core. God, she wanted him again.
And he knew, dammit. “It was my pleasure, little one.”
He laced his fingers into her hair and took her mouth, his kiss long and lingering with a new hint of tenderness. She sighed when he pulled back.
“Are you going to give me your phone number?” he asked gently, studying her, his eyes steel gray in the morning sun.
“It’s --” She stopped. Did she want to continue this? Be the sort of person who did stuff like this? The night was over, and in the light of day, somehow she wasn’t comfortable with 80
Cherise Sinclair
the idea, even though, just gazing at Master Z, she wanted to drag him back into that little room. And do more…stuff. “I --”
His smile was faint. “I understand. Perhaps it is good you have time to think. I fear you had a rather abrupt introduction to the lifestyle.”
Guilt crawled through her at the darkening of his gaze, almost as if she’d hurt him, but surely not. Ben said he had women everywhere, all he wanted. “I don’t…” She trailed off, unsure what there was to say.
“I hope you come back, Jessica,” he murmured. “You will always be welcome here.” He brushed a kiss across her cheek, then turned and reentered the house, making her think of a king entering his castle.
Leaving her with a sense of loss deep in her stomach.
Okay. Get it together. She turned, searching for the tow truck and saw only a limousine in the driveway. Where --”
“Miss Jessica?” The uniformed chauffeur stood beside the car.
A limo for her? All the way back to Tampa? Was Sir crazy? She glanced back at the front door, thought about protesting. She knew she wouldn’t win, and she didn’t really want to. “I’m Jessica.”
Club Shadowlands
81
Chapter Eight
The following week was fairly normal for Jessica: meetings with clients, working on the computer, wading through poorly kept records and ledgers. But something inside her had changed and apparently was as obvious on the outside as on the inside.
“You look…different,” one of her colleagues said when she saw him in the coffee room.
She glanced down at herself. Same old tailored slacks and shirt. Hair in a French braid.
Discreet makeup.
“No, not the clothes,” he said, frowning. “Just, different. Hey, why don’t you join me for a drink after work?”
Too weird. They’d dated briefly and had boring sex. He’d dumped her, which hurt her pride more than anything else. He was the office hunk, after all. Now his interest had returned?
“Thanks, but no. I’m pretty busy these days,” she said.
“Oh. Okay.” Confusion, then shock crossed his face at the refusal.
She was a little shocked too, for she had no interest in dating him again. In all reality, next to Master Z, he seemed insipid. Hollow like a Subway sandwich without any meat inside.
82
Cherise Sinclair
Pining after Master Z was not good.
At night, her tiny apartment felt more lonely than normal as she thought about the difference in her, unsure what it meant. On the plus side of the ledger, she now knew her sex drive was alive and well, that she could have fantastic orgasms just like other women.
That change was so new, so mind-altering, she couldn’t quite encompass it. She felt…sexy.
But on the minus side… Well. Leaning back on the couch, she stared up at the ceiling.
Those miraculous orgasms were from being tied up, having a man tell her what to do, and make her do it. Even as she shook her head in disbelief, her body heated, moistened. Ready for more. Wanting more.
Surely she didn’t want more bondage stuff. But the thought of never having sex like that again was…was like imagining life without chocolate. She rested her head in her hands.
What was she going to do?
Saturday arrived after seven days of confusion and six nights of erotic dreams. She’d fall asleep, and Master Z would be there, his firm hands holding her in place, his mouth on hers, on her breasts, on everywhere. She’d awaken,
And he knew, dammit. “It was my pleasure, little one.”
He laced his fingers into her hair and took her mouth, his kiss long and lingering with a new hint of tenderness. She sighed when he pulled back.
“Are you going to give me your phone number?” he asked gently, studying her, his eyes steel gray in the morning sun.
“It’s --” She stopped. Did she want to continue this? Be the sort of person who did stuff like this? The night was over, and in the light of day, somehow she wasn’t comfortable with 80
Cherise Sinclair
the idea, even though, just gazing at Master Z, she wanted to drag him back into that little room. And do more…stuff. “I --”
His smile was faint. “I understand. Perhaps it is good you have time to think. I fear you had a rather abrupt introduction to the lifestyle.”
Guilt crawled through her at the darkening of his gaze, almost as if she’d hurt him, but surely not. Ben said he had women everywhere, all he wanted. “I don’t…” She trailed off, unsure what there was to say.
“I hope you come back, Jessica,” he murmured. “You will always be welcome here.” He brushed a kiss across her cheek, then turned and reentered the house, making her think of a king entering his castle.
Leaving her with a sense of loss deep in her stomach.
Okay. Get it together. She turned, searching for the tow truck and saw only a limousine in the driveway. Where --”
“Miss Jessica?” The uniformed chauffeur stood beside the car.
A limo for her? All the way back to Tampa? Was Sir crazy? She glanced back at the front door, thought about protesting. She knew she wouldn’t win, and she didn’t really want to. “I’m Jessica.”
Club Shadowlands
81
Chapter Eight
The following week was fairly normal for Jessica: meetings with clients, working on the computer, wading through poorly kept records and ledgers. But something inside her had changed and apparently was as obvious on the outside as on the inside.
“You look…different,” one of her colleagues said when she saw him in the coffee room.
She glanced down at herself. Same old tailored slacks and shirt. Hair in a French braid.
Discreet makeup.
“No, not the clothes,” he said, frowning. “Just, different. Hey, why don’t you join me for a drink after work?”
Too weird. They’d dated briefly and had boring sex. He’d dumped her, which hurt her pride more than anything else. He was the office hunk, after all. Now his interest had returned?
“Thanks, but no. I’m pretty busy these days,” she said.
“Oh. Okay.” Confusion, then shock crossed his face at the refusal.
She was a little shocked too, for she had no interest in dating him again. In all reality, next to Master Z, he seemed insipid. Hollow like a Subway sandwich without any meat inside.
82
Cherise Sinclair
Pining after Master Z was not good.
At night, her tiny apartment felt more lonely than normal as she thought about the difference in her, unsure what it meant. On the plus side of the ledger, she now knew her sex drive was alive and well, that she could have fantastic orgasms just like other women.
That change was so new, so mind-altering, she couldn’t quite encompass it. She felt…sexy.
But on the minus side… Well. Leaning back on the couch, she stared up at the ceiling.
Those miraculous orgasms were from being tied up, having a man tell her what to do, and make her do it. Even as she shook her head in disbelief, her body heated, moistened. Ready for more. Wanting more.
Surely she didn’t want more bondage stuff. But the thought of never having sex like that again was…was like imagining life without chocolate. She rested her head in her hands.
What was she going to do?
Saturday arrived after seven days of confusion and six nights of erotic dreams. She’d fall asleep, and Master Z would be there, his firm hands holding her in place, his mouth on hers, on her breasts, on everywhere. She’d awaken,
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