Cherise Sinclair - The Dom’s Dungeon

“What are you doing?” The pupils in her brown eyes had dilated, and her voice turned husky.

He ran his hands along her legs, over her firm ass, up her waist, and stopped just under her breasts. “I wanted to remember how your body feels under my hands,” he murmured.

“Alex.” She caught his hands and held them in front of her. Her mouth firmed into a straight line, showing the stubborn line of her jaw.

“More worries, little sub?” he asked, expecting to hear the “no sex” objection.

“You don't know me. Not at all.” Her small body tightened. “I'm not a nice person either. You wouldn't like me once… Um, you wouldn't like me.”

So many fears. How did someone so competent and caring acquire such self-doubt? “MacKensie.”

She stilled at his growl.

“Let me tell you what I see, sweetheart. Your core”—he pressed his open palm between her breasts, felt her rapid breathing—“the heart of you is sweet. Loving. Tender.” He smiled. Did she realize he'd watched Butler suck her into throwing the chew toys for far longer than most people would have tolerated? He'd seen the hugs and kisses and seen Butler's adoration. Butler liked anyone who got past his guard and petted him. But he reserved his adoration for a very few special people.

“I, of course, checked your recommendations and records. You're incredibly intelligent, with a fine education and a solid reputation as a vet.”

Her fingers relaxed, and her eyes widened. Surprise and…pleasure. Did no one in her life compliment her? He no longer wondered if she'd experienced abuse in the past; he just wanted to know what kind.

Childhood pain seemed likely. But that business with arousal… Had she been raped? The way her body had tensed on the bench when he'd put a finger into her vagina… Had she expected pain or humiliation?

No matter right now. He'd pushed her at the club. Time to go easy. He pulled her shirt loose from the skirt and slid his hands under the shirt and up her back.

She inhaled, her muscles tensing, her spine straightening. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging into his muscles in her instinctive reaction to a man's hands on her body. “We're not… This isn't a club or party,” she said, her voice unsteady.

“You're very observant,” he said. He was observant as well; she hadn't said no, and her protest had been more for form's sake. She wanted his touch—and feared it at the same time. So he ignored the rigidity of her muscles and simply pleased himself, running his hands over her bared skin in a subtle reminder that her body was available to him. Those toned muscles under silky-soft skin were a delight to a Dom's hands. He continued, keeping his touch only on her waist, never venturing near her breasts or under her skirt.

The tiny hands on his shoulders relaxed, and her breathing slowed as the lack of threat let her enjoy his touch.

Then, with a smothered sigh of regret, he removed his hands, pulled her shirt down, and set her on her feet. “Let's eat on the patio.”

A week of interviews. Could there be anything more stressful in the entire world than having strangers grill you about anything and everything? Too tired to climb the stairs to her room, Mac went through the house to the back. She stepped out onto the patio and stretched, trying to relieve the knots in her shoulders.

No one had offered her a position yet. She huffed a laugh. She'd actually had this vague hope that she'd walk into a clinic and they'd jump up from behind a desk and give her a job. Maybe even a partnership. Apparently they hadn't read that script. The vets who had interviewed her had been polite, but they had others to interview and credentials to check.

Sad to say, she didn't have a huge number of references to wave in front of them. Aside from the vet who'd bought Jim's clinic, the only names on her list came from college. But they were glowing recommendations at least. Since her instructors hadn't known her past, they'd judged her only on competence. And I'm damned competent.

A scramble of feet came from inside the house, and Butler charged out, a good eighty-or-so pounds of enthusiasm. Turning in circles so he could lick and get petted both, he knocked her back a step. Bracing herself, she giggled. How could she stay unhappy with this bundle of joy around?

“He missed you,” Alex said, stepping out the door.

God, just look at him. Dark tailored slacks, silky white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to display strong arms and lean hands. The top few buttons were undone, and her gaze caught on the hollow at the base of his throat surrounded by corded muscles.

Each night this week they'd had supper together, talked, watched TV. He'd kissed her and touched her, but never intimately. She'd changed the bandages on his back and tried to ignore how…pleasant…his bare skin felt under her fingers. She couldn't help but remember how his fingers had stroked her…entered her.

And now her fingers tingled with the need to touch him. To be touched. And wasn't that a bizarre feeling? When she met his gaze, she could see the amusement in his eyes, so she bent over to pet Butler some more and get her body under control.

He found this so simple. Women undoubtedly threw themselves at his feet—literally, she thought, thinking of Cynthia. But for her… The first time she'd really looked at a man in years and he had to be some all-powerful Dom. Rich, handsome, exuding confidence. If she'd actually planned to try a man-woman relationship, she'd have chosen someone nice. Kind. Easy. Not someone who—

Firm hands closed around her wrists, anchoring them behind her back as Alex pulled her up against him. He kissed her, teasing, lazy kisses, his mouth gentle, his body hard, and his grip ruthless. The mixture made her head spin. Her insides seemed to melt into a pool, and her balance disappeared as he coaxed her into more: into deeper, into wetter, into hotter. When he pulled back, her nipples ached, and her pussy felt as swollen as her lips.

He brushed his lips over hers, then nipped her chin, and the tiny pain awakened more urgency inside her. “I missed you too, pet,” he murmured.

With a whine, Butler stepped on her feet, trying to get closer.

Alex let her go and leaned against the patio table. “Do you have any interviews this weekend?”

“No.” Unnerved by the heaviness in her limbs, she knelt to scratch Butler's sides, sending him into a frenzy of delight.

“The newscasters predict sunny skies tomorrow, although there's no guarantee with Washington weather. I thought we'd host a few people at the Vashon Island house.”

“Vashon Island?”

“In the center of Puget Sound, just a ferry ride away.” He smiled. “Don't worry, little Midwesterner, you'll like it. You haven't even visited the beach yet, have you?”

The thrill of seeing an island diminished as the rest of his plans registered. Host.Few people. “What kind of people?” she asked suspiciously.

“Those kind of people. A few whips, a chain or two. A house party tends to be more casual than the club, although we'll undoubtedly indulge in some evil play with our subs.” He chuckled at her flinch. “Yes, that will include you, pet. We won't leave until noon, so you can sleep in.”

She swallowed and nodded, wrapping her arms around Butler, although who comforted whom, she wasn't sure.

“Relax, little cat. That's tomorrow. Not here yet.” Bending down, Alex tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at her, his eyes crinkling. “Tonight, you deserve a reward for surviving all those interviews. I ordered us a pizza with everything on it.”

“Really?” When they'd shopped for her clothes, they'd wandered past a pizza place, fragrant with tomato sauce and melted cheese. She'd mentioned that she'd always rewarded herself for good grades with a fully loaded pizza.

Just an off-the-cuff comment…but he'd remembered.

It promised to be an interesting—and miserable—evening. Alex pushed open a window overlooking the Sound and let the breeze dry his body. The waves frothed over the sand, reminding him of the afternoon and the enchanted expression on his little sub's face. He'd enjoyed the way she'd immersed herself in the feel of the sand on her bare feet, the gentle movement of the water, the smell of the sea brine. Even the sandpipers running down the beach, the hermit crabs scuttling around under stolen shells, and the seagulls circling had received her absorbed attention.

He hadn't heard her truly laugh before, but when Butler raced after the gulls, sending them squawking into the air, her laughter escaped, clear and melodic. Free of restraint. Later, when he'd coaxed her back to the house, her face had been colored pink from sunburn and wind, and every tense line had disappeared.

Damn, but he wanted to hear her laugh like that again and see her eyes free of shadows.

He sighed and toweled off his hair. Instead the evening would be stressful, especially for her, but he couldn't refuse Drake's request. As the injured party, MacKensie needed to witness this, even if she'd rather not. He tossed the towel over a chair and pulled on black jeans.

The little vet was a compassionate woman. And an honest woman. Alex still hadn't figured out why she'd broken into the dungeon, but he'd found no lack of character in her nature. She'd held to their bargain despite her qualms.

In all reality, her transgression hadn't been that great, and her trip to his club should have served as full repayment and punishment. If she'd been anyone else, he'd have released her at that point.