Chapter Thirteen
When Jake arrived at the Shadowlands, he swung by the bar where Raoul sat talking to Cullen. "Men," Jake greeted.
He received chin lifts.
"I thought you said you needed time off," Raoul said. "Did you change your mind?"
He hadn't. The Shadowlands held too many memories of Rainie. "Not exactly. Z asked me to stop in and talk to him." And had refused to discuss the problem, whatever it was, on the phone.
"He's in the back." Raoul nodded toward the rear of the club. "Near the cages."
"Thanks." Jake slapped Raoul on the shoulder and headed through the room, walking past the various scenes, inhaling the scents of leather, light perfume, sweat, and fear.
With Jessica curled in his lap, Z sat in a black leather chair, watching a newer Domme practice with a flogger. He noticed Jake's approach and squeezed his submissive's shoulder. "Can you give us a few minutes, kitten? I don't want to put you in the position of keeping secrets from a friend."
Jessica frowned at him. "What evil thing are you up to now?" When her Dom didn't answer, she gave a cute grunt of exasperation, then rubbed her cheek against Z's in a pretty surrender.
As the little blonde walked away with one hand on her rounded belly, Jake took a seat. "What's up?"
"Thank you for coming in." Z picked up his drink. "Did Rainie mention our wager?"
Rainie and Z? "No." Jake shut his mouth on the questions and waited.
"She thought you wanted to be with another woman-one more suited to your class. I bet her that you would demonstrate her error."
What the hell? "My class?"
"Indeed."
Jake scowled. Rainie must have seen Nadia at the wedding. Nadia was beautiful; it was true. But Rainie seemed more comfortable in her own body than most women Jake had met, small or large. "What's this ‘class' bullshit?"
Z steepled his fingers in consideration. "Has she spoken of her goals in life?"
"I know she's studied for a career in business. She wants a management position-a high status one."
"And why did she choose high status as a goal?"
"Isn't that what every businessperson wants?"
"Not any more than all vets want to handle horses." Z smiled slightly. "Her friends say she loves your clinic-the animals, the challenges, the people. My question-which she wouldn't answer-is why she'd give up a job she loves to do something else. And why she said she had to ‘be more.'"
Jake's eyes narrowed. "Be more what? She's already … " perfect. "I don't understand."
"Nor do I. Which is why I made the bet."
Jesus, if Z made a bet with a submissive, the consequences could get ugly. Jake straightened. If Rainie were uncomfortable with the penalty, Z would damn well back off. "What are you going to make her do?"
Laughter lit Z's gray eyes. "She agreed to come here tonight to serve you in total trust and total submission."
"Me?"
Z rose. "She's in the dungeon waiting for you, Jacob. This might be a good time to get some answers."
As Z walked away, Jake stood … and sat back down.
She had to serve him. To trust him-although she obviously didn't or he'd know her background. She'd been reluctant to tell Bart about living with a drug dealer. Jennifer had mentioned the streets. Foster care. Running away.
Most people were happy to confide their pasts, ugly or not. If Rainie was so reticent, was she … ashamed? He needed to know.
And goals. The assholes the other night had really bothered her. And she wanted to be more.
Jake stared at the wall. Z's bet gave him one night-and there would be a lot to accomplish in only a few hours.
Planning came first.
And then he'd get some answers.
Her knees hurt. Head down, Rainie shifted her weight from side to side. Behind her, someone used a paddle on their submissive, and the slapping of flesh was loud in the rock-walled dungeon room.
How long had she been in here, anyway? Had Master Z forgotten her?
No, he never forgot anything … except maybe a grocery-list item. Jessica's report that the Master could be occasionally absent-minded had been a surprise.
Because he was never inattentive in the Shadowlands.
Maybe Jake didn't want to see Rainie. At the dismal thought, she blinked back tears. Determinedly she turned her attention to the sounds around her-the moaning from the other side of the dungeon, the clip of a Domme's heels. A sigh. A laugh.
Boots appeared in her field of vision. Black, scuffed at the toes. Black jeans.
Her heart lifted and actually bounced like a beach ball as her gaze rose. A heavy leather belt around trim hips. Broad shoulders under a black collared shirt-one of the slim-fit kind that showed off hard pectoral muscles and his narrow waist. Jake. My Jake.
Only he isn't. Why did she have to keep reminding herself of the fact? Why did each repetition hurt more?
His top shirt buttons were open to show the tanned skin of his chest. His shadowed jaw was tight; he looked angry. Did he even want to be here?
She dropped her eyes before meeting his gaze. Unhappiness was a solid lump under her sternum. Don't cry. She dug her fingers into her thighs so the pain would drive her tears back.
The bare skin dented under her nails. Bare legs, bare ass, bare everything. When Master Z had led her into the dungeon, he'd pointed to the corner and ordered, "Strip completely, kneel, and wait for Master Jake's directions."
And now Master Jake was here.
"So, you're to serve me tonight with total trust and total submission," Jake said. She got nothing from his voice-not sarcasm, not surprise, not enthusiasm.
He didn't sound like her Jake at all … because she'd hurt him more than she'd realized. More than she'd thought possible. The last thing she'd ever wanted to do was cause him harm. She bit her lip, wanting to beg him to understand that she wasn't the right person for him.
But he'd sent the perfect Nadia away. And come back and touched Rainie.
She swallowed. "Yes, Sir."
"Good enough." He offered his hand to help her rise. "I'm in the mood to work you over hard, so this is fine timing."
A quiver of anxiety and longing lodged low in her belly. How pitiful that she'd let him do … anything … just to have him touch her.
She followed him to the back corner. The wax play area was set up with a disposable covering on the bondage table. The heavy stone table next to it held a lit candle.
Wax could feel wonderful-or hurt like hell if the Dom was in a sadistic mood. How angry was Jake? But he'd never take out his anger on a submissive. He'd call off a scene first … wouldn't he?
"Rainie."
She dragged her gaze from the flame to look up into intent eyes. "Yes, Sir?"
"Total trust?"
She winced and let go of her doubts. "I'm sorry, Sir. I do trust you."
"You trust me with your body." He helped her onto the table and positioned her on her back with firm, impersonal hands. "But not with your emotions. Or your past. Or your future." His baritone had chilled to be as emotionless as his expression.
I don't like him this way.
Yet his quiet accusation hit the bull's-eye. The realization she'd deliberately hidden herself from him-from her Dom-was a blow severe enough to make her tremble.
With deliberate movements, he pushed a wedge under her ass to tilt her hips up and wrapped cuffs around each thigh before clipping them to the side table hooks. As he tightened the straps, her knees were forced up and out to the sides-giving him an open pussy playground, especially after he positioned her butt on the table's edge.
Another band across her low abdomen ensured she couldn't wiggle away from whatever he had planned.
When he applied a forehead strap, she barely kept from whining. Not being able to move her head made everything seem far too restrictive. More straps went over her arms, crossing both above and below her breasts.
He walked around the table, tightening or loosening the fastenings to an even snugness. "Your safeword is red. For cramping, numbness, tingling, or discomfort you can't handle, use yellow. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir." Her heart grieved for the affection missing from his voice.
"Excellent." He stood close, filling her vision and blocking out the room. "You're a beautiful, intelligent, loving woman, Rainie. Why do you think you're not good enough for me?"
The question dropped out of nowhere, a tornado ripping up her internal landscape and stealing her breath.
She had no answer for him.
He gave her time to respond and then shook his head, letting his disappointment in her silence show.
Tears prickled her eyes.
"If you don't want to talk to me, I might as well use this." After placing a squeaky toy in her fist, he gagged her with a black silicone pacifier. It wasn't as gag inducing as the huge penis ones, but the soft roundness filled her mouth completely.