Cherise Sinclair - My Liege of Dark Haven

The ache of grief had softened, not died. “Yes. That’s why.”

“I thought the slaves served you, not another Master.”

“When they’re here, they do. In any way I ask.”

“Oh.” She’d stiffened in his arms.

“But I prefer a Dominant/submissive relationship to Master/slave, Abby.”

She didn’t relax. A little insecurity in a submissive wasn’t a bad thing, but her doubts shouldn’t be whether the Dominant cared. Time to direct that uneasiness into a different channel. “Sit up and straddle me. Then unbutton your shirt.”

Her eyes widened.

No, I’m not an easy man. He waited.

Biting her lip, she pushed up and rested her weight on his hips. Button by button she opened her flannel shirt. Such creamy skin.

“Pretty bra, but it’s in my way. Open it.”

Her breathing increased as she undid the front latch.

“Very good.” With his left hand, he pushed her arms to the sides and pulled open her shirt. Her nipples had contracted into pale pink buds. “You have beautiful breasts, little fluff. I enjoy looking at them.”

He also enjoyed the tiny shiver that ran through her. Rather than touching her as expected, he continued. “What was four again?”

Her pale brows drew together; she’d forgotten their discussion. “Um. Glamorous.”

“Ah. And gorgeous.” Women. At least men usually worried only if their dicks were big enough. Females worried about everything: hips, chest, hair, fingers. He’d heard one woman fret over the shape of her fingernails. “Ninety-nine percent of glamour is from the clothing and makeup.” Although he dated flashy women for social functions—mostly for the effect on other men—he rarely asked them out more than three or four times. But that number was irrelevant; the point was that Abby felt insecure. “Now, I wouldn’t call you gorgeous.”

“No, I’m not.”

“But you are lovely.”

“I’m what?” Surprise chased across her expression.

“We’ll use my definitions,” he said, striving for a properly pompous professorial tone. “Gorgeous indicates a surface beauty. Loveliness is a gestalt of personality and appearance, both required.” He smiled. “One of my earliest lovers was a French woman. Older, with wrinkles. Sagging skin and breasts. Big nose. Not gorgeous. But she had confidence, kindness, and a joyful sexuality that couldn’t be resisted. Wherever she went, men followed as if on a leash. Me included.”

Abby’s gray eyes lit as if the sun had risen behind morning clouds.

“Now there,” he murmured. “When you smile, you have the same appeal.” He stroked his finger down her cheek. “You’re like a luminous moon fairy, and added to that is your sweetness and intelligence. You’re lovely, Abby.”

Her face was confused. Vulnerable.

“Didn’t Nathan ever tell you that?” Oh, bad, Leduc. Not the time to bring up former lovers.

Color rolled into her cheeks. “I’ve been called pretty.” A hint of pain crossed her face. “My stepsister is…gorgeous…and she could take a man away from me with a snap of her fingers.”

And obviously had. Life wasn’t always fair. “If that was her typical behavior, I daresay she lost them as quickly.”

She gave a husky chuckle. “I guess she did.”

“You delight me, Abby.” Xavier curled his fingers over her nape and drew her down. He kissed her gently. Her instant response never failed to please him.

When he released her, she pushed back up to stare at him. Her fluffy hair fell over her cheeks.

“Last concern, you think we’re not alike at all.” A kiss. “If you’re a nerd, and I’m the opposite, does that mean you believe I’m stupid?”

She inhaled sharply, spotting the insult. He let her see the disapproval in his eyes.

“No. Of course not. That’s not what I meant.”

“We’re both smart, then?” he asked. She was trapped. Why men needed to hunt the forests, he’d never understood. Not when there was so much better sport at home.

“Yes.”

“Mmmmh.” He touched her chin. “If I told you I came from a redneck working family, would you tell me I wasn’t good enough for you? Because your family has more money?”

“No. That isn’t it.”

Tenderhearted little fluff. “Then I lack any understanding of your last point.”

She glared at him. “You’re definitely not stupid.”

He grinned and set his hand back on her neck. “Now it’s my turn, isn’t it?”

He felt her pulse pick up. “Yes, I believe so.”

“Hmm. One, I like you, Abigail. I like your intelligence, your laugh, your willingness to care for puppies and grumpy Doms, your wayward hair, and the way your mind works.”

Her eyes were wide now as she drank in his words like a plant at the end of a drought.

“Two, as a Dom I look for a certain personality in a submissive.” He ran his finger over her lower lip, feeling the tiny quiver, so quickly controlled. “You love to help, to make people—and puppies—happy. But you don’t surrender to every man walking in the door. Not even Nathan.” He smiled at her. “It seems you’ve reserved your submission for me, and I value that.

“Three, you enjoy a fair amount of erotic pain, but you’re not a masochist. You don’t have any hard limits that would bother me, and as far as I’ve found, you don’t want something I can’t provide.”

Her eyes kept getting wider.

“Four, I liked having you in my home today, even though I’m not at my best. I’d like you to be here longer, so I can treat you”—he tugged her nipple firmly enough that her back arched and her eyes dilated—“a bit rougher.”

He pulled her down for a long, wet kiss. “I can’t think of a number five. Do you have anything you want to counter with?”

“I… No.”

“Then we’ll simply see how it goes. Stay here with me, Abby.”

“As a slave?”

“No, little fluff. As a sexual submissive.” He grinned when a shiver ran through her. “Your life is your own.” He rubbed his knuckles over her smooth cheek. “I just get to rule it now and then.” He waited.

“I’ll stay. My liege.”

“Excellent. Go clean up. Then come back here.”

She shook her head. “It’s not a good idea. I might bump your leg.”

“You’ll sleep with me.” He pointed at the bathroom. “There are spare toothbrushes and such in the drawers.”

As she slid off the bed, he studied her face. The worry was gone, leaving peace behind. She wanted his control as much as he wanted to exert it. And although terrified of altercations, she’d dared his displeasure for his own good. She was a bundle of contradictions, wasn’t she?

She returned, face pink from scrubbing.

“Clothes off.”

Her fingers shook as she removed her shirt. After setting her glasses on the bedside table, she flipped the light switch to put the room in darkness before stripping the rest of the way.

“Did you acquire something I haven’t seen before?”

“That’s not the point. Can I sleep in one of your T-shirts?”

“No, you may not.” No submissive wore clothes in his bed.

With a grumbling mutter, she carefully crawled in beside him. Ignoring her attempt to keep a distance, he pulled her closer. His immobility made him want to curse—moving her would have been easier with two arms.

Her body stayed stiff and motionless for a minute, and then she relaxed with a disgruntled sound. “Are you really all right?”

“Sore and irritated, but tomorrow will be better.” He tightened his arm around her. “Thank you for your care, Abby.”

She rubbed her cheek on his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

He thought about something and sighed. “I assume I’m getting five puppies as interim boarders?”

Her laugh lifted his heart.

Yes, it felt right to have her snuggled close as the quiet of the night surrounded them.

Trying not to gawk, Abby stopped at the lobby desk in the building where Xavier’s office was located.

Phone to her ear, the receptionist smiled and held up a finger to wait.

Not a problem. Abby turned in a circle to admire the two-story foyer. Rather than a typical ultrasleek modern design, the lobby had long planters of foliage taking advantage of the light streaming in from the all-glass front. The massive desk was a beautiful curve of dark wood that matched that of the inner balcony railing above. The fragrance of pastries and coffee came from an espresso shop to one side.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked, setting down the phone.

“I’m here to see Xavier Leduc. Could you tell me what office he’s in?”

“Do you have an appointment?” The older woman wore a dark-red suit, her hair and makeup impeccable.

“No. Not exactly.”

The woman frowned at Abby’s jeans and green hoodie. “Miss, if you want to fill out a job application, then you need office one hundred, right over there.” She pointed to a glass-fronted office across the wide foyer. “Just go inside, and someone will help you.”

“Thank you, but I’m not looking for a job. I’m picking Xavier up.”

Short and squat, the woman reminded Abby of a bulldog. Fully as stubborn too. “Mr. Leduc doesn’t—”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to cause problems for you. But he is expecting me. Please just let him know that Abigail is here.”

Her stubbornness won out. “Of course, miss. If you’ll wait over there, I’ll ring his admin.”

As Abby took a well-cushioned chair in a beautifully appointed waiting area, she frowned. Why would the owner of a BDSM club need an admin? Or an office in this fancy building for that matter. Then again, considering his home, the club must be making some pretty good money. Or maybe he had another business as well?