Freeing Rowan (Masters Club 3)

She felt as if she were caught in a torrent of a raging, wild river that culminated in a ninety-degree waterfall. Whether she wanted it or not, she was being dragged relentlessly forward. Each crashing blow of the flogger was like a wave, lifting and hurtling her closer to the edge.

Panic bloomed inside her, lifting her to her toes once more as she struggled desperately to fill her lungs.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, she was going to blow it again. Master John rose in her mind’s eye, his face mottling with anger at her stubborn refusal to let go. She wanted to! She just didn’t know how…

“I can’t,” she chanted, unable to stop the words from spilling out. “I can’t, I can’t, I…”

“You can. You are.”

The stinging slap of leather was replaced by a strong, warm hand moving in gentle circles over her heated skin. The trainer’s voice was calm and reassuring, his mouth close to her ear. “You’re doing so well, Rowan. You’re nearly there. I can feel it.”

His touch, his tone, the certainty in his voice silenced the chattering in her head. She was able to draw in a breath, and then another, the panic sliding away.

“That’s it,” he soothed, continuing to stroke her, his touch like silk over her skin. “Let’s go this last bit together, okay? You can do it. I know you can.”

She nodded mutely, absurdly grateful for this unexpected tenderness.

He moved back and resumed the sweep of swishing leather over her ass, shoulders and thighs. He started gently at first, but rapidly increased the intensity until each stroke pressed her deeper against the smooth wood of the cross.

This time, however, there was no accompanying panic as the erotic pain intensified to a fever-pitch. She opened fully to the experience, eager for it, desperate for it. It had become as necessary as air.

“More,” she whispered. “More, more, more…”

She was hovering now on the precipice of something powerful. As the flogger crashed against her flesh, a blinding flash of brilliant white light filled her vision, a rush of wind blocking her ears.

Angel’s wings wrapped around her as a deep, encompassing silence enveloped her, cradling her in its warm, strong embrace. A deep, powerful sense of profound wellbeing suffused her spirit.

She wanted to remain there forever, drifting in this lucid, vivid dream.

For the first time in a very long time, she was completely, utterly, deliciously at peace…

Chapter 4

“Rowan? You with me? You okay?”

Rowan slowly opened her eyes. As she focused, she squinted with confusion at the strange man standing before her. Then her brain clicked back on, and everything came back in a rush.

She had no idea what had just happened, but whatever it was, it had been amazing. She felt energized and refreshed, like she could run a marathon or climb a mountain. She realized she was grinning stupidly but couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.

“Oh, yes, Sir,” she breathed. “I’ve never experienced anything like that.”

Eric stood in front of the cross, facing her, a slightly quizzical expression on his face. “You’ve never flown during a scene?”

“Was that what that was?” She’d heard about the concept, but it had sounded awfully new-agey, touchy-feely. It had certainly never happened with Master John. Whatever it was, it had been awesome. She wanted to experience that again.

Eric smiled. “I’d bet my last dollar on it,” he said. “Let’s get you down from there and then we’ll talk about it.”

He moved around her, releasing first her ankles and then her wrists. He held her arms as they flopped down, gently massaging them back to life. His hands were large, his fingertips and palms calloused. They scraped lightly against her skin as he rubbed the circulation back into her arms.

His touch was quite different from Master John’s, whose long, elegant hands were smooth and tapered, his nails always perfectly manicured. The thought reminded her of her own ragged nails, and Master John’s displeasure at the admittedly nasty habit. She curled her hands into fists, some of her newfound serenity from the wonderful flogging ebbing.

“Come over to the mat and lie down on your stomach, head cradled in your hands,” Eric directed, pulling her back to the moment. “I’ll just put a little of the Masters Club in-house ointment on your back. You took quite an intensive flogging.”

Rowan lowered herself gingerly down, her skin on fire from shoulder to thigh, despite the endorphins still swimming in her bloodstream. She watched from her prone position as the trainer crouched in front of the small cabinet and withdrew a fresh tube of ointment.

As he smoothed the soothing salve over her flesh, Rowan couldn’t contain the sigh of pure pleasure. He used the tips of his fingers to gently rub the balm over every stinging inch. Whatever this was, it worked ten times better than the Arnica she was used to. Her relief was instant, the pain literally melting away with the trainer’s touch.