Master of My Mind BN
Read Master of My Mind BN Online
Authors: Jenna Jacob
Master of My Mind
The
Doms
of Genesis, Book 3
Jenna Jacob
The
Doms
of Genesis Series
Saving My Submission (
Coming Soon
)
Collaboration
(With Shayla Black and Isabella
LaPearl
)
The
Doms
of Her Life Series
The Bold and
The
Dominant (
Coming Soon
)
Master
Of
My Mind
The
Doms
of
Genesis, Book 3
Jenna Jacob
Published by Jenna Jacob
Copyright 2014 Jenna Jacob
Cover Image by Dee Allen
ePub
ISBN 978-0-9885445-4-3
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work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places,
characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are
fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or
establishments is solely coincidental.
For
Leagh
Look for more Jenna Jacob titles,
soon
to be released
, at the end of this story.
Take a sneak peek
at New York Times
Bestselling Author Shayla Black’s brand new Wicked Lovers novel “Theirs to
Cherish”
On sale now
ONE
I stood beneath the faded green awning staring at the
gleaming mahogany casket. The sparkling brass handles mocked the warmth that
had been ripped from my soul. A cold rain splattered upon the canopy while
somber faced friends gathered beneath it to show their respect. Across the
gravesite, seated in fabric covered, folding chairs, I watched as the
well-rehearsed tears spilled down the cheeks of his ex-wife. His hateful
daughter tried to soothe the ice queen’s theatrics. Neither woman was there to
mourn the loss of the man I loved but to masquerade as grieving victims until
the fat inheritance landed in their laps.
The monotone voice of the Minister resonated in my ears.
None of his words of comfort penetrated the numb void that had consumed me for
days. I was all but dead inside; just as dead as my beloved Master, who would
soon be lowered into the black earth hollowed out below him. And God help me, I
wanted to go with him. Not because I wanted to die but because I couldn’t
imagine life without him.
The honorable George Bartholomew Marston, State Supreme
Court Justice for the past four decades was being laid to rest. I felt as if I
was outside my own body. Friends and family stood in a line before passing the
casket one last time, placing blood red roses atop the gleaming wooden box. I
felt as if I’d been transported into a macabre movie, one I could barely watch
but helplessly had to endure.
George’s best friend and fellow judge, Reed
Landes
stepped up to the coffin; his eyes were rimmed red,
and the distinguished man’s chin quivered. I swallowed back a sob. Pain wrapped
its icy hands around my heart and squeezed. It was almost time to say good-bye:
however that was beyond my comprehension.
A firm, steady hand enveloped my shoulder. Glancing up, I
found myself gazing into the compassionate amber eyes of Mika
LaBrache
; friend, Dominant, and owner of the BDSM club,
Genesis. I’d spent countless hours basking in my Master’s adoration at Mika’s
club. His submissive, Julianna, dabbed at the tears on her cheek before
smoothing a hand over her very pregnant belly. I couldn’t ignore how life
mirrored death. A new life grew inside her.
A life that she
and Mika would love, protect
, and cherish—while the soul that had loved,
protected, and cherished me was gone. It was so fucking unfair.
“It’s time to lay your rose on the casket,
Leagh
.” Julianna wrapped her fingers around my arm as I
glanced down at the blood red rose gripped in my fist. Opening my hand, tiny
red dots blossomed in the center of my palm. The thorns were smeared in
crimson. It seemed like hours had passed since Trevor handed me the flower.
Strange, I had no recollection of it piercing my flesh.
“I can’t do it,” I choked, swallowing back the tears I’d
held inside for days. Even knowing a part of me would be interred with George
forever did little to ease my devastation. Sucking in a ragged breath, I willed
myself to remain strong. I refused to allow George’s ex or daughter to revel in
my pain or glean the depth of my love for him. They’d only use it as a weapon
against me.
It had been humiliating enough, while standing on the church
steps, when George’s ex-wife demanded I be barred from the memorial service.
Luckily, Drake, an imposing leather Dom from Genesis, leaned down and whispered
something into the haughty bitch’s ear. She’d sputtered and paled before she
jerked her nose in the air and stormed inside the chapel. If it hadn’t been for
Drake’s intervention, I never would have gathered the courage to attend the
devotion. I’d shielded my grief from the hateful shrew then; I wasn’t about to
let her see a chink in my armor now.
With a nod of understanding, Mika lifted the rose from my
palm and set it atop the copious pile of flowers adorning the casket. When he
returned, Julianna wrapped her arm around my waist, attempting to lead me from
the gravesite. My entire body froze. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to.
Stepping from beneath the awning meant I’d be forced to face a future without
George. Even more unbearable was the fact that I would be leaving him alone,
entombed in the cold black earth.
“Can you give us a little help here?” Mika murmured to Tony
Delvaggio
, the familiar Dom, Sadist, Dungeon Monitor, and
resident shrink of Genesis.
He was a hulk of a man who always called me “brat” to my
face—and meant it. The same one, who set butterflies dipping and swooping in my
stomach every time I caught him staring at me in the club. He was erotic beyond
words, turning submissive heads—collared or not—every night at Genesis. Tony
always sent my pulse racing, even now. It was ridiculous for him to affect me
in such a way.
Stupid even.
I’d always been civil to
the man, because he was a Dom and a friend of George’s, but his intense nature
made my skin itch in a very uncomfortable way.
Julianna stepped aside as Tony slid a thick arm around my
shoulder. He was warm and solid. I tried to ignore the way he made my heart
skitter.
“I’ve got her, Mika. You just keep Julianna and that little
bun in the oven dry. We’ll meet you back at the cars.”
Tony raised his umbrella. It opened with a whoosh before he
maneuvered me from beneath the canopy. Somehow, I managed to put one foot in
front of the other while I focused on Mika escorting Julianna up the hill. He
held her close to his side—protective and adoring—enveloping her in comfort,
reassurance, and love.
Anguish sliced deep. George was gone yet Julianna still had
all the things I longed for. Even though she was one of my closest friends,
envy burned spreading like a cancer through my veins. Tears stung my eyes as I
cast my gaze toward the ground. The wet, brown grass blurred.
“Just a bit farther,
Leagh
,” Tony
encouraged. His voice was husky and deep.
Glancing up at Tony, he gave me a smile, but it didn’t reach
his eyes. Sorrow and pity replaced his usual piercing gaze. “Are you going back
to the church for the luncheon?”
I shook my head
no
. I
couldn’t stomach the thought of sharing the same air with George’s pretentious
ex-wife, Sloane or his snotty, spoiled daughter, Hayden. “I just want to go
home.”
“No problem. I’ll take you.”
After settling me into his car, Tony jogged toward Mika.
Through the rain splattered windshield, I watched the two men exchange a few
words before Tony hurried back and climbed in behind the wheel. As he started
the engine, I couldn’t help but exhale a heavy sigh. The funeral was over. Yet
the anxiety and fears that had eaten at me for the past four days weren’t gone,
they’d simply been replaced by new ones.
A long, unrelenting list spooled through my head. Most
pressing, I had to find a job and a new place to live. Since Hayden was
George’s only heir, I wouldn’t be welcome in his stately mansion after the will
was read. Even though his elegant home on the shore of Lake Michigan had been
my legal residence for the past two and a half years, his vile daughter would
force me out as soon as she possibly could. I had a little reprieve though.
Reed
Landes
, the executor of George’s estate, had
assured me that I was welcome to stay until Master’s affairs had been settled.
But the clock was ticking, and time was running out. The fairy tale was at its
end.
Staring out the foggy window, I watched the scenery rush
past while I tempered the growing ache to crawl into bed, snuggle between the
sheets, and absorb the waning vestiges of George’s scent. Hold tight to his
ghost for as long as possible before I had to find a way to say good-bye.
“If you need someone to talk to…someone to help you work
through the stages. My door is always—”
“What stages, Tony?” I cut him off with a scathing glare.
“There are no stages. There’s nothing but a hole in my heart the size of the
universe. There’s not a damn thing you can do or say to wake me up from this
nightmare.”
He cast a sideways glance, as his lips drew together in a
narrow line. A wave of tension rolled off his body and filled the short
distance between us. No doubt he was pissed at my snippy reply. Good. Maybe
he’d shut up and drive and stop making me feel like one of his patients.
“There are stages,” he continued, dashing my dreams of a
silent trip home. “You’re not ready to move past denial and anger yet. I get
that. I’m simply extending the offer. When the time comes and you’re ready to
start healing again, I’m here if you need to talk.”
“Healing?” A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “I’m trying to
survive ten seconds at a time without falling apart at the seams. I haven’t
even started thinking about healing.”
“There’s nothing wrong with falling apart. It takes time,
but it will get better.”
“I’m not sure I want it to,” I murmured as he turned and
drove up the long driveway.
It was my first trip back to the house since George died.
Julianna and Mika had whisked me away to stay with them after Master’s body had
been taken to the mortuary. I didn’t want to stay there alone. At the time, the
thought of roaming from room to room, assaulted by his memories seemed
painfully masochistic. But now I yearned to wrap the precious times we’d shared
around me, savor them, and mourn the loss of my best friend, alone.
When Tony parked in front of the red brick and mortar steps,
I turned to face him. “Thanks for the ride and um, for the offer to pick my
brain. I’m going to pass for now, but I’ll see you around.”
Cold rain pelted my face as I hurried from the vehicle.
Aware of Tony waiting for me to get inside safely, I dug out the keys from the
bottom of my purse. Glancing up, I noticed an envelope taped to the front door.
Scrolled in feminine penmanship was my name;
Leagh
Bennett
.
I slid my key into the lock, but it wouldn’t turn. When I
tried a second time, my heart sank. No doubt Hayden had done her worst. Tearing
the note from the door, I pulled out the pages from within and began to read.
Ms. Bennett,
Please find enclosed a
Restraining Order forbidding you from this property. There will be no other
form of communication to you from either of us. My mother and I refuse to
acknowledge your unique association with my father. Be advised that his
upstanding reputation in the community, and courts, shall remain unblemished.
Should you make any slanderous remarks hinting otherwise, we will file suit against
you for defamation of character.
Your personal property is
exactly where it belongs—on the side of the house—in the trash. Take what you
can salvage and leave. You will be arrested for trespassing if you set foot on
these premises ever again.
Good riddance. May you rot in
hell!
Hayden Marston
As I stepped back from the door, the rain dripped from my
hair, and slithered like cold fingers down my spine. Stunned by the note’s
contents, I forced myself to re-read it once, then twice, while my guts turned to
liquid. A tingling wave of panic spread through my limbs, and the tears I’d
courageously fought for days filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.
“
Leagh
?
Is everything okay? What’s that letter say?”
Turning toward the sound of Tony’s voice, I saw his torso
poised between the partially opened car door and the frame. I knew he was
watching me even though his face had blurred from my tears.
Realizing that all my belongings were shoved into the trash,
I dropped the papers, my keys, and my purse and sprinted toward the side of the
house. A mournful cry of despair, sounding more like the call of a wounded
animal, tore from my throat and echoed in my ears.
Panting and crying, I flipped the lid of the garbage
receptacle open. The scent of feces and decay permeated my senses. Stumbling
back, I gagged and sucked in a breath of fresh air before peering inside. Paper
plates filled with dog excrement had been placed on top of open and leaking
cans of pungent tuna fish, and tomato paste, while raw and broken eggs jiggled
as drops of rain landed upon the slippery membranes. A bottle of Italian salad
dressing lay on its side, dripping oil and vinegar mixing in with the sludge.
Gazing at the putrid concoction, I spied some of the expensive clothing Master
had given me as gifts, saturated beneath the muck.
Rage thundered through me. Staring down into the slurry, I
remembered how George would pull packages with big red bows from behind his
back. “
I like to spoil you with pretty things,
my wild tiger cub.
”
Anguish stabbed, slicing deep. Turning, I spotted a long
branch that had fallen from the bare oak tree. Plucking it from the ground, I
carefully slid the forked bough beneath the plates of dog poop and tossed them
onto the grass. Spearing the sleeve of my favorite Chanel blouse, I lifted it
from beneath the slimy mixture. The dusty pink silk had been shredded by sharp
razor blades or scissors. It was totally ruined.
Rooting around the amalgam, I shoved my wet hair from my
face, desperate to find one piece of salvageable clothing. But each and every
item had been obliterated by Sloane and Hayden’s savagery. Why had they done
such a vile thing? It wasn’t as if I’d stolen the man away from either of them.
It was my understanding that Sloane had wanted out of the marriage, at least
that’s how George had explained it. He’d been relieved to be rid of the shrew.
The bitch’s venomous cruelty made no sense, whatsoever.
When I spied the handcrafted wooden box that stored my
collar, hope soared. Using the branch, I lifted it from the barrel and
carefully lowered it to the ground.
Easing open an unsullied corner, I lifted the lid. My treasured leather
collar had been cut to bits, mingled among slivers of mutilated photographs.
Every treasured snapshot of me and George had been reduced to confetti. My
whole world tilted on its axis.
