Cherise Sinclair - Dark Citadel

“Tell me,” he said quietly, cupping her face. He kissed her temple, ruffling the tiny hairs with his breath. He snuggled her closer, his body warm where she was starting to feel cold. “Kari?”

“This isn't me,” she whispered. “I'm not like this.”

“Like what, sweetie?”

“I'm a teacher. I'm educated and smart. People don't boss me around.”

“Ah, that. Being smart, educated, even having authority at work has nothing to do with what you like to do in private or in bed, sweetheart.” He stroked her cheek, tucked her hair out of her sweat-streaked face. Wiped the tears running down her cheeks. She was crying?

“In your case, I figure you have three reasons that vanilla sex doesn't work for you. First, you really are submissive, for whatever reason. Some think it's just part of a person's personality, like being an introvert or extrovert. Others say it's upbringing. Doesn't really matter. You are what you are; you need what you need.”

His words hit her almost like a sentence of doom: You're submissive. There's no escape. Live with it.

“Second, you, little nun, have guilt added into the mix. Your father's lectures, your religion disapproving of anything carnal—all inside you.” He put his big hand between her breasts. “Right there.”

She put her hand on top of his, could almost feel the big lump of judgments, criticism, scorn right under her ribs.

“And third, since you're an intelligent woman, your body wants to enjoy sex, but your brain never stops working and worrying.” He rubbed her shoulder, stroked down her arm to take her hand. His fingers rubbed her knuckles. “Is that true, Kari?”

So true it was frightening. She could never stop thinking about what she should do, what he could do better, how hot the room was, what music was playing…

His dark brown eyes studied her face. When she sighed, he nodded. “It's hard for an educated woman to turn her head off. That's part of the joy of being a submissive. None of the decisions are yours. When you can't refuse anything and can't even move, those voices in your head go silent. All you can do, and all you are permitted to do, is feel. And you felt everything, didn't you?”

She nodded, but he didn't need her answer. He'd known every little twitch she gave. She rubbed her cheek on his chest gratefully. Understanding why she'd reacted so strongly helped a little. A little.

She listened to the slow beat of his heart. Surrounded by his arms, his scent, her body relaxed into him. Something about his strength, his understanding, his concentrated focus on her and her needs, was almost too overwhelming. Refusing to think further, she burrowed closer and let herself float away.

Sometime later, a chime sounded. Master Dan shook her gently. “It's midnight, Cinderella, and the dance is over.”

“What?” She blinked at him.

He helped her to her feet. Her legs shook. She looked up at him, feeling lost. His eyes softened, and he hugged her, kissing her deeply. Gently.

“I wish we had more time,” he murmured. “But the DMs will be around soon to drag slowpokes out.” He kissed her again, this time with his hand curled around the nape of her neck, holding her in place. “I'm going to go find your clothes. I'll be right back.”

By the time she'd used the bathroom to freshen up, he had returned. After she dressed, he escorted her down the stairs.

“Hey, Dan!” Standing by the front door, a familiar-looking woman in a black bustier and leggings waved them over. Kari recognized the DM from Monday.

“Olivia,” Master Dan said.

“Nice to see you using the private rooms again.” Olivia gave Kari a disconcertingly slow and appreciative look before she turned back to Dan. “If you're interested, I'm throwing a dungeon party Sunday afternoon. Bring your pretty sub and come play.”

“Ah—” Sir started.

“Don't say no. It's been far too long since you partied with us,” the DM said. “We miss you.”

Kari looked up. Surprise and what looked like guilt flickered in Master Dan's eyes. His muscular arm went rigid, then dropped away from her waist.

“I can't make it. Sorry.” His voice sounded as if the life had drained out of it.

“Oh, honey, I'm sorry too.” Olivia patted Sir's arm gently and moved away.

“Let's go,” Master Dan said to Kari.

As she stepped out into the night, the humid air blanketed her, the scent of tropical flowers and swamp almost overpowering. The loss of Sir's touch created an ache inside her as he silently walked beside her to the tree-lined parking lot. Others were leaving also, faceless figures in the shadows and moonlight. Cars moved down the drive in a slow string of lights.

Taking her keys, he unlocked her car and opened the door. She looked up, hoping for a kiss, a hug…something…but his gaze was as remote as the distant moon.

“Thank you for the evening, Kari.” His fingertips brushed her cheek, featherlight.

Her lips tightened. No more sweetheart from him. The ache increased, and she tightened her lips against a betraying quiver. He had only promised an evening. The evening was over, and she never caused scenes. All those etiquette lessons from the nuns hadn't gone to waste. She slid into the car, then forced a smile and a cool tone, “Thank you for the lesson, Master Dan. I do appreciate the time you've spent with me.”

His eyes were distant, but sadness lingered in the lines of his face. “Drive carefully.” He put her keys into her hand and closed the door softly.

Dan's chest ached like he'd cracked all his ribs. He rubbed his sternum as he walked back to the Shadowlands. Why Olivia's invitation had hit him so hard, he didn't know; after all, he'd been fending off well-meaning friends for three years now.

Fending off subs too. He remembered Kari's expression a minute ago, how her big eyes had filled with confusion, then hurt. His mouth tightened, and the frozen feeling inside him increased. Being with her a second time had been a mistake. For both of them. It wouldn't happen again.

Not bothering to knock, Dan walked into Z's office. “Got a minute?”

Z set down the paper he'd been reading. “Daniel. Did you have a good evening?”

“Fine.” Dan raised his hand to run it through his hair, stopped halfway, and lowered his arm. Subs weren't the only people who Z could read like a grade-school primer. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up. I won't be able to make the dinner on Friday or be here on Saturday.”

“Is there a problem?”

“No.” The terse answer with no explanation was rude, but he had no damned explanation. Just that he needed to not be here for a while.

Z studied him for a minute before asking, “Was little Kari a disappointment to you?”

Damned mind-reading psychologist could be like a cat with a cornered mouse. “She'll make someone a wonderful sub, I'm sure. I'm not in the market for one, though, and you fucking well know it.” He winced at the raw sound of his own voice.

“I hear you,” Z said mildly. “Well, then. I'll tell Jessica about Friday. We'll miss you on Saturday, Daniel.”

“Right.” Mouth set tight, Daniel headed out, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him.

Outside, he scowled up at the moon, remembering how Kari's pale skin had glowed in its light. He shook his head. Real fucking romantic. He pulled his keys out, headed for his truck. No traffic, he'd be home soon enough.

Home. He sighed, rubbed his face. The thought of his cold, empty apartment made his guts twist. Fine then. He'd hit the station instead, put in some time on his unsolved cases stack.

Early Thursday morning, Kari wandered through her quiet neighborhood, a basket of warm muffins over her arm. Around five in the morning, she'd finally given up on any sleep and put the time to good use.

Tail waving in the air, her German shepherd, Prince, trotted in front of her, guarding her from evil field mice, stray cats, and other dogs. Especially the aggressive poodle that lived three houses down. A cool breeze brushed against her skin and sent droplets from last night's rain pattering off the leaves onto the pavement.

After getting home last night, she'd sat out on the patio, trying to come to terms with Master Dan's behavior. She'd felt so close to him, and he'd acted like he'd felt the same, and then he'd just shut down. But he'd warned her, after all, said he didn't have anything to give. She shook her head. He'd given her more than any man before, but apparently she wasn't enough for him, not compared to his dead wife.

Kari stopped, closed her eyes at the despondency the thought created. But she couldn't see a way to fight a dead wife's memory. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath of the clean air. Life was what it was; she'd just have to move on and cherish the wonderful things she'd learned from him.

She walked up to the Jernigans' porch and left the basket of blueberry muffins on the table beside the mail slot, knowing Mr. Jernigan would find it when he went to get the newspaper. His elderly wife had been discharged from the hospital yesterday, and everyone knew Mr. Jernigan could burn canned soup.

Back on the sidewalk, Kari trailed after Prince, who knew the route as well as she did. Her sneakers slapped against the pavement, reminding her of the sound of flesh against flesh…of Master Dan plunging into her. Lordy. She shook her head, trying to forget that image before she got all heated up again. Impossible task. Too many parts of her ached: her pussy; her swollen mouth; her breasts, almost too sensitive to tolerate her softest bra; her wrists, sore despite the lined cuffs he'd used. She had scrapes on her legs from the straps and a bite mark on her stomach.