Make Me, Sir [Masters of the Shadowlands 5] by Cherise Sinclair

Author:Cherise Sinclair [Sinclair, Cherise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BDSM Suspense
ISBN: 9781607379423
Published: 2011-02-01T05:00:00+00:00

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Late Saturday night, Jessica sat upstairs in Z"s private third-story rooms and fumed. She hadn"t gone to the Shadowlands yesterday because of a late client appointment—estimated tax payments could screw up the best schedules—and had looked forward to tonight. But Z had said he didn"t want her in the club. And the jerk wouldn"t tell her why, just claimed he had internal club problems.

Sure he did. She paced across the living room. Galahad watched, the end of his tail flicking as he contemplated chasing her feet. At least he wanted to chase her.

In the quiet room, she could hear the sounds of the Shadowlands, the low pulse of the music, mostly the bass. Occasionally a high cry. Very little, really. Z had said he"d put in an excessive amount of soundproofing when he set up the club.

What would he do if she went down there? Jessica tried to rub the chill from her arms. He"d left no room for misunderstanding. Stay out of the club tonight and next weekend too. He"d smiled and said that was all he"d ask, just tonight and next weekend.

Her mouth thinned. When she"d worked on the Shadowlands accounts, she"d noticed the new trainee"s membership lasted only a month—after next weekend, Gabrielle would be gone.

Well, maybe I’ll be gone too.

The thought pierced her heart like a sharp blade. She shook her head. Z"s withdrawal had something to do with that…that person. What if he wanted to play with her without Jessica around to get her feelings hurt?

She stared at the wall. In the beginning, Z had let Cullen join a scene and touch Jessica. Did Z figure she should share him with others?

Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir

125

Anger sliced into her brain so sharply it took her breath away. I won’t, damn him. Her hands fisted, and if he"d been present, she"d have hit him. Man, I need to get out of here before I make a scene like a child.

She trotted down the inside stairs and stopped in the ground-floor hallway. No car. Z"d picked her up, saying she could join the guys" poker game after closing. She was stuck here until Z left the club. Dammit.

At the bottom of the stairs in the empty hall, she paced up and down, and if she kicked the wall a few times, well, tough.

An unknowable amount of time later, she heard the sound of a key, and Z

stepped through from the club. God, he looked tired. Under the unforgiving hall light, harsh lines bracketed his mouth; another line carved between his eyebrows.

How could he make her heart leap, make her worry about him, and make her hate him all at the same time?

He saw her and inclined his head. “Jessica. Is there a problem?”

“No.” Yes. She stomped on the urge—the need—to hold him, to let him comfort her and to give him comfort in return. He looked like he badly needed a hug.

No. He could just take himself off and get soothed by someone else.

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