Page 1 of Master Cordell

Chapter1

Cordell Roberts’s sweet submissive had just said the three little words he’d always discouraged with the women he helped recover from abusive D/s relationships. But with Tiffany Armstrong, he’d selfishlywantedto hear “I love you” fall from her lips for several weeks now. Ever since he’d stopped fighting the fact he was falling for her.

However, never in his wildest dreams had he imagined the look of horror and panic that’d stolen over her face when she realized what she’d said to him. She’d frozen in his arms and then jumped away from him, her trembling hands covering her mouth, and her eyes wider than he’d ever seen them. The blood had drained from her cheeks, leaving her frighteningly pale. “I-I didn’t mean it like that, Master. I-I’m sorry. I was just s-so excited about the job. I-I didn’t mean I love you as in love-love, just ...” Without warning, she dropped to her knees and bowed her head, her gaze downcast. Her body quivered, and he almost didn’t hear her whispered plea. “I’m s-sorry, M-Master. Please don’t send me away. P-please.”

His heart sank, and the delicious food they’d sampled moments earlier felt like it was going to regurgitate on him. All those months of retraining her to not call him Master and building up her confidence, so she wouldn’t cower or stutter in front of him, had been shot to hell in mere seconds. Her abusive ex-Dom had done a number on her, and the last thing Cordell wanted was for Tiffany to call him Master like the asshole had demanded from her, even at certain times when they’d been in public. Tiffany wasn’t a slave, but that’s what she’d been to Bruce Whitlow who was a wannabe Dom without a single clue what the lifestyle was truly about. He used the usually-respected title of Master as a reason to abuse women—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Before Cordell and Tiffany had left Vegas for the Florida Keys, it’d taken everything in him not to hunt the bastard down and beat the crap out of him.

Soft footsteps approached, and Cordell held up his hand, palm out, to stop Dante Calvano from coming any closer. Quickly understanding, the Aussie halted in his tracks, then took several steps backward, giving them some privacy. The three of them, and Dante’s trained German shepherd, Cooper, had been the only ones in the outside seating area of a quaint restaurant in Key West. It was too early for the business to be open, but they were there to taste-test food prepared by a woman who was being considered for the head chef position at the new BDSM-lifestyle resort Cordell would be managing. Dante had already been hired as the security chief, while Cordell had just offered Tiffany the job of assistant manager of the resort. She’d been ecstatic until the three words she obviously regretted had blurted from her mouth.

A year ago, Cordell had taken Tiffany under his wing at the request of Mitch Sawyer, a Dom who lived in Tampa and was engaged to the submissive’s cousin, Tori Freyja. The couple was actually in a ménage relationship with another man, Tyler Ellis. When Tiffany had found the courage to leave her cruel Master of two years, Mitch had asked around through his lifestyle contacts for a Dom who could help her overcome the damage Whitlow had done. That’s how he'd found Cordell. After fully vetting the Las Vegas police lieutenant, Mitch had asked him to assist in Tiffany’s recovery from the Master/slave relationship she should never have been in. Since he hadn’t had a submissive at the time, Cordell had been more than happy to take on a new project.

He knew that’s what the Doms and subs at Club Domain called the women that he helped: projects. Although he didn’t particularly like that word for someone who’d been abused, it stayed in his mind and kept him from getting too involved on a personal level. That way, he could eventually find the subs suitable Masters after they recovered. But somewhere along the line, Tiffany had wormed her way into his heart much further than any other sub ever had—even the “non-project” ones he’d dated.

When Mitch and Tyler had recently approached Cordell about relocating to the Florida Keys to manage and be the resident Dom of their new BDSM resort on Master Key, he’d easily accepted the offer. Mitch, and his two cousins, Ian and Devon Sawyer, owned a successful lifestyle club in Tampa and had wanted to take advantage of their stellar reputation by starting a new venture. Following an on-duty injury—a gunshot wound to his hip resulting in permanent nerve damage—Cordell’s law enforcement career had ended sooner than anyone had expected. He hadn’t known what he wanted to do when he finally left the LVPD, but with the unplanned forced retirement, the job offer had come at the perfect time. Since he’d still been reprogramming Tiffany, Mitch and Ty had said she was welcome to take the position of her choice at the Master Key Resort (MKR) if she wanted to move there with Cordell. She’d been happy to accept the opportunity since she’d be closer to her cousin.

During their road trip from Nevada to Florida a few weeks ago, Cordell had decided to take a chance and ask Tiffany if she’d been willing to renegotiate their no-sex contract to one that included intimacy. She’d done so willingly, and he’d thought that meant she’d developed deeper feelings for him, but apparently, he’d been wrong.

Hiding his disappointment, he said, “Eyes on me, little one.” She hesitated for only a moment, but then her watery gaze met his blank one. Cordell sighed inwardly. “I would never send you away for saying something you meant one way but came out sounding another. I understand you were simply happy about the job—and itisyour job since you so obviously want it. I didn’t take your words to mean anything more than that.”

The relief he saw in her eyes was like a kick to the gut. He had to keep reminding himself that even though the terms of their contract had changed, she was still a work in progress. When she was ready to move on, he’d have to find her a permanent Dom she could fall in love with, because it obviously wasn’t him.

He held out a hand to her. “Please, take your seat again, and we’ll discuss your new position at the resort and enjoy the next course, which should be out it a few minutes.”

She placed her trembling hand in his, and he helped her stand.

“Thank you, Sir,” she mumbled as she sat at the table again. A sharp pain in his hip had him shifting in his seat to get into a more comfortable position. While he still had an occasional limp, with the new physical therapist he’d found in Marathon, not far from the resort, it’d decreased dramatically. This guy used different techniques that the police department-recommended therapist in Vegas hadn’t, and Cordell had been more than pleased with the results. If the gunshot wound had been the only issue, with its resulting partial hip replacement and some hardware in the head of his femur, he probably still wouldn’t have needed the PT after all this time. But the damaged nerve flared up a few times a week, and the therapy helped to strengthen the muscles around it, reducing the intensity and frequency.

Signaling for Dante to join them, Cordell struggled to think of something to say to lighten the mood again. It’d been a pleasant morning until a few minutes ago, and he wanted to get them back on track. Thankfully, though, as Dante quietly took his seat at the table, the waitress walked out of the building carrying a tray laden with several dishes Adley Markham had prepared as possibilities for the menu at MKR. She was a well-respected chef from Miami, and the food they’d sampled earlier had explained why she’d received many great reviews over the past few years. Everything had been delicious.

Unfortunately, Cordell had lost his appetite after Tiffany’s meltdown. He was grateful when Dante seemed to understand his help was needed to break the uneasy tension and engaged Tiffany in conversation until the color came back to her face and her shoulders were no longer stiff. Now if Cordell could only get rid of the feeling of a knife being stuck in his heart then things would be back to normal.

Chapter2

Butterflies were having an all-out war in Tiffany’s stomach as she glanced around the bathroom, looking for something else she could do to delay walking into the bedroom she’d been sharing with Sir for the past few weeks. It’d been a long day, especially since she’d blurted out, “I love you,” to Cordell. She’d dreamed of saying those words to him one day, and having him say them back, but had known since their initial introduction that love was not something that would be part of their relationship. At least, not the “in love” type. Even though they’d recently updated their contract to include sex, it still had an unspecified end date. When Sir thought Tiffany was ready to have a healthy relationship with a man, he’d help her find the perfect Dom. The only problem with that was Cordellwasthe perfect Dom—at least in her eyes—and the one she wanted.

She’d fallen for him months ago but had managed to keep her feelings to herself, knowing they wouldn’t be reciprocated. Those feelings had grown even deeper when intimacy had been added to the mix. Making love—no, she couldn’t use that phrase—having sexwith Sir was amazing, but it also meant her heart was going to be not only broken but shattered when he decided it was time for her to move on.

Tiffany had felt him stiffen when she’d told him she loved him earlier at the restaurant, and she’d been terrified, thinking he would end their contract immediately. The relief she’d felt when he’d said he understood the words hadn’t been a declaration of love, only that she’d been happy about being offered the assistant manager position, had lasted a mere few moments. It was then she’d realized how badly she wanted to say those words to him for real and have him respond in kind—but, of course, that would never happen.

Tiffany was a project to Cordell and nothing more. On more than one occasion, she’d overheard people talking at the lifestyle club they’d belonged to back in Las Vegas. It was a place she’d only been able to go to because of her cousin’s fiancé, who’d paid the expensive membership for her. According to several Doms and subs there, Master Cordell’s new submissive—Tiffany—was his current “project,” and he never developed a relationship beyond a D/s one with any of the female submissives he aided.

After Sir had helped her to her feet, and the next course had arrived, Tiffany hadn’t tasted a thing for the rest of their meal. Thankfully, Dante had been there to fill in the silence. By the time they’d finished all the course samplings, Tiffany had been grateful to see Sir smiling again. On the drive home, he’d called Mitch and Ty and informed them, from his point of view, they’d found the resort’s head chef, which they’d been happy to hear.

When they’d arrived back at the small island, where the resort was being built, Sir and Dante had gone off to check on several things, with Cooper on his owner’s heels. Tiffany had spent the rest of the day in the company of Eastwood. Sir’s big, gray rescued cat had finally settled into the cottage they were staying in, which was about a football field away from the main resort. Once again, he acted like he was the king of the castle, and Sir and Tiffany were his loyal subjects. Depending on his mood at any given moment, they were either snubbed, frowned at because his water or food bowls hadn’t been filled to capacity, or lavished with attention only to be snubbed again moments later.

Since they’d eaten well earlier in the day, Tiffany hadn’t been hungry when Sir had offered to make omelets for dinner, so she’d declined and opted to take a bath instead. If Sir had been disappointed she didn’t eat with him, he hadn’t shown it. He also hadn’t joined her in their big Jacuzzi tub, but after she’d ruined their morning, she hadn’t really expected him to.

Now, after drying herself off with a towel, rubbing moisturizer all over her body, brushing her teeth, and then cleaning the tub, toilet, and sink, and reorganizing the cabinets, Tiffany had run out of things to do. That meant she had to go get ready to turn in for the night. Would Sir want to share the bed with her, like he had every night since they’d arrived on the island? Or would he ask her to go sleep in the cottage’s spare bedroom?

A knock on the door had her nearly jumping out of her skin, and she barely held back a scream.

“Pet, are you almost done in there?”

“Y-yes, Sir. Coming.”

After taking a deep breath and a final glance in the mirror, Tiffany opened the door. Cordell was standing there, as handsome as ever, holding a clean T-shirt and a pair of lounge pants. She stepped past him, doing her best to not brush against any part of his sculpted body. “It’s all yours, Sir.”

Before she could put some distance between them, he reached up and cupped her cheek. “Are you okay, little one?”

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