Dominant Persuasions Anthology: 12 Tales of D/s, Where Mastery Meets Passion Read online

  “I’ve got you; just relax for a few.”

  “Lars…” She couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped from her.

  “Shush…” He brushed her hair back from her shoulder, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close.

  If it was possible, she felt even more exposed and weak out of the ropes than she did while she’d been tied. She buried her face against his chest, wanting to hide. She had to bite her lip to keep from telling him she’d fallen in love with him. So many emotions converged on her at once, elation, guilt, but mostly she realized she was very—uncharacteristically—vulnerable to man she’d known for less than ninety days.

  How the hell did that happen?

  Pushing against his chest, she mustered her strength in an effort to get away but stopped when she met the confusion in his crystal-blue eyes. Then his expression changed and held her spellbound. An aura of power surrounded him. She somehow knew without any doubt that he understood exactly what he needed to do for her without being coached or instructed, and unlike her ascent into dominance, it was as instinctual for him as breathing. She was drawn to his strength and didn’t resist again as he pulled her close.

  “Let’s go home, sweetheart and just take it easy the rest of the night, okay?”

  11

  Lars fought to catch his breath. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he’d been sleeping, even though his racing heart and his pounding pulse made him feel as if he’d just escaped the familiar brush with death. His eyes flew open as a jagged breath escaped followed by a long exhale. He rested against his pillow, and his tense body relaxed. Every muscle ached as calm overtook the chaos and confusion. The adrenaline coursing through his veins made his body hair stand on end and amplified his sense of hearing three-fold. He heard everything at once—the clock in the front room, the constant street traffic, the familiar barking dogs, the whir of the refrigerator in his kitchen.

  He quickly identified these sounds one by one and disregarded them as innocuous because he didn’t feel the familiar edge of danger in them. He made a conscientious effort to recall his surroundings, the last thing he did, and where he actually was. A dream… With every ounce of effort, he backed away from the inky black of madness. He squeezed his eyes shut. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling of utter despair he felt himself sinking into. He’d spent his entire adult life saving the free world from all sorts of dark evil. Who the hell would come and save him? He managed to get his breathing under control and tried to combat the panic that threatened to overtake him.

  Safe, in my apartment, in my bed… His mind was a series of jumbled images he couldn’t string together in a coherent, streamlined series of events. Easy, slow and easy…breathe…sit up, slow and easy. As he lifted himself from his prone position, the sheets seemed to be sticking to his back making him realize he’d been drenched in sweat. He shivered as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He stood, slowly walked to the kitchen and leaned over the sink. A wave of nausea rocked him, and he gripped the counter in an effort to fight it off.

  “Lars?”

  He heard the tiny voice somewhere in the background as he tried to recall his dream. The soft touch running over his back felt like a needles raking over his skin, and he jerked at the sensation.

  “Lars? Are you okay?”

  He exhaled and took her hands. Marianna had come home with him, and she’d ended up spending the night. He wondered if all his tossing and turning had awakened her. “I’m okay, sweetheart,”

  Letting him go, she cupped his face and redirected his gaze. “Talk to me, honey. Tell me what happened.”

  Her soft, firm voice reached into him, drawing out the dream as if he was still reliving it. How could he tell her the awful things he’d seen and done? As he stared at her, the words stuck in his throat. She took his hand and led him back to his bed. She crawled to the center and sat up against the headboard; with her arms outstretched she beckoned to him. “Come to me.”

  Joining her, he lay down and rested his head on her belly, wrapping his arms around her hips. For a long time, she stroked his head and asked him general questions about running the club, when he and Mac had met, and other ordinary things. Slowly and gradually with her open-ended questions, he found himself relaxing and talking more openly about his tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. She asked him about the scenery but never about specific places. She asked him about the people but never their names or where he’d met them. He felt safe just talking about generalities. He told her about the local tribesmen they worked with and the Kurdish people in Iraq.

  “Sounds like some good memories, even some funny ones,” she said running her fingers through his hair.

  He chuckled and tightened his grip. “Some of them were. I’ve met some interesting people along the way,”

  “So what happened tonight?”

  “Just a bad dream, Marie,” he said pulling away. He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

  Shifting, she curled up beside him and laid her head on his chest, “Tell me again about the time Mac smuggled alcohol into Iraq.” She lightly ran her hand over his chest.

  Lars smiled at the memory and started the story again. As he talked, he couldn’t help giving in to the blissful sensation of her fingers moving in small circles over his chest and then his belly.

  “I had a dream about a guy who was in Iraq with us. We were out on an op and we were helping some Rangers clear some buildings. He and I were on overwatch while the Rangers and some of the guys in our unit swept the nearby buildings,”

  “Overwatch?”

  “I was a sniper and he was my spotter. Our job was to watch the area around where the guys were working to keep it secure and provide protection. Mmm… that feels good Marie…”

  Lars closed his eyes and relaxed even while talking about something that a few hours earlier had him feeling so hopeless.

  “So what happened?”

  “Turns out they were watching us, too, and somehow, our position got compromised. He got up to grab something, and the next thing I knew, he did a faceplant two steps away from me; they’d killed him.” Lars swallowed hard and stared up at the rotating celling fan. “We never saw it coming. The bastard must’ve been watching us for a while, because we wouldn’t move for hours. I’d been staring into my scope for so long, when I closed my eyes, I’d see the crosshairs.”

  Marianna’s hand had moved lower, and he wanted to stop her, but she just kept moving, making him turn and look at her. There was no way in hell he could get his dick hard while thinking about that day when the streets around them exploded into a full-fledged battle from hell. He remembered thinking that he’d found himself in the middle of the apocalypse and this must be what the end of the world look like.

  “Stay with me, Lars.” The soft but firm commanding tone was back as she grabbed his cock and stroked. He looked into her dark eyes, now looking like polished obsidian and just as hard. He couldn’t help but obey, and much to his amazement, she had him hard as a steel pipe within minutes.

  “Marie, sweetheart you don’t—” She silenced his protest with a firm kiss that made him dizzy when he closed his eyes.

  His mind drifted back to a very different, more recent scene. Her body wrapped in his ropes and bound with the knots he’d tied as she whimpered with every touch. His cock had been hard enough to drive nails while he watched her shake and quiver in sexual pleasure. His balls, tight and heavy, ached with the need for release. He had to bite back his own groans as he touched her. He stared at her as she kissed down his body, knowing he was in for a one hell of a nightcap. He’d never known anyone who could take his breath away with just a glance. She pulled his sleep pants down as she went, and his cock jumped at the sensation of her fingers wrapping around it and stroking. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, and when she licked her lips, he almost came.

  “Do you want me to stop?” she asked as she touched her tongue to the head of his cock.
r />   “Fuuuuuuck,” he groaned breathlessly.

  Slipping the head of his cock into her hot, wet mouth, Lars felt as if he’d just discovered nirvana. And just as quickly as he’d achieved an altered state, she snatched it from him.

  “You didn’t answer me; do you want me to stop?”

  He threaded his fingers into her hair and held her firm. “No, god, no.”

  Sliding her lips around his cock, she held him firm, her soft tongue sliding over the sensitive underside. She sucked him long and deep, and the vibrations of her moans around his cock pushed him to the brink at light speed. Lars let her go and grabbed the sheets under him as Marianna upped her pace. Never in his life did he have to struggle so hard to control his body’s reaction to a woman.

  “Marie…” he groaned, “Sweetheart, you need to stop. I can’t hold on anymore.”

  When he reached for her, she shoved his hands away, doubled down on him and sucked him harder and a little rougher, just the way he liked it. The signs were all there, and his body reacted in a perfectly orchestrated explosion. His balls tightened, making his back arch as he came harder than he could ever remember coming before. The muscles in his thighs shook, and when he squeezed his eyes shut, he swore he could see stars. Thrusting his head back into the pillow, he growled as she sucked him dry.

  When he opened his eyes again, she was staring at him, smiling. “Feel better?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he murmured and relaxed as she curled up next to him.

  “Trust me, Lars,” she said with a big yawn.

  As he drifted into sleep he murmured to her, “Of course I trust you. I love you.”

  * * *

  Marianna heard Lars talking as she slowly woke. She couldn’t make out all of his words, but she did hear him say, “Roger that, I’ll be there.”

  She sat up slowly at the edge of the bed. Every muscle was sore, but it was a deep, feel-good sore as she dragged herself to the front room.

  “Morning, sweetheart.” He smiled and kissed her. “I’ve got something I need to take care of PDQ. Do you want to stay here until I get back, or do you want me to take you home?”

  “I’ll wait, if you want me to.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest.

  “Awesome, I’ll call when I’m on my way.”

  Lars held her close for a long moment then disengaged himself. When he released her, the air in the room changed. She felt cold, and it was hard to identify the change in his mood. He’d dressed before she woke, which struck her as odd. Usually, he would chill in sleep pants in front of the TV until she got up. As he left, he pulled a bag out of the front closet. It reminded her of the one Luc used to carry whenever he went out on an extended surveillance.

  Marianna stumbled to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. She switched on the TV, and as she absently flipped through the cable news channels, she thought about Lars. The feeling that something wasn’t right with him nagged her. She stood and walked to the breakfast bar where his mail was lying in a neat pile. Setting down her cup firmly, she reached for the first piece of mail. A small twinge of guilt made her look around. He trusted her by leaving her alone in his place. She considered the flipside and knew she’d have raised holy hell with him if she found out he’d invaded her privacy by searching through her things. She exhaled, picked up her coffee cup, went back to the kitchen, and poured herself another cup.

  Pausing at the stack of mail again, she peeked down at the top envelope. It was from the Department of Defense and looked like a stub of some kind. He’d already opened it, because the edges were torn off and he’d folded it to stack it. She picked it up and opened it. It turned out to be his pay stub. As she read through it, she saw something that gave her pause, Base Pay, BAH, BAS, COLA, Fly Pay, Combat Pay.

  Combat Pay?

  What the hell?

  The pay statement read as if he was still active duty. She checked the date of the statement and saw it covered the previous month and was, in fact, a current statement. She could’ve sworn he’d told her he was retired. They’d even been to the VA a week ago to get him seen for his PTSD. How could he be active duty and spend almost three months out of uniform working at Mac’s club?

  Absently, she set it down and tried to piece together what she’d just read. Her phone rang in the next room, startling her, and she turned around to look toward the coffee table where it lay. She just knew it was Lars, and somehow he knew. Which was fine, because she had a few questions for him. When she picked up her phone, she blinked when she saw the name.

  “Joaquin?”

  “Marie, I don’t have much time. I’m in Tampa. Can you meet me?”

  She hesitated in mute surprise; this was turning into a very interesting day indeed, “Y-yes, what’s going on?”

  “You didn’t get this from me, but your girl is in Tampa. An ICE buddy of mine told me something big is going down with her today.”

  Everything in the world vanished into background as her mind honed in on Joaquin’s voice. The nerve endings in her body tingled with awareness as adrenaline raced through her veins.

  “Where? When?”

  “South Harbor, Sinaloa Imports, as soon as you can.”

  12

  Joaquin disconnected the call and looked up. He knew this wouldn’t be the ending he had in mind, but at the end of the day, it would be closure. He was setting up a friend, a close friend, to further his career and grab the limelight. The temptation he’d been offered was too much to resist. He was having second thoughts about what he’d just done. As if reading his mind, the man in front of him spoke,

  “Well?”

  “She’s on her way.”

  “Good, it’ll ensure Ms. Montez arrives in a timely fashion.”

  “I don’t fucking like this, Jones. Not one fucking bit.”

  The huge metal door swung open with a protesting groan. Both men sitting in the sparse warehouse space looked toward the outline of a man walking toward them.

  “Ah! Excellent! Everyone’s here”—Jones turned and winked at Joaquin—“except the bait for our trap.”

  “She’s not bait, motherfucker, and if anything happens to her, I’m taking it out of your ass!”

  “What’s the plan?” the stranger asked as he set a duffle bag on the table.

  “You’ll wait here. Find a spot, start your watch, and as soon as she shows… well, you know the rest.”

  The stranger nodded as he unzipped his bag and pulled a black tactical vest. He pulled off the civilian shirt he had on to reveal a black dri-fit shirt then stripped out of his jeans and pulled black tactical pants and combat boots out of his bag. He dressed quickly then systematically folded his discarded clothes and put them inside the bag. Joaquin watched in amazement when the man pulled the weapons out of the duffle he’d just put his clothes into: a scope, a pistol, and what was certainly a military grade sniper rifle that he checked carefully.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” Joaquin’s mouth went dry as he quickly pieced together the scene unfolding in front of him. He didn’t need to ask, he knew. This was execution of a covert kill order, and he’d just put Marianna between a spook hitman and the dangerous criminal.

  The stranger looked up at him, and then toward Jones. “You don’t have a need to know Agent Garza,” Jones responded. “Your part of the mission is almost completed, and I will most certainly keep my end of the deal if it all goes according to plan.”

  “You didn’t tell me this was a kill order! What the fuck is wrong with you, Jones! Marianna will be in the middle of this whole thing! She could get killed!”

  The stranger stopped and looked at Jones then at Joaquin. His blue-eyes hard as steel and just as cold. “What did you just say?”

  “Fuck you!” Joaquin spat.

  The man was quicker than he looked. Before Joaquin knew it, the stranger had him pinned to the table face down and one of the pistols he’d pulled out of his bag was pressed to Joaquin’s head,

  “Th
e name. What was that name?”

  “Stand down!” Jones said loudly.

  The stranger ignored Jones’ order. “The name,” he demanded.

  “Marianna,” Joaquin groaned through clenched teeth. The stranger released him and helped him stand upright. “Marianna Banta, a reporter the Black Widow wants dead.”

  “You didn’t say anything about civilians,” the man said to Jones.

  “Insurance. To make sure she shows up. Did you get the other two?” The stranger gave a curt nod. “If you don’t want a civilian hurt, make sure you don’t fuck this up.”

  Something struck Joaquin as odd when the stranger took a seat and his shoulders slumped. Jones turned away for a phone call, and Joaquin noticed the stranger carefully looking around the large space and knew he was working out, with mathematical precision, his kill zone. Interestingly enough, the stranger wasn’t looking up, like a sniper, he was looking around. This fucker was planning something, but Joaquin bit off his questions. By the stranger’s reaction, he didn’t like this anymore then Joaquin did.

  “Garza, let’s roll! She’s on her way!”

  Before he could leave, the stranger grabbed his arm. “Tell her to give Mac a message before she comes.”

  “Who?”

  “Do exactly like I tell you, and she’ll make it through this alive.”

  “Tell her to say to Mac, Val and red wing.” They stared at each other for a moment. “Exactly like that, understood?”

  Joaquin had considered telling this scary asshole to fuck off, but there was something almost desperate about the message.