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Zachary studied the man sitting across from him. Muscles slightly tensed, eyes level but wary, face blanked of expression. Protective posture. Protective thoughts. For Anne.
Benjamin had grown up on New York streets, caring for his mother and sisters. He’d joined the U.S. Army to protect his country and moved into the Rangers to do an even better job. Anne might be the Dominant, but this soldier operated under his own priorities.
Zachary did the same.
“Should I sign you up for membership in the club?” he asked in a flanking maneuver.
“Sh*t.” Benjamin choked on his beer and coughed. “Ah, no. That’d be like pulling the trigger before aiming.”
“I see.” What he could also see wasthat Benjamin had, indeed, enjoyed the session and wanted more.
As the Domme, Anne had the next move. She’d apparently not made one.
These weren’t two people he’d have predicted to be a good match, but their scene on Saturday had held tremendous energy and chemistry. They’d been caught up in each other.
Normally a good thing. But…
Z regarded his glass, seeing the reflection of the lightning in the amber liquid. Although the scene in the Shadowlands had shown that Benjamin was sexually submissive, he didn’t possess a slave’s mentality, and it was doubtful the man could adapt to that lifestyle.
He doubted if Anne would even allow Ben to try.
“Spit it out, Z.”
Z looked up. “Mistress Anne is one of the finest Dominants I’ve ever met. She is also exceptionally reserved. Her slaves don’t live with her. Her control when she is with them is absolute. She picks her ‘boys’ carefully and they worship the ground she walks on. I’m not sure—”
“I’m not her type. I knew that.” Ben’s jaw was firm. “And you delivered your warning.”
“I’m not finished. If a submissive isn’t her slave, she might play with him in the club. Once or twice.”
“She’s also a sadist.”
“I do know that”—Ben held up his hand—“and I know she went lightly on me last week.”
A discharged Army Ranger, Ben considers his job as a BDSM club security guard to be an excellent hobby. He’s never been tempted to join in. But everything changes when the notorious Mistress Anne inadvertently reveals the caring heart concealed beneath her Domme armor.
Now, he’s set his sights on the beautiful Shadowlands Mistress. Maybe he’d considered himself vanilla, but she can put her stiletto on his chest any day, any time. He’ll trust her delicate hands to hold his heart. And if she wants to whip his ass on the way to an outstanding climax, he’s just fine with that too.
Sure, he knows she likes “pretty boy” slaves. And he’s older. Craggy and rough. And six-five. Minor hindrances. The mission is a go.
Having to wear glasses in elementary school can scar a person for life.
Dubbed a nerd at an early age, Cherise Sinclair has been trying to live up to the stereotype ever since. And what better way than being an author?
Known for writing deeply emotional stories, the USA Today Bestselling Author has penned sixteen erotic romance novels, most with a BDSM theme. (Please do not mention the phrase mommy porn in her presence.) Her awards range from a National Leather Award to a Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice nomination to a GoodReads BDSM group award for best author of the year.
Cherise lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband. Their two fledglings have left the nest recently to try their wings and hopefully will fly high and strong. The “ascendant erotica queen” (Rolling Stone Magazine) now spends her days writing with occasional supervision from a sadistic calico cat.
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