Cherise Sinclair - If only

His eyes narrowed. He was a newly titled Shadowlands “Master” and slightly younger than the rest, but he sure had the same instincts. To her relief, he didn’t push. “I’m across the room with friends. You call me if you feel worse, and I’ll take you home.”

“I will. Honestly, I really am fine.” She would be. Maybe. “But thank you.”

As Jake walked away, she sighed. Galen and Vance had been like that—all concerned about her. Not all Doms were. With Frank, she’d thought his dominant behavior meant he’d be as protective and caring as the Shadowlands Masters. Boy had she been wrong.

Just as well she’d sworn off wanting a Dom of her own. Much safer to stick to lightweight scenes at the club.

Safer. The word sent her gaze to the laptop, to someone whose world would never be safe. With a keystroke, she brought up the reports about the fire. Even as a quiver of fear ran through her, she straightened her shoulders. You just look out—I’m on your trail, you bastards.

“Hey, Ben.” Along with Vance, Galen walked into the entry of the Shadowlands. “How’s it going?”

The oversize security guard lifted his chin in greeting. “Going good. You two are running late.”

“You suppose there are any interesting submissives left in there?” Vance asked.

“For you two? You bet.” Ben grinned. “Hey, you ever hear Nolan grumble about how much work is it to say ‘Shadowlands submissives’?”

“Christ, Nolan bitches about any sentence over two words long,” Galen said.

“Yeah, well, Cullen started calling the submissives ‘Shadowkittens.’ Says even Nolan can spit that out.”

“Shadowkittens?” Galen exchanged an amused glance with Vance. The term certainly fit one little sassy sub.

“I like it,” Vance said.

“Let’s see if we can catch one, eh?” Galen lifted a hand to Ben and opened the door. His ears were assaulted by dungeon music and the enticing sound of impact toys hitting flesh. The room held the distinctive sex and pain scents of a BDSM club with the added fragrance of leather. Z had a preference for expensive equipment. The ambiance of the Shadowlands washed over Galen, pushing him into a different zone. No longer an FBI agent, but a Dom.

Near the front of the room, he spotted Nolan. His submissive—and wife—stood quietly in front of him as he tied her in an intricate rope bondage. The dark blue rope was a marked contrast to her fair skin. Her eyes were closed, an expression of peace on her face. Galen shook his head. Although many submissives said rope restraints could be as comforting as being wrapped in a toasty snug blanket, he didn’t have the patience for long, involved bondage sessions.

Z was sitting on a bar stool. Galen and Vance joined him.

Z’s wife, Jessica, was perched on the bar top. The submissive’s wrist cuffs were clipped to a leather waist belt, keeping her arms at her sides. The low neckline of her knit dress had been pulled down far enough to expose her full breasts. Brows together. Eyes filled with fire. Spitting mad.

Galen felt grateful she was gagged.

Out of kicking range, Z sipped his drink. “I expected you two earlier. Problems?”

“The good kind of problem, but time-consuming,” Galen said. He rested his hip on a bar stool and lowered his voice. “A New York police station got an anonymous e-mail tip with the name of a young woman targeted to be kidnapped.”

“Interesting. Why not the FBI offices?” Z asked.

Vance scowled. “The cop who’d been working the case died in an arson fire earlier this week. The e-mail was addressed to ‘Tillman’s Captain.’ And the sender went to considerable trouble to ensure he wouldn’t be traced.”

“Do you believe the informant is someone on the inside?” Z set his glass on the bar.

“Probably. The information seems accurate—the named woman fits their target parameters.” Galen rubbed his chin. “A New York special agent will see if she wants to help. Even if not, we might be able to discover if anyone has done a background check on her.” Every cog in the wheel called the Harvest Association would yield up more information. Galen was determined to get all the way to the top of the organization. And bring the bastards down.

“Good.” Z eyed the agents. “But while you’re here, let go of the police work. Whatever submissive you play with deserves your complete attention. And you both need the break.”

Vance snorted. “I bet they call you Mama around here, don’t they?”

“Not within my hearing.” Z rose and pulled his wife off the bar. “Perhaps you can speak in a polite tone now, kitten?”

When she glared at him, he chuckled and fondled her breasts. The color in her cheeks heightened in a charming mixture of embarrassment, fury, and arousal.

A loud laugh drew Galen’s attention.

“’Tis our favorite Feds.” Behind the bar, Cullen grinned. “What’ll it be, gents? You playing or drinking?”

“Play first,” Galen said. “Hopefully with a little brunette.”

“Sally anywhere around?” Vance asked.

“She was negotiating a scene with Casey,” Cullen said. “You might check the dungeon room.”

Well, hell. He’d looked forward to taking her another step further this evening. “She’s obviously not jumping at the chance to play with us. You owe me fifty bucks,” he said to Vance.

“Fuck. You’ve got the soul of a loan shark.” Vance rubbed his face. “Might as well go watch.”

“Ayuh.” When Galen turned, he saw Jessica on her knees, delivering a sincere-looking apology to Z. Very nice.

Vance grinned. “Aren’t spitfires cute?”

As Galen led the way to the back and down the theme room hallway, he saw a Dom and short Uzuri cleaning the medical room. On the other side, violet-wand play cast intriguing lights and shadows in the darkened office theme room. The dungeon was the last room on the right.

Vance stepped in beside him and leaned against the wall. After a few minutes, he murmured, “Well, damn.”

Exactly so. Sally had her arms restrained above her head from the rafter chains, legs open. In between flogging sets, the Dom was finger fucking her. His face held the dark red of arousal, and a hard-on bulged the front of his jeans.

Sally didn’t look excited. At all. Even worse, the flogging appeared to be hurting her. Over the last few months, Galen had observed that the girl wasn’t a masochist. She needed an erotic component to enjoy pain. And right now, the arousal wasn’t there.

He saw her open her mouth, undoubtedly for one of her unsublike orders, but she said nothing. Weariness tugged at her features, then disappeared.

The Dom was jamming his fingers into her cunt and rubbing frantically at her clit. Her movements—that he undoubtedly took to be of arousal—looked more like discomfort to Galen.

“As Masters are we allowed to intervene in that debacle?” Vance asked in a low voice.

“I prefer you leave that to me unless there’s some urgency.” The owner of the Shadowlands stood in the door, his face tight. “But it does need to be—”

The moaning scream cut off his words as Sally had a noisy, obviously quite satisfying orgasm.

A very, very fake orgasm. From the way the Dom puffed up, he’d been taken in completely.

Z growled under his breath. “That I didn’t need to see.”

“You plan to let her get away with that bullshit?” Vance’s lips pressed together. Galen knew dishonesty in any form eradicated his partner’s laid-back nature. Good thing Sally hadn’t faked an orgasm during their scene, or she wouldn’t have been able to sit down for a week.

“No.” Z sighed. “But I prefer the newer Dominants not discover their shortcomings in such a public fashion…especially from a trainee.”

Yes, that would hurt.

The grinning Dom finished freeing Sally and ran his hands over her body. She had a sweet smile on her face. Wasn’t mouthing off. What was wrong with the girl?

Z walked forward. “Casey, I’m afraid we have a problem.”

Galen leaned a shoulder against the wall.

As Casey turned, Sally saw Z, and her face turned white.

“Sally, explain what you did and apologize to the Dom.” When she seemed paralyzed, Z added coldly, “From your knees, trainee.”

She dropped to her knees and stared at the floor. Her voice shook as she said, “I didn’t get off. I faked it. I’m very sorry.”

Casey’s mouth fell open, and the flush of arousal faded from his face and left him looking as if he’d been punched.

Galen felt a fair amount of sympathy for him. They’d all been inexperienced at one time, and it took a while before a man’s cock didn’t lead him around. Casey had been a sloppy Dom for not paying attention, but Sally had been a worse submissive for not simply telling him she wasn’t getting anywhere.

Odd she hadn’t. He’d seen her ream out Doms if they botched restraints, flogging, or other BDSM techniques. Yet he couldn’t recall her complaining about sexual techniques or saying she wasn’t aroused. Galen frowned. Had she ever shared how she actually felt?

She was so mouthy he might have missed those times. He rubbed his chin.

Casey started to speak and then bit the words back, taking the time to think first. Two points to the lad. “I’m disappointed in you, Sally, both for faking and for not telling me your head wasn’t in the scene.” He said to Z, “I screwed up, obviously, in not paying closer attention.”

“Let’s go talk about that now.” Z’s voice chilled. “Sally, remain there without speaking until someone returns for you.”

Her shoulders hunched slightly, but she didn’t move otherwise.

As the Dom cleaned the equipment, Z rejoined Galen and Vance. “Masters, I think it’s time to put you to use. Do you feel up to giving a class on how to detect if a female is faking an orgasm?”