Read Online Dark Citadel by Cherise Sinclair - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cherise Sinclair
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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 Masters of the Shadowlands: Dark Citadel
41
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.
He’d called that area her pussy . Since starting to teach high school, she’d heard the oddly descriptive term a time or two, but it certainly never appeared in any biology textbook
She set the swing to rocking again. Although his fingers, his mouth—heck, everything he’d done had been stimulating—the huge difference had come from feeling helpless, from having no control.
She’d never been so excited in her life. Had never had an orgasm like that…ever.
And God, she wanted to do it all over again.
But she wouldn’t have Master Dan with her next time. The thought made her stomach twist, so she sipped more tea. He had been…overwhelming. She couldn’t get him out of her mind, how his face had looked when he’d touched her. The way he’d watched her so intently. How he’d pushed her, controlled her.
Jessica said there were other experienced Doms. Would she feel the same with one of them? Would they have the same deep laugh, firm hands…? She sighed, remembering the hard, clean line of his jaw, the corded muscles in his neck. Would they have those?
No, probably not. But she’d discovered something about herself tonight. The way her body reacted to domination was what she’d been looking for all her life. Master Dan’s control had filled a need inside her. Scary as the thought of returning to the club alone might be,
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 Masters of the Shadowlands: Dark Citadel
41
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.
He’d called that area her pussy . Since starting to teach high school, she’d heard the oddly descriptive term a time or two, but it certainly never appeared in any biology textbook
She set the swing to rocking again. Although his fingers, his mouth—heck, everything he’d done had been stimulating—the huge difference had come from feeling helpless, from having no control.
She’d never been so excited in her life. Had never had an orgasm like that…ever.
And God, she wanted to do it all over again.
But she wouldn’t have Master Dan with her next time. The thought made her stomach twist, so she sipped more tea. He had been…overwhelming. She couldn’t get him out of her mind, how his face had looked when he’d touched her. The way he’d watched her so intently. How he’d pushed her, controlled her.
Jessica said there were other experienced Doms. Would she feel the same with one of them? Would they have the same deep laugh, firm hands…? She sighed, remembering the hard, clean line of his jaw, the corded muscles in his neck. Would they have those?
No, probably not. But she’d discovered something about herself tonight. The way her body reacted to domination was what she’d been looking for all her life. Master Dan’s control had filled a need inside her. Scary as the thought of returning to the club alone might be,
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