some help.”

Revelation dawned. “And she’s a sub.”

She needed to scene. She needed to relax.

Gaby nodded. “My husband is with her. We both agree that it might be easier on her if she scenes with someone who doesn’t work here. Do you know her background?”

Quite well. “She hasn’t taken a Dom since the incident?”

The incident had been months of hell. He knew damn well he was understating it.

“No. This is the first time she’s wanted to try.”

“And she doesn’t want to try with someone she knows.” He could understand that. If it all went to hell, she didn’t want to look at her coworker every day.

“I don’t trust the visiting Doms. I don’t know them except by reputation,” Gaby replied. “Julian trusts you and your brother. She needs this. Can you help her and still work the case? I would honestly tell her to wait for someone who won’t be involved, but I’m afraid she’ll back out. This is a huge step for her.”

She was being brave. He could respect that. He looked across the dungeon. “Is that her? With the pink hair?”

He would bet on it. She was the only woman in the dungeon with a chip on her shoulder that he could probably see from space. She stood talking to a dark-haired man, her shoulders somewhere around her ears. He could feel her anxiety from here. Pink hair. Like cotton candy.

Yeah, that wasn’t boring.

“Yes. That’s Nat. She doesn’t want to know your name, by the way. She just looked over and said you would do. I would be standing here telling you to get lost if Julian hadn’t said you were okay.”

Because Nat meant something to her. And she hadn’t come looking for him. “But you wanted Ben.”

She shrugged. “Julian thought Ben would be gentler.”

Chase felt a little like growling, but it would just reinforce the idea that Ben was the nice one. Fuck. Ben was the nice one, but sweetness over there needed a little tart to go with her sugar. “Sometimes gentle isn’t the way to go. I’ll take care of her. Your husband can watch. We’ll keep it public. Sex?”

Gaby shrugged. “Up to her, but I wouldn’t bet on it. Don’t get me wrong. I would cheer if she took a lover.”

Because little Natalie hadn’t had a lover since her abuse. She turned, her eyes telling him everything. She was so damn scared. She was dressed modestly for the dungeon in a short skirt and a tank top. No shoes. Subs had the choice. Stilettos or nothing. She liked comfort, but those legs would look longer in a pair of nasty fuck-me heels. Louboutins. He would buy her a pair. Black, sleek, modest, but he would see the red soles when he spread her legs wide and propped her ankles on his shoulders so he could drive his cock deep.

Those red soles would be for him and Ben.

“You’ll do, Mr. Dawson.” Gaby Reed had an odd look of approval on her face.

Chase had the feeling that he’d given something away. “Why?”

“Because I know that look. You’re interested. I also know something you don’t yet.”

“And what is that?”

“That once you get a taste of her, you won’t be able to stop. You’ll protect her.”

Which just proved she didn’t know a thing. “I doubt it. I’m going to be brutally honest with you. I’m not the one who keeps a woman. Ben is the better choice if you want a permanent Dom for her. I just like to spank a pretty sub, fuck her senseless, and send her on her way.”

“Only because you haven’t met the right one. I’ve figured out a few things about you, too. You don’t like to be bored. You like a challenge. My Nat will challenge you forever if you’re smart enough to really see her.” She took a long breath. “So will you help us?”

He really did love a challenge. Natalie stood out. Her bristly outward demeanor couldn’t cover her vulnerability. Not from him. She needed. She ached for it.

So did he.

“I’ll do it.” Chase pushed off the wall and started toward her, his blood already thrumming through his veins.

Nat had to take one righteous breath as the ungodly gorgeous man started walking toward her. She’d kind of picked him because she was sure he’d take one look at her and run. She wasn’t in his league. She didn’t have great boobs like a lot of the women here. Hers were kind of small, and her ass was really round no matter how much she dieted. She was well aware that her riot of pink hair was something a sixteen-year-old would sport, not someone rapidly approaching thirty, and she wasn’t wearing anywhere close to enough makeup. Her heart started pounding because this was stupid. She shouldn’t be here.

“Calm down right this second, Nat.” Cal’s deep tone was hard edged and struck a chord. He never used that voice with her. He was always careful and calm and quiet, and she found it deeply easy to ignore him. She couldn’t ignore him now.

“This is a terrible idea.” What the hell had she been thinking? The Dom who was prowling toward her—there was no other word for it—why couldn’t the dude just walk, but no, he kind of strode with the grace of a panther stalking his meal—was so far out of her league it was ridiculous. He was at least six foot four with dark hair shot through with a golden color that made him look like all her Ken doll fantasies come to life. He was just as perfect as that legendary doll but with a G.I. Joe masculinity that actually made her pussy clench. What the fuck was up with that?

She wasn’t going there. Nope. She wasn’t sure why Mr. Gorgeous was walking toward her, but she was going to be the one who got away. And hid. And peeked out of her hiding place because oh, holy moly and all kinds of religious imagery, that was a chest to die for.

“Nat.” Cal bit her name, and when she looked up at him, he had an unholy look on his face that just for a minute made her want to sink to her knees.

She looked around. It was like little splashes of color were coming back when her world had been black and white forever. “Sorry.”

She didn’t want to let go of that hint of color. Yes, she was scared and, yes, she’d made a dumb mistake targeting Mr. Perfect, but she could start over. She remembered how to manipulate a Dom. It was all there. Her mom had been the master. It was all in the eyes, she would say. Make them big and round and soft and then match your words, sweetie.

She hadn’t thought about that for years now. Her mom had sat her down before she’d gone to her first club and given her a whole list of ways to manipulate big bad Doms.

She looked up at Cal, allowing her lower lip to quiver just the tiniest bit. “I think this is a bad idea, Sir.”

His eyes narrowed. “God, I always knew you would be a righteous brat if you just let it out. Use that pout on Dawson here and see where it gets you.” He softened slightly. “You have a safe word, Nat. Do you want to use it now?”

And Callum Reed seemed to have taken the Dom’s course on manipulating bratastic subs. She knew exactly what he was doing, and her back still came up to meet the challenge.

“They’ve been coddling you too long, Natalie. This is what you respond to. This is what you need.” Cal put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “You’re still in control, probably much more so than if you’d been left alone tonight.”

Because if she’d been alone, her fear, her issues would have been in control. She would have done it. She would have cut herself. She wouldn’t have been able to resist. She would have been right back in that frying pan.

“Hello, Cotton Candy.”

She looked up. And up. And up. Gosh, he was big. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. “Hello.”

He didn’t smile at all. His face was hard and perfect, with high cheekbones and perfectly sculpted lips. His eyes were blue, but there was a bit of coldness there. “You can call me Sir.”

She nodded.

“Your boss tells me you require discipline.”

He was a hard-ass Dom. Just the edge to his voice made her want to back away. There was no emotion there, no connection. When she’d looked across the room, she’d felt a spark at the sight of him, a tiny connection that she could stoke into something warm. But he was an illusion, a beautiful version of the Doms she’d known before. Cold. Hard. Unyielding.

Nat shook her head, revelation overtaking her. She didn’t require discipline. She required connection, even if only for a night.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I made a mistake.” She turned to Cal. “I’ll do whatever you feel is best to get through the night. If you want to find me a babysitter, I’ll do it.”

Cal’s whole face turned down, his mouth frowning, eyes steady but sad. “All right, Natalie.”

Gorgeous Dom didn’t change at all. The same blank expression stayed on his face. He simply stood and waited.

“I’ll go tell Gaby. I’ll hand over the dungeon to Kevin for the night.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “It’s going to be okay. Dawson, we’ll see you tomorrow.” Cal nodded her way and then went off to find his wife.

And she was left alone with the most gloriously beautiful, coldest man she’d ever stared up at. Not the coldest. Hawk took that prize, but only because she knew what he looked like when he held a knife to a woman’s throat and started to slice into her with all the emotion of a man slicing a piece of cheese.

“Hey, are you all right? You just went pale.”

Because she was thinking about it again. Because standing in the dungeon brought back her worst memories. Tears pricked at her eyes.

“Hey, Cotton Candy. Don’t cry. I won’t touch you. I promise.” The first crack appeared in that perfect face. “I won’t let anyone else touch you, either.”

The last bit was said with a little growl that did hot things to her girl parts. Frustration welled. She wanted and she couldn’t seem to let herself have.

His face was a careful blank as he turned and leaned against the wall. “I’ll just stay here until they come back for you. Unless you don’t want me to stand next to you.”

He didn’t look at her, his arctic eyes on the dungeon. He stared at a skinny Domme enthusiastically whipping her big male sub. The male howled, a shockingly high sound coming out of that masculine mouth.

And the Dom smiled, his lips curling up and showing the promise of dimples.

She stepped in front of him, that weird connection she’d felt flaring back to life. “Smile for me.”

A single eyebrow arched over his frosty eyes.

Once a Dom… She softened her request. “Please, Sir.”

“You’re afraid of me.” It wasn’t a question. It was a flat statement of fact.

She knew Cal and Gaby well enough that there was no way this guy didn’t know a bit of her history. Dawson. She wondered if that was his first name or his last name. She’d told Gaby she wanted to know as little as possible about this guy, but now she wondered. And she remembered the first rule of any D/s play. Honesty. “I was abused by a man who never smiled.”

His eyes warmed, but his lips didn’t move. “Then say something smart and bratty because you can’t expect me to smile after hearing that. I’ll be honest, Cotton Candy, I’m not a big smiler. My brother is the one who smiles.”

“Why don’t you smile?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just how I was born. So where’s the dragon tattoo?”

Now she was the one smiling. Smart-mouthed bastard. Yeah, that was kind of sexy. “Hey, I was fucked up before it was cool. This is my fourth hair color this year. I was bright yellow two months ago, but someone called me Big Bird.”

His hand came up, just barely touching her hair. “I like Cotton Candy better.”

“Yeah, don’t expect sweet.”

There it was, that hint of a smile that made her want more. “I think you could be very sweet if someone handled you the right way.”

“What if I don’t want to be handled?” The question came out on a flirty huff. God, was that really her voice? Was she really flirting with this Dom like she could handle him?

The smile deepened, bringing out ridiculously sexy dimples. “Oh, you want to be handled, sweets.”

She kind of did. But she was still a little afraid. “I don’t think I could stand to be tied down.”

“How about a male hand on your body? Could you handle that? No ropes. No cuffs. But I would have to put hands on you, and not in that ‘I’m your dad’ way the other guy did.”

Honesty. Lots of honesty. “I don’t know how I would handle it. I know I didn’t like the thought of you servicing me. When you walked up, it felt like I was hiring you or something. I didn’t like that.”

He very softly brought the pad of his index finger to brush her nose. “Picky sub.”

“I know what it feels like to be used. I don’t want to use you.”

“We all use people. It comes down to how we use them and whether or not they’re okay with being used. How are you going to get what you need if you don’t use someone?”

“It feels wrong.”

“Are you being honest with me about what you want? Is this a plot to trick me into marrying you?”

She rolled her eyes. “No.”

“Then we’re good, sub. You want to play a little in a safe environment with someone who’ll give you some space. I’m cool with that.”

“What do you get out of it?”

“Ah, you’re a clean slate girl. Well, sweetness, what I get out of it is the sight of what I think is going to be a spectacular ass. And when I turn in later, I’ll have something to masturbate to.”

She felt her eyes flare. Well, there was honesty for her. “I somehow think you could find someone for the night.”

He grimaced. “It would be harder than you think. Not a lot of women appreciate my sparkling personality. And besides, I think I’m going to be faithful for the night. I doubt you’ll let me have you, so I’ll pretend.”

The idea of him lying in bed, his hand on his cock while he thought about her, made her breath catch. And still she had to push. “Why me?”

He was silent for a moment as though deciding just how honest he should be. “Because you’re vibrant and different and you’ve muted your glow, but I think you could light up this room if you let go. So I would be using you a little, too. I don’t do many good things. I’m basically selfish. Maybe I want to feel good about myself for once.”

She wasn’t giving him credit. She was judging him the way she expected to be judged, on the outside without a single thought to what was happening inside. She’d looked at his gorgeous body and expected him to not have a soul, much less one as screwed over as hers.

“We could try. You could try to touch me.” She could handle that surely.

“Why don’t you touch me instead?”

He was wearing black leathers, pants and a vest over his bare chest. The leathers rode low on sculpted hips. How long had it been since she touched a man for her pleasure? He stood there, his hands at his sides, but she hesitated.

“He screwed you up, sweetness. What you had with him wasn’t D/s, it was assault. D/s is always consensual. If it isn’t, then it’s a crime being perpetrated on someone. What’s a Dom to your mind? Just give me the first three words you think of. Don’t hesitate.”

“Fuckwad, asshole, my dad.” God, she was so fucked up. It was all a horrible jumble in her brain. “I love my dad. That sounded weird. My dad and mom are lifestylers. They’re a happy D/s couple. I used to think it was horrible because other moms baked cookies and mine made chainmail corsets, but she’s the sweetest woman in the world and my dad is so great.” And she hadn’t been home in forever because it hurt to watch them.

“You need some retraining,” he murmured. “A Dom gives. Touch me. I won’t bite unless you ask me to. But really, my bite is quite nice. Be brave. Touch me. If you want to enjoy the lifestyle again, you have to take the step to trust someone. You’re not trusting me in this case. You don’t know me. But Julian Lodge does. And your bosses are watching right now. Trust them.”

Her eyes slid to where Cal and Gaby stood like nervous parents waiting for their toddler to walk but afraid to help.

Nothing could happen to her here. She was safe in the dungeon. Cal and Gaby watched. Gretchen sat nearby with one of the Doms, a very nice man named Tate. There were three dungeon monitors who checked everyone coming in and going out.

She let her fingers skim the warm flesh of his chest. He might look like he was sculpted from marble, but that skin was soft and hot. She watched as his muscles rippled under her palm. Arousal hummed through her. She wouldn’t do anything about it, but it felt good to know her parts still worked. She leaned in just a little and let his scent wash over her. Masculine and spicy, with just the slightest hint of his own arousal.

Power. This was what she’d missed all these long and lonely years. She’d missed the power of submission, to lose herself in the moment, to watch the big bad Dom’s muscles quiver because he was trying to maintain control.

She placed a palm flat on his chest. His heart beat right under her hand, an intimate rhythm she hadn’t felt in forever.

His eyes stayed on her. They weren’t arctic any longer. They mellowed to a sky blue and held her own. She knew what he was doing. He was taking in every aspect of her, watching for signs of arousal or fear or pain. Measuring her breathing and the way her hands trembled.

“Will you play with me, Sir?”

“Yes. I would love to play with you, sweetness.” He reached up slowly, giving her every chance to move away, but she’d decided she was safe for the moment. She let his fingers trace the curve of her jaw. “I can take care of you.”

It seemed almost a revelation, as though he was surprised he’d made the statement, but his jaw firmed, obviously waiting for her to deny him.

He needed her, too. She had no idea why this man was so scarred, but she felt it.

“Will you spank me? I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. I don’t want to get onstage or have a big scene. Just stop right here and spank me.”

His hand moved from her jaw to her throat, just barely touching her, so soft it was almost like he wasn’t there, just a whisper, a promise of things to come. “I’ll want your skirt up. I want to touch you. Not your pussy. I don’t have the right yet, but I want to caress your ass before I start.”

Her skin felt like it was on fire, but in a good way. And she had a confession to make. “I’m wearing underwear.”

He growled, a low, sexy sound. “Not if I’m going to spank you, you’re not. Give them up.”

Doms. They never took into account a girl’s tender sensibilities because in their world there wasn’t a place for embarrassment. It got in the way of more important things like pleasure and joy and self-acceptance.

If she’d really thought she would actually do this tonight, she would have worn nicer underwear, but no, she was completely out of practice and was wearing cotton panties with Scottish terriers on them. Sir stared at her, his blue eyes watching every move she made. His face was blank, but the coldness in him had evaporated, replaced with something that felt like anticipation and affection.

He liked her.

It made it much easier to push her skirt up and awkwardly step out of her undies. “Sorry.” She handed the slightly faded pair to him.

“You are never wearing these again. I might only play with you once, but this is my edict. No more underwear with dogs on them.”

He looked so horrified. He would be fun to tease, to pull out of his obviously dark spaces and force him to laugh from time to time. “You should see the ones with flamingos.”

He reached for a chair, shoving her sad little Scottie dogs into the pocket of his leathers. Even seated he was intimidating. He patted his lap. “Green, yellow, or red. Where are you right now?”

Ah, the stoplight system of safe words. “I’m green on the cusp of yellow.”

She wasn’t as panicked as she thought she would be, but then all she had to do was look around to see no one was going to let her get hurt. And Sir moved her. He was odd, sexy, slightly lost.

He was like her.

“We don’t start until you’re green, sweetness. I’m not going to scare you away.”

“Because you feel sorry for me?” She wasn’t going to be offended. After everything that had happened to her, she often felt sorry for herself, but she wanted to know where she stood with him.

“Because I really want to feel your ass.”

How could she possibly turn down such a charming man? She found herself smiling, freaking smiling. If he had been charming, she wouldn’t have trusted it, but this Sir didn’t hide behind a mask. “I’m green.”

“I bet you are. I bet you’re green as grass.”

She frowned. “You know I’m not. If you’re looking for innocence, you need another girl.”

“You’re innocent, sweetness. Don’t think because bad shit happened to you that you lost your innocence. It’s still there, but what I hope you learned is that you should surround yourself with people who will protect it, cherish it, not who gain pleasure from trying to wrest it from you. Your innocence has nothing to do with your hymen or how many times you’ve had a dick in your mouth. Innocence has more to do with who you are as a person. Answer me one question, Natalie, and I’ll tell you if you’re innocent or not. If you could go back in time, spare yourself every moment of the pain he caused you, erase it all, but leave the other two there with him, would you do it?”

Leave Gretchen and Kitten? “No. I would do it the same way. He was going to kill Gretchen. He would have done the same to Kitten eventually.”

His hand brushed hers. “Innocent. No one can take that from you, Natalie. Now let me help you. Let me show you that you can have this piece of your life back.”

She draped herself across his lap. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done this willingly. His muscles were rock hard under her belly, and it wasn’t just his thigh.

“Ignore that. Where are we?”

“Green. We’re green, Sir.” Better than green actually. She was tense, but in that happy way because any minute his hand was going to smack her ass.

She felt him push her skirt up, the cool air hitting her skin. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her hands beginning to shake just a bit. What was she doing? Why the hell was she doing it?

His hand cupped her ass. “You’re beautiful.”

She couldn’t see him. Couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t see what he was going to do.

She heard the smack before she felt it. The hot, hard slap landed on her ass sending a harsh shock through her system. Pain. Tears flashed across her pupils, and just for a second, she wasn’t over this man’s lap but tied down and forced to take whatever Hawk dished out, praying for it to stop, one way or another.

“Natalie?”

“Do it again.” She wasn’t there. Hawk was dead. He couldn’t hurt her anymore, but she could damn straight hurt herself. She wanted to scream red and run and hide in her room, but she knew what would happen. She would find a way to cut herself because she couldn’t cry.

No hesitation. He smacked her ass again, twice and then three times, that huge hand covering whole sections of her skin in fiery pain. He didn’t hold back. This wasn’t erotic or sexy. It hurt like fuck.

She gritted her teeth, enduring. Each time he slapped her, his hand soothed, fingers tracing her skin as though she was fragile and he was trying to make sure he didn’t leave a mark. But she wanted the mark. She wanted to feel it tomorrow and remember that she’d gotten through it, that she’d taken it.

“Where are we, sweetness?”

“More, Sir.”

“Natalie,” he started, the hesitation in his voice causing her to grasp his ankles.

“Please. I hate fucking begging.”

The slap to her ass was worse than all the others combined. “I’m not making you fucking beg but I will also not hurt you in a permanent fashion.” Smack. “If you want a real sadist, you need to find another sucker, sweetness.” Smack. Smack. Smack. “I am not some asshole who kidnaps women because I can’t keep my dick up without some sadistic shit.” Smack.

Her skin was so sensitive even the smallest slap made her bite back a cry.

This was what she’d missed. Not just the spanking. Not just the magnificent, horrible, amazing heat that flushed through her.

Connection. She was connected to Sir, emotion flowing between them in a way she wasn’t sure she could handle, but she knew she couldn’t say the words that stopped it.

Tears dripped from her eyes. It wasn’t a deluge, but it was enough. A nice floaty sensation started as the tears fell. She needed to scream, but this was enough. Years had passed with nothing but tension. Even when she’d hurt herself, she couldn’t cry, but they squeezed out now. No sobbing, but some relief flowed as Sir smacked her over and over again.

She relaxed, her muscles giving up the fight. Tears fell, silent but there.

He stopped, his hands lifting her, shifting her so she slumped in his arms.

“Cry for me, sweetness. You need it.”

She needed to get away from him. She had zero interest in getting cuddles from the big bad Dom. But he felt so good. His arms encircled her, his hand pressing her close, tucking her head under his chin as she sniffled.

“Hey, sweetie.” Gaby’s voice broke through the relative quiet. “You did great. Come on. We can go and sit and talk. I’m really happy for you.”

“Be happy somewhere else. She’s mine. Until she gets off my lap, she’s mine and I don’t want to share right now.” His arms tightened around her.

Such a bossy Sir. And warm. She was tired and weak and the day had been past shitty. She sighed and relaxed against him.

It was a while before she got off his lap.