Cherise Sinclair - Dark Citadel

Silently, he walked her back to where the DMs had herded the beginners into a group. Master Raoul appeared to check if anyone had questions and remind them the second beginners' class was Wednesday.

As the others dispersed, Kari turned to Master Dan. “Thank you for the…um, lesson.” How awkward this was. She wanted to touch him, but he looked so cold.

He nodded, his face unreadable, his eyes without warmth. It was as if he'd pulled himself behind some impenetrable wall. “I'm glad you came, Kari. I hope you enjoy the next couple of lessons. Be careful with your next choice of Dom.” He nodded to her and walked toward the exit.

Staring after him, she rubbed her hands over her arms, feeling a distinct chill. What had she done wrong? She had smarted off earlier, but he'd obtained his revenge for that.

She'd kissed him. Was that against the rules? Shoot, whatever she'd done, he obviously wasn't going to have anything to do with her in the future. But he could have been a little nicer about it.

She tried to work up a good anger instead of feeling lost. What a jerk, walking off like that. “Fine then,” she muttered to his back. “You have a nice life too.” Turning, she almost ran into Sally.

The trainee had obviously overheard everything. Her gaze was full of sympathy.

“So what was that all about? Did I do something wrong?” Kari asked.

“No, girlfriend. That's just Master Dan; only he's not usually that abrupt.” Sally stared after him, her brows together. “But it's not you. He never uses a sub more than one night.”

“Oh.” The unhappy lump in Kari's stomach grew bigger. So she was just another submissive to him. Here she'd thought there was more than that between them. God, she could be stupid about men. “Got it. Thanks, Sally.”

“No problem. We subs stick together.”

“Miss Kari?”

Kari turned to see the security guard. Oh, great, had she done something else wrong? “That's me.”

“I'm Ben. Master Dan asked me to walk you to your car.”

“I don't need an escort,” she said, then hesitated. Buck lingered near the room exit. “Then again, I'd love the company. Thank you.”

As they walked past Buck, he gave her a sheepish smile. “Kari, I wanted to apologize. I was nervous and took it out on you.” He glanced at the guard. “I don't want to keep you from leaving. How about I call you later this week and we'll talk? I hope you can forgive me.”

What could she say? After the way Master Dan had brushed her off like a nasty bug that had gotten into his soup, Buck's eagerness to be with her was comforting. She moved her shoulders and gave him a weak smile. “There's really nothing to forgive. We'll talk later this week.”

“Great.” He nodded at Ben and strode away, his step with a bounce in it.

Well, at least one person thought she was nice. A shame Master Dan didn't feel the same.

* * *

Dan stalked into his apartment, stripping off his leathers on the way to the bedroom. He threw them into the corner. What a crappy evening.

In the kitchen, he grabbed a beer and sucked half of it down before dropping into his chair in the living room. The cold brew helped, but he was still pissed, and he thumped his head against the back of the chair. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway?

Like he didn't know. He saw her again, like he'd been seeing her every few minutes on the drive home: Kari soft and round in his arms, her eyes glazed with passion, her lips swollen from his mouth. He hardened further, if that could be possible. Hell, he'd been hard all night.

He should have grabbed Sally or one of the other trainees and obtained some relief before leaving. So why the hell hadn't he? Because Kari would have felt betrayed? He wasn't married to her, involved with her; why should her feelings matter?

And there… That was the problem, the reason he felt like shit right now. The little sub had gotten to him. She didn't look like Marion, and her personality was very different, but she sure as hell brought out his possessive nature. She's mine, her body is mine, that laugh is mine. That swollen mouth is mine, and I made it look like that.

But she wasn't Marion. No one could be.

He opened his eyes, his gaze falling to the photograph sitting on an end table. Marion on a spanking bench, leaning so far forward her lovely breasts spilled out of the black corset. Laughter filled her face as she dared him to take her.

She was dead. All that life, that passion gone.

His fault, dammit. After being called back to the station that night, he'd canceled the evening they'd planned. She'd yelled at him and then gone out to party without him. It had been raining…

Too much alcohol, too fast, too wet.

The highway patrol had called him at the station that night. He hadn't believed them. Fuck, he hadn't accepted her death for a good year after.

If he'd stayed home, she wouldn't have died. He knew that. Even though his grief had finally eased, the guilt had become part of him. Sometimes he felt as if he'd already joined her, become just another cold, gray body in the morgue.

He studied the photo. She'd loved him, truly loved him; he'd always known that. But she would have moved on by now.

He couldn't. And so, no matter how that little sub made him feel, he wouldn't see her again.

Tipping his head back, he finished the beer. Considering how rude he'd been when he left her, she'd undoubtedly gotten the message that she was on her own. Why didn't that make him feel better?

* * *

Dressed in her robe and pajamas, Kari picked up the cup of herbal tea and took it out to her small backyard patio. The wide swing rocked gently as she curled up and leaned her head back on the cushions. What a very strange night.

The phone had been ringing as she walked in the door. Buck, calling to check that she got home safely. He'd apologized again before hanging up. She frowned. Sometime in the next day or so, she'd have to decide if she wanted to see him again. Her first few dates with him had been fun, so maybe she was being oversensitive about his behavior at the club. He'd probably been nervous, and some people became hypercritical when stressed.

Then again, he hadn't been stressed last week. She giggled, remembering how he'd instructed her on the proper way to fold hand towels. Talk about nitpicky. Perhaps this would be a good time to call it quits.

She took a sip of tea. The chamomile scent drifted up from the cup and mingled with the fragrance of her roses. Her tiny tiered fountain gurgled pleasantly, the water glinting in the moonlight. A breeze rustled through the bushes and flowers, lifting the muggy heat.

As she rocked the swing, the soft pajamas chafed her breasts, her nipples so tender the thin cotton fabric felt like sandpaper. Her thoughts drifted back to the club. How could she ever process all her impressions?

That BDSM stuff had put her into a constant state of arousal, and everything Master Dan had done only increased it. From holding her arms down and kissing her, to the helplessness of having her hands cuffed together, to being pinned in the chair with his fingers—his fingers—inside her. That memory made her entire private area ache and dampen.

He'd called that area her pussy. Since starting to teach high school, she'd heard the oddly descriptive term a time or two, but it certainly never appeared in any biology textbook

She set the swing to rocking again. Although his fingers, his mouth—heck, everything he'd done had been stimulating—the huge difference had come from feeling helpless, from having no control.

She'd never been so excited in her life. Had never had an orgasm like that…ever. And God, she wanted to do it all over again.

But she wouldn't have Master Dan with her next time. The thought made her stomach twist, so she sipped more tea. He had been…overwhelming. She couldn't get him out of her mind, how his face had looked when he'd touched her. The way he'd watched her so intently. How he'd pushed her, controlled her.

Jessica said there were other experienced Doms. Would she feel the same with one of them? Would they have the same deep laugh, firm hands…? She sighed, remembering the hard, clean line of his jaw, the corded muscles in his neck. Would they have those?

No, probably not. But she'd discovered something about herself tonight. The way her body reacted to domination was what she'd been looking for all her life. Master Dan's control had filled a need inside her. Scary as the thought of returning to the club alone might be, she wasn't going to stop now.

The warm tropical breeze lifted Kari's hair as she hurried up to the Shadowlands on Wednesday evening. She scowled at the setting sun. She was late. The stupid car had overheated, forcing her to drive slower. She really needed to get it to the repair shop.

She'd always hated being tardy, but it was far, far worse tonight. Her stomach churned, like she'd eaten worms for lunch instead of her usual tuna sandwich. And she probably should have eaten supper instead of changing clothes fifteen times; she still had not found anything appropriate.

What if everyone was here already? This was just so not like her, going someplace alone. At least Buck had accompanied her on Monday, even if that hadn't lasted long. She grinned briefly.

Her smile faded as she remembered who had taken his place. And how unhappily the evening had ended.

But if she didn't attend this class, she'd feel like a coward, like Master Dan had driven her away. She wiped her damp hands on her dress and raised her chin. To heck with Sir anyway; she'd darned well have fun with someone else.