Protector: Doms of Mountain Bend Book 1 BJ Wane (best books to read for teens txt) 📖

Pulling out his cell, he remained by the slider to keep an eye on the dogs while he returned the call. “Hey, Father. What’s up?”

“Just checking in with you, son. How are you guys getting by without Buck?”

“We miss him, but we’re fine. Work keeps us busy. Miss Betty stays in touch, and that helps.” Shawn grinned, watching the dogs wrestle.

“If you’d find a nice girl and settle down, you’d be happier.”

“How do you know?” he retorted but with humor. “You’ve never married.”

“I’m married to the church, and she’s made me happy.” Father paused a moment then said in a guarded tone, “Are you seeing anyone?”

Wondering at the sudden interest in his love life, Shawn said, “I see several women all the time. No one special, if that’s what you’re wondering. Why all this concern over my bachelorhood?”

“You just turned thirty-five. I figured you would be ready to think about having a family.”

“I have a family. You, Dakota, and Clayton. And Miss Betty still likes to cook for us and give us hugs.”

Unbidden, the memory of thin arms clinging to his neck and a small body quivering against his chest popped into his head. He still thought of that little girl now and then, wishing Father Joe would tell him more about where she ended up living after that night. Other than to tell Shawn he and social services had found another foster home for the girl, and that she was safe, the priest had refused to disclose any other information about her, including her name. For months after relocating to Buck’s ranch, he had been plagued with thoughts and worry about the frail little girl, her trusting green eyes haunting him even in sleep. Shawn had no explanation for the strong impact that short encounter made on him to still remember her so vividly after all this time.

“That’s good. I’ll let you go, son. You take care, now.”

“You too, Father.” Shawn hung up, thinking that was one of the oddest conversations he’d ever had with the priest.

****

Lisa jerked as Master Wade snapped the flogger across her buttocks again, the spreader bar holding her feet apart and immobile, keeping her in position on the chain. Tears blurred the wall in front of her when the painful stinging the multiple strands elicited failed to bring her usual, much needed response of numbing relief. Fisting her cuffed hands above her, she braced for the next lash, praying for the temporary distraction she craved.

“What do you want, Lisa?” Master Wade demanded, running the thin leather strips over her clenched buttocks. Her bare body glistened with perspiration, but inside she remained cold.

“More, please. And…harder,” she whispered, ashamed of the depth of her longing for this extreme method of escapism. When she’d first explored BDSM as a means to cope with the nightmares that had plagued her since childhood, she’d never dreamed she would need it to withstand with the possibility of a stalker intent on hurting her, or worse.

His low curse didn’t bode well for her, but he struck again anyway, giving her the more forceful blow she’d begged for. Blistering heat erupted across her tender globes, wrenching a cry from her tight throat, but her mind remained aware of her surroundings in the Phoenix club, her pussy dry when she yearned for those blessed moments of freedom an orgasm offered.

Lisa whimpered and hung her head, her long hair falling forward to hide her face as Master Wade stepped close enough his leather vest and pants brushed her bare skin. When he bent to free her ankles, she knew the scene was over and disappointment swamped her.

“Your head isn’t in the game tonight, Lisa,” he admonished as he rose and released her bound wrists next.

She fell against him and sighed when his arms came around her. He was her favorite Dom, but even with him before tonight, she had continued to fall short of achieving her ultimate goal of exorcising her sexual hangups. Now, with the added fear and stress of having picked up a stalker, she couldn’t even gain the minimal relief she used to reap from alternative sex before the first harassing phone call.

“I know. I’m sorry, sir.”

Master Wade squeezed her then reached for her dress and panties lying on a chair against the wall. He slipped the sleeveless sheath over her head, and it fell to just above her knees, the soft, pale-blue cotton cool against her hot buttocks.

“I can do that, sir,” she protested when he stooped down and held out her panties for her to step into.

“I know you can, but let me help you. It’s the least I can do since I’ve failed to get you to tell me what’s wrong.”

Tears pricked Lisa’s eyes again as she braced on his shoulders and lifted her feet one at a time. For over a year now she’d entrusted her body to Master Wade and a few others, seeking answers to a blurry past, and now, evasion from a personal threat. The small orgasmic pops she’d managed under their tutelage were the first and only bouts of pleasure she’d reaped from any sexual encounter. Granted, she could only boast of two affairs before seeking membership to the club, but neither her fondness for those men nor the sex had been enough to thaw the ice that formed whenever they touched her.

I can’t tell you what I’m not sure about. Lisa stepped away from Master Wade as he dropped his hands. “I’m sorry. If I knew, I would tell you.” She looked around the large, converted warehouse at the people she’d come to know well enough to bare herself in front of, but still refrained from forming close friendships, determined to keep this part of her life secret. Most of their faces reflected the contentment and pleasure she wanted more than