Dark Citadel
Page 10

When he lifted his head, she couldn’t move, could only manage a shuddery breath. With a soft chuckle, he kissed her cheek and cuddled her against his big chest. She rolled her head against him, contented and a little confused.
When he held her, controlled her, she got so aroused, but when Buck did almost exactly the same things—ordering her, wanting to restrain her—she felt repelled. That didn’t make any sense.
Of course, any woman with a functioning ovary would see Sir and want him. Oh, yes. But it was more than that. Part of what made her so hot and needy was the aura of power around him. No, more than that…controlled power.
He didn’t let his body lead him around. He didn’t let her lead him around either. And he was honest. She didn’t have to guess if she did something right. If he wasn’t happy, she found out right away. If he wanted her to do something, he said so.
And he liked her body. Liked her. She really liked him too. Especially right now. Getting off—when she did—always left her feeling a little lost. Vulnerable. But the way he held her so firmly against him made her feel safe. Cherished, even.
Even if she had more questions about herself than when she started, he’d given her an evening to remember.
She set her hand on his cheek, feeling the roughness of beard shadow. “Sir,” she whispered and pulled his head down so she could kiss him and show him how much she appreciated his consideration.
When they broke this time, his eyes were soft as he looked down at her. “Kari,” he murmured. He pulled her tighter against him, his hand stroking her shoulder. “Sweetheart, you are…”
He stopped, and his hand froze against her arm. For a moment, he looked at her as if he didn’t know who she was.
“Sir?”
His brows drew together, and his arms loosened. Then he pushed her to her feet. “It’s time you went home.”
When he stood, she lifted a hand toward him but let it drop. “Are you mad? Did I do something wrong?”
His mouth smiled, but his eyes didn’t. “No, you did nothing wrong. You’re a very nice woman, Kari.”
Well, talk about damned with faint praise.
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.