Cherise Sinclair - This is who I am

“Oh, Mommy…” When Brenna burst into tears, Sam forgave her. But the little bastard hadn’t said a word, was staring out the window.

Sam’s hand fisted, and then he saw tears rolling down the kid’s cheek. He’d clenched his jaw…and his chin was quivering. Macho boy had a tender heart, after all.

Job almost done. Wrap it up. “So. Your mama might like sex with a side dish of kink, but doesn’t mean she asked for any of that.” He rose. Add a threat if they gave her any more trouble? No, they looked shell-shocked. “Call her. She’s had enough grief. Doesn’t need it from the ones who are supposed to love her.”

When they both flinched, he slapped the table in satisfaction and walked away.

As he strode down the street, he pondered his next problem. How was he going to keep Linda from killing him when she learned he’d given her children a come-to-Jesus talk?

Linda parked her car in the small parking area at the side of Sam’s house and got out, disappointed his truck wasn’t there.

After greeting her with a quick lick of her fingers, Connagher returned to his front porch perch. Sam had said the dog “supervised” from there.

The construction crew was still working on the stable. Leaving her purse in the car, Linda wandered over to watch. They were amazing—like a choreographed musical with the dancers wearing jeans and T-shirts. Piece by piece, she could see the building coming together.

“You must be Linda.” A rough voice came from behind her.

She spun. A huge, dark-faced, scarred man loomed far too close, and she stumbled back. Run! Even as she recognized him as one of the construction crew, the icy fear refused to abate, forcing her to retreat another step. She couldn’t think—

“I’m Nolan. Saw you at the club.” He stood with Sam’s quiet patience. His face even held the same “panic if you need to, I’ll wait” expression.

The club? Of course. The subs at the Shadowlands had pointed him out. Her heart slowed to a mild gallop as she realized this was the Dom she’d said would step over a person’s body without looking back. Up close, he was even more intimidating. “I’m sorry. You startled me and I—”Was afraid you were a slaver. Um, not a polite thing to say.

“I’m not one of the bad guys, although my wife might disagree at times.” His grin came and went so fast she wasn’t sure she’d seen it. “Beth said she was going to have lunch with you today.”

Just shoot me now. Beth had even said her husband was the contractor here. Linda smiled and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He shook her hand gently. Like Sam, he seemed very aware of his strength.

And like Sam, he didn’t feel obligated to hold up his side of a conversation. At a loss, she said, “So you belong to Beth?”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “I see it as the other way around.”

Linda felt herself turn red. The guy was a Dom. Duh, Linda.

To her relief, Sam pulled his truck in beside her car and got out.

Her heart lifted higher as each of his long strides brought him closer.

“I didn’t expect you this soon,” he said. She had a moment of worry that he wasn’t happy to see her before he yanked her onto her toes for a kiss. Hard hands, demanding lips.

Her body slid into meltdown.

After tucking her against his side, he gave his dog a quick pat and greeted Nolan. “How’s it going?”

Nolan’s gaze touched her. He looked as if he was almost smiling before he answered Sam, “Ahead of schedule.” He checked his watch and turned to yell at his crew, “Day’s over. Finish up.”

The cheers made the horses in the pasture trot to the far end.

Nolan turned back to tell Sam. “Left your paint in the old barn.” After nodding to Linda, he rejoined his gang.

She shook her head. A woman who’d been abused married to that scary-looking man. Beth was braver than she looked.

Sam curved his hand over her hip. “I’d like a beer, a meal, and sex…not in that order.”

When his grip increased to the point of pain, she gasped, feeling everything shiver and loosen inside. “Well, I—”

His eyes crinkled. “Yeah, we could go straight to sex.”

Her heart acquired the same rat-tat rhythm as the nail gun. “I suppose.”

“Suppose?” He yanked her head back, holding her easily so she stared up into his light eyes. “Try again, missy. You might start begging now.”

Beg? Never. Ever. A nasty buzz like a million bees stung the insides of her head. “Slut, you want food? Beg for it.” As coldness shot through her, she struggled against his grip.

Sam released her hair instantly. His other hand lay lightly on her shoulder. Not gripping. Palm open. Warm. “Linda. Settle.” His level, patient eyes caught hers.

As the buzzing in her head decreased and died away, she shuddered.

“Well.” He put one finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “Bad reaction. What set you off?”

The lack of emotion in his voice helped dispel the last of her fear and fury and even smoothed away some of her embarrassment at overreacting. “I…don’t like the word. Beg.”

His eyebrows, a shade darker than his steel-gray hair, lifted in inquiry. “Why?”

“The Overseer”—the slaver Kim called a scum sucker—“made us beg for everything. To eat. To use the bathroom. To stand up. Sit down. For light.”

Sam growled. “And if you didn’t beg, he’d hurt you. If you did, it would never be enough.”

He knew. Understood. She closed her eyes and nodded.

He gathered her into his arms, rocked her back and forth. “Rough time, girl.”

She melted into him. He didn’t have a smooth tongue, but the comfort he offered was unsurpassed anywhere. His left palm kept her firmly against him; his other hand massaged the muscles on each side of her spine, loosening the knots.

“That’s not a good trigger word to have, though.” He pulled back and cupped her cheek. “I’ll work on getting you past that.”

“I…” Lovely. “Do all Doms try to fix things?”

The lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes deepened. “Yep.”

With a huff of exasperation, she walked with him to the house. In pickups and cars, the construction workers were streaming down the drive. The one at the end gave a honk-honk, and then quiet settled over the farm.

Conn stopped them for a minute to gather pets, then loped toward the pasture.

Linda glanced at Sam. “What’s he up to?”

“He was on guard while the construction crew was here. Now he’ll make sure no varmints invaded since his morning patrol.”

Linda laughed when the dog turned to look at them, as if to say the house was in their care now.

“So what did you do today?” Linda asked as Sam led the way into the kitchen. She nodded when he pulled out a bottle of wine.

He poured her a glass. “Financial chores—bank, accountant. Had a chat with a couple of people, looked at some new equipment, ordered more grain.” He grabbed a beer for himself and drew her out to the front porch to join him on the swing.

“Busy man.” He had so many balls in the air, it was a wonder he could keep track. And she’d thought running a store was tricky…and thinking of that made her remember basketry. “Oops. I left a basket I wanted to finish out in the car. And my purse.”

He walked to her car with her and carried in the oversize tote of basketry supplies.

After setting her purse near the door, she pulled her cell out. The display showed texts and voice mails from Brenna and Charles. She sucked in a startled breath. So many messages. Had something happened? Why’d she been so stupid as to leave her phone in the car?

“Got a problem?”

She glanced at Sam. “My children called. Lots of calls.” Her hand shook as she hit Brenna’s speed-dial number.

“Mom. Mommy. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.” Her daughter was crying, almost incoherent. “We didn’t mean it. We shouldn’t—”

“Mom, I’m sorry.” Charles had apparently grabbed Brenna’s phone, and he didn’t sound any better.

“What?” What had they done? Burned her house down? “Charles, whatever you did, I forgive you, but what did you do?”

“Jesus, the way we talked to you. What we said. We didn’t realize.” Her big, strong son sounded as if he was in tears.

She looked at Sam, terror rising inside her. “They’re almost hysterical. What—”

Sam plucked the phone from her limp fingers and said into it, “A man makes his apologies in person. Got a piece of paper?” He paused, then gave his address. “A half hour? Good.” He tossed the phone into her open purse before giving her a nod. “They’ll come here. I need a shower.”

Mouth open, she stared after him. Her children had tried to apologize for the way they’d talked to her. Had been crying. And Sam hadn’t been surprised; his dark gray eyebrows hadn’t even lifted. As she sank into a chair, she heard the shower come on. Sam had given orders to Charles, and her obstinate son had taken them.

After a moment of weighing the facts, suspicion wove into knowledge. Sam had expected them to call. Could they have called him earlier? No, they didn’t know his last name.

But Master Sam Davies certainly wouldn’t have had any trouble finding her children. What had he done?

SAM LET THE hot water massage the tightness out of his shoulders and counted minutes in his head.

He’d made it to three minutes when the shower door was flung open.

Mama Bear had left the cave. He tried to avert his face before she noticed his amusement, but didn’t succeed.

Hands on hips, Linda glared at him. “What did you do to my children?” Even as furious as she was, her voice was still controlled. No shrieking, no hysterics. She was one fine woman. Then she slapped his shoulder. “You tell me. Now!”

He gave her a quick scan. She’d dressed for the farm in a V-neck T-shirt and jeans and left her shoes in the entry as he liked. Good enough. “As the sadist in this relationship, I do the slapping.” He grabbed the front of her shirt and yanked her into the shower.

She was soaked in seconds. Nice scream. Set all the hair on his body tingling.

“You aren’t allowed to hit me.” He ripped her T-shirt at the neck and drew it downward, pinning her arms against her sides.

“You-you-you bastard!”

“If you figure to sit and stew until they show, think again.” As she struggled, he unzipped her jeans and shoved them and her underwear down to hobble her ankles.

“Dammit, let me go.”

“Nope.” He dug his fingers into the last remaining welts on her ass, pulling her against him. With an unbreakable grip on her nape, he held her for his kiss, taking and taking until she went limp against him. Until she kissed him back.

Goddamn, the woman could kiss. As he hardened, he rubbed his dick against her and felt her resistance melt. My woman. Reluctantly, he released her lips and lifted his head. “Cooperate and we finish fast. Otherwise your children will have to wait on the porch while you’re busy in here.”

Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” Her pants pinned her legs together, and he had to work to push his hand between her thighs. But there he found her wet and ready. She trembled when he stroked over her pussy. She heated up fast. For him. The knowledge was a bone-deep satisfaction.

He circled her clit, pushed inside her entrance, then circled again. Fast, Davies. Remember? He wanted to linger and play until she screamed his name in frustration, but with a resigned sigh, he pulled her T-shirt up and off, then her bra. Hand between her shoulder blades, he bent her over, then positioned her hands on the corner shower seat. “Keep them there.”

“Sam. My children will—”

When he slapped her ass in reprimand—and to please himself—the sound echoed beautifully in the big tile shower. How many years had it been since he’d fucked a woman in a bathroom?

As the water beat on her ass, her bent-over position showed a hint of her glistening pussy, more of her anus. Nice. Even nicer, she stayed in place, and her face showed only arousal.

He rubbed the sting from her ass, pulled her labia open, and pushed his cock in an inch. Not roughly—she was still too emotionally fragile for that—but firmly. Had to be careful, but her wetness and low moan of pleasure said he was on the right path.

She was hotter than the shower, wetter, and tight enough to make him struggle for control. He pulled out halfway. When he thrust in all the way, the zing went straight to his balls.