Finding Master Right

Her third orgasm caught her by surprise. Unlike the others, this one was a total bitch and made everything throb painfully.

By the time she was coherent enough to realize that Ba

“Don’t worry. It’s tradition, little slave.” He peeled her hair away where it was stuck and kissed the back of her neck.

Her heart fluttered. How could he sound romantic when his cock was still buried in her ass? “Tomorrow when we see them, no one will mention hearing anything.”

Slowly, gently, he slid out of her, giving her body time to adjust to his withdrawal. He groaned.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” She looked back at him, and he was gri

“That . . . that blew my mind. Are you okay?” He stroked her ass, examined her, then patted her as if he approved of something.

“I don’t know.” She sniffled. “I feel like my new Dom should buy me a pony or something, although I have no desire to sit on anything ever again.”

“You’re not bleeding or anything, so you’re good to go again anytime.” Ba

She rolled onto her side, whining as all of her muscles protested. Her ass ached, and her clit felt as though he’d sanded it off. Good to go again anytime? No fucking way.

He came back before she’d found the energy to move and settled them under the covers. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her face, her eyelids, her lips.

“When I was on my way here tonight, I never thought . . .” He stared at her, so close that he almost looked as though he had one eye. Kate moved her head back a fraction until he had two eyes again.

The wonder on his face made her feel important and special—as if she were the best thing that had ever happened to him. Maybe it wasn’t true, or maybe it was just the after-orgasm buzz, but for now, she’d take it. This close he was almost unbearably beautiful. The short dark hair and dark eyes usually made him seem dangerous, but the only danger from him right now was the way his lazy smile made her heart skip a beat.

But what would happen the next day? Were they actually together—a couple? Or was this just something he had to get out of his system? Asking for answers this minute seemed rude, but she had to know. It seemed like they were on the same page, but what if they weren’t?

Relax, Kate. Enjoy the afterglow. There’ll be time to interrogate him tomorrow.

“We seem to have this problem where we keep ending up in bed together.” She smiled shyly.

His brows drew together. “It’s a problem for you?”

“As long as we never have to um . . . do that again . . . then no.” She held her breath, wondering if that would be a deal breaker for him.

“Never?” How did a guy manage to look dominant while lying on his side and cuddling?

Something stirred inside her, responding, wanting to please him. He smelled like sweat and sex and still faintly of leather, and even though she was sore, her body was trying to convince her that maybe some quiet, vanilla sex could be doable. Did he even do vanilla?

“W-well. If it was a hard limit, would you give me away again?”

“No, absolutely not.” He pulled her tighter.

They stared at each other. Ba

“There’s a lot we need to talk about, but maybe we should wait until we’re not in a house full of people.” His words rumbled in his chest, the vibration feeling sexy under her hand.

Was “having a lot to talk about” good or bad? Not knowing what he meant was making her stomach twist.

“Okay.” She laid her head on his shoulder and snuggled in. The first hint of sleepiness tried to steal over her. As she began to drift off, she had a vivid recollection of Ambrose and Konstantin applauding. “Oh fuck. I can’t believe you made me scream like that!” She buried her face in his neck.

“What? What? I can’t hear you,” he said loudly, then gri

She laughed and smacked him.

He quickly reminded her why smacking a Dominant was a bad idea.

Chapter 18

The obnoxious preprogrammed ringtone dragged him out of a deep, almost drugged sleep. Lost, he tried to follow the noise, then realized it was the only thing glowing in the dark room. He stubbed his toe on something but managed to grab the phone and hit ANSWER before it went to voice mail.

“Hello.”

“Ba

Shit. Mom?

“It’s me. What’s the matter?”

The other end went silent and terror leached through him. Then his brain took a step back, watching things unfold dispassionately. He remembered the gurney. His father’s waxy skin. Abruptly, he sat down on the floor and realized he was in a room with carpeting. Not home. Where the fuck was he?

“Meadow?”

“It’s . . . it’s . . .”

Mom. Hell, how were they going to go on without her? They were too young to be orphans. Such a weird word, “orphans.” It conjured images of lockets and mangy dogs. She’d overdosed. They’d known it was coming.

Meadow was talking now, the words coming out jumbled. “You have to come now! They pumped his stomach. He’s unconscious. It was the whole fucking bottle, I think. I just picked it up for Mom yesterday. If Dylan hadn’t called the house phone . . . Oh god. Mom is here with me, but they’re not sure if he’s going to be okay. Ba

It was Rook? Rook? He was on his feet and searching for a door or something. It was so dark. Something banged into him at waist height. A light turned on.

He looked around the room and saw Kate sitting up in bed, her hand on the bedside lamp.

“What’s wrong?”

Maybe that’s what she said. The words were coming from a long way off. She took something out of his hand. The phone. She was talking to Meadow.

Kate hung up and put the phone on the bed. She dressed, threw his pants at him, then ran down the hall and came back with his shirt.

If he died . . . If Rook was dead by the time they got to the hospital . . .

There were things he had to say. Did the kid know how much he loved him? Pressure and buzzing started in his head.

Did Rook know how much of his life revolved around him and how, if he died, Ba

Kate shook him. He’d been standing in the middle of the room, naked, not doing anything. It only took a second to get dressed. Kate pocketed his phone, then led him down the hall, asking where his car keys were. She found them in the jar by the door.

This was his fault. What had he missed? Rook had seemed happy at the art show. He’d smiled. Teased him. Lent him Dad’s watch.

The watch.

Late alarm bells went off in his head. He’d been happy that Rook seemed happy, but it was all wrong. That wasn’t the way Rook had been lately. And the watch—how had he missed that? Rook clung to the few memories he had of Dad. He never would have lent that watch so easily. He’d given it to him already knowing. At the art gallery he’d already had a plan.