Dom Wars: Round Five

by Lucian Bane

  "How to dominate whatever the fuck assignment we have, Steve."

  "Which happens to be…selling dildos to toy stores."

  Steve's suicidal words ushered in a scary span of silence.

  "As stupid as that is…" the preacher drawled, "that's the assignment all of you will dominate. Three businesses. Three intelligent people, I pray. Three wins. Like a holy fucking trinity."

  Steve gave a deplorable huff before muttering under his breath, "Selling dildos."

  I looked at Steve, floored with his desire to die.

  "I'm not asking you to use them, Steve." But the preacher's tone said he could and would if he didn't correct his attitude.

  Steve read the threat loud and clear. "True. Very true."

  "What's your plan, Bane?" The preacher flicked a piece of whittled wood at the fire before angling his dark gaze at me. He obviously expected me to have one. Come up with one.

  Ideas crept in like slow dawning light in a nightmare. "Well, for starters, we'd need to know all we can about the businesses. Their employers and employees, current sales and marketing strategies, any and all pros and cons we can use for leverage." I rubbed my hands slowly along my legs, ideas gaining momentum. "We can find all that online."

  He whittled again. "You see any online around here Bane?"

  "No, but we could… make a run into town and access internet services at a public facility."

  "Like a hotel!" Steve gave a bright idea clap of his hands.

  Preacher eyed me directly as though trying to read my mind. I returned his stare with a cool one, mentally locking all doors around my thoughts, just in case he did have some crazy ability. He gave a slow grin. "We'll have dinner and finish settling in, then head into town. You'll do your recon and we'll be back tonight where you'll put together a comprehensive plan and we'll begin executing it in the morning. Glad you're up for the hike."

  Hike? Fuck, we didn't have a ride. I tried to remember how long we'd driven from the last little town before we reached the campground. Long enough it would take hours to walk, no doubt. And now that I'd opened my mouth, the insane Preacher certainly wouldn't let me back out of it.

  "Sounds like a good plan." Steve was undeterred. As far as he was concerned, anywhere but here was the fairgrounds, with or without wheels.

  There was nothing else to say at that point, nothing I could think to say, wanted to say. I just wanted to go in the tent and hold Tara. Make love to her. Think about all this other shit later. And eat. I was fucking starving for that rabbit sizzling on the fire.

  We ate "dinner" after the preacher said his sermon-on-the-mount-long grace with Steve mmhmming and amening with every-fucking-word. I mean how much thanks can you give in one sitting? Weren't there rules to that? Limits? Felt like testing God's divine patience if you asked me. Did he really think God needed or wanted all that shit? Was sitting on his throne with an audience of angels, collecting those precious words in vials of holy fire to set on a shelf of awe and glory? It was like being stoned to death slowly. With words.

  The only satisfaction I derived was being able to hold Tara's hand through it. I made love to her palm with my thumb, silently praying alongside the preacher that he'd hurry the fuck up so we could eat and I could have Tara.

  Finally, miraculously, that time came and wild rabbit filled my mouth to the brim. The meat was tender on the inside once I managed to gnaw through the outer layer. My jaws ached by the time I finished my third bite, but otherwise, it was pretty fucking tasty. And that pot of freeze dried vegetables and rice had turned into a thick savory stew.

  There was something about eating outdoors for me, like survival instincts kicked in and had me devouring every morsel like it might be my last. I became aware of Tara's eyes on me and looked at her, finding her gaze narrowed in concern. I leaned and kissed her on the nose to assure her I was fine, then downed my drink in loud gulps.

  As soon as Tara finished I stood and drew her up. "I'm taking Tara for a walk to the stream. Everything okay here?"

  The preacher sucked loudly on a bone and grinned without looking at me. "Everything is dandy. Don't get lost. Back here in thirty minutes. I wouldn't want to have to hunt you down, tie you up, and haul your ass back to camp where you'll spend the entire night in the elements without bug repellent."

  I stared at him, fully aware he was outlining the discipline should we try to escape. "I'm not running," I said, matter-of-factly. Not now. Not yet.

  "Good."

  Steve stood. "Guess I'll…"

  "Clean the dishes," the preacher helped in an ominous tone.

  "Yeah. Clean the dishes."

  "Maybe you can sing us a song when we get back?" Tara's soft words came with a quick rub along his upper arm as she nodded at him.

  Steve nodded back, looking suddenly grief-stricken. "But…I thought we were going into town?"

  "Yes, we are," I said. "So…get those dishes done."

  He grinned, back to thrilled. "Yes sir." He even gave a salute.

  I led Tara into the woods, angling toward the noise of the stream. I knew I was going too fast, practically dragging her, but I couldn't force myself to slow down. As soon as I was sure we were way out of earshot, I turned and caught her in my embrace, lifting her off the ground in a tight hug. She let out a huge gasp and wrapped her legs around my hips and her arms around my neck, pulling my hair, her breaths shuddering hard with her own need. I let her hold on to me and held her face, diving on her mouth, tasting as fast and as much as I could.

  "I need you," she gasped around my desperate feasting.

  "Fuck, me too."

  "Where… where can we…" she fought to speak while I made passionate love to her mouth. "…do it."

  I reluctantly set her down and half ran toward that stream. The ground sloped steeply downward, strewn with small boulders waiting to break an unwary ankle, and forced us to slow a little. We finally reached a more level area, and the trees thinned to allow us a glimpse of a broad creek tumbling over rocks and boulders on its way to lower ground. We drew closer and I made out a deeper, still pool a few yards downstream, even as the water churned almost angrily in front of us.

  Pausing to drag in breath, I looked around for some form of privacy while she ripped her clothes off. When she stood before me nude, I gasped. The sight of her stole every bit of sense from me. "Jesus, fuck." I shook my head, my eyes devouring her like I hadn't seen her only a week ago. She slowly drew her arms over her breasts and I shot my gaze to hers, walking to her. "How can you be so fucking beautiful? I don't get it, it's…" I scanned her body, dumbfounded. "It's not fair."

  "Fair?"

  I lowered her arms and stared at her breasts in torment. "Your tits fucking drive me nuts. My mouth waters when I see these perfect fucking nipples." I slid my fingers across the rigid peaks. "And then you make that fucking sound. Love, do you know what you do to me? What you mean to me? I'm fucking crazy for you." I barely got the words out of my mouth before her breast filled it. I sucked and licked like a crazy man, plunging my middle finger deep inside her, growling on her, nipping the tip. "So fucking wet." I sucked her essence off my finger and kissed her while fighting to get my pants off.

  She fought her way down to her knees and took my cock into her mouth, moaning in relieved joy. I choked on the pleasure, tangling my fingers in her hair, holding on tight as she sucked me deep and fast, her nails digging in my ass to keep me from escaping.

  She sucked me with ruthless passion and I growled and tightened my hold on her hair and jerked her head back when my orgasm nearly overtook me.

  She had a one track mind—make me orgasm in six seconds or less, it seemed. Still on her knees, she pulled my arm, her legs against my shins. I recognized the take-down maneuver even as I fell forward right between her open thighs. Her hand was on my cock and I was sliding inside her as our mouths met in crazy hunger.

  "Fuck me, fuck me!" She pulled at my hips, her nails biting, her thighs gripping hard.

  I held the fro
nt of her neck with one hand and a handful of her hair with the other and slammed in and out of her until her cries filled my mouth. She yanked at my hair, holding me to her own passionate kiss. Her hunger for me was like kryptonite to my body and all it could do was scramble to answer it. I fought the power that ripped through me, reckless and dominant and brutal, sucking the control right from my muscles. I bit down on her shoulder with its hunger to consume, growling and pounding toward the center of that secret universe.

  With a roar, I burst through the doorway and dove into her, a torpedo of fire, of love, of so much joy, so much fucking awe. Our orgasm echoed in the woods around us and we writhed in the ecstasy on the earthen floor. It was my first time doing it in the woods like that and I prayed no passers-by were out there.

  Panting in the aftermath, I laid half on her, blown the fuck away. How was it possible that I could be allowed something this amazing? As her, as us. God-fucking-damn! And if she knew, God if she knew how much I loved her, she'd have to be terrified, maybe she'd run from me. This love was raw, lurid, insanity with a huge ass smile, irreversible, and un-fucking-believable.

  Worried we'd been away too long, I reluctantly helped Tara back into her clothes when I wanted nothing more than to continue making love with her. Even though the Preacher had said I would take any punishment she or Steve earned, I wasn't willing to test it. I didn't trust the bastard as far as I could throw him and I was sure I couldn't throw him an inch. He was just twisted enough to say something like that only to turn it around when the time came for discipline with a piece of scripture to go along with it.

  Chapter Six

  Leading her back the way we'd come, only far slower, I kept her close to my side. "Tell me everything that happened while we were apart?" Craving more closeness with her, I instinctively kept my voice low and intimate.

  Smiling up at me, she wrinkled her nose a little and shook her head. "I'd rather talk about something more interesting. Like…how are we going to manage more than a few stolen minutes of privacy? Because I want to make love to you. I want to take my time and not worry about bugs or sharp sticks or making too much noise."

  The words sent accompanying images flashing through my mind and my pulse pounding through my dick again. "That is pretty interesting. You have any ideas?" The chuckle refused to be contained. "That Preacher isn't going to be agreeable to much of anything I come up with. Don't think he likes me all that much."

  Laughter erupted from her and she clutched at my arm to keep her balance. "That's the understatement of the year. I think he believes you're possessed or something, and I'm just an unfortunate victim." She continued laughing, making her voice deep in an attempt to mimic the Preacher's order to return quickly. "His wife is nice, though. I like her. She's not at all what I expected."

  "And we may need to use that huge surprise if things get nuts." I continued picking my way with her back to camp. "We could gather a lot of firewood, I guess, but that doesn't eliminate the bugs and sharp sticks. If we have to stay here the entire time I don't see us being likely to get much privacy in any sort of comfortable place."

  She bit her lower lip in a shy grin. "We'll have to learn to be quiet if all we have is our tent."

  I couldn't hold back my laughter. "This I'd like to see. But fuck, not really, I love the noise you make."

  The solid brown of the tents flickered through the trees, signaling the camp's nearness. Not wanting to end the precious moments with her, I drew her to a stop and took her in my arms. "I love you, Tara Reese." Bending to her lips, I focused every ounce of my kissing experience on making that declaration crystal clear. I needed her to know. Know I meant forever. Know I would do whatever it took to keep her safe. Know she meant more than life to me.

  Something large crashed through the underbrush, startling us out of the kiss though I refused to relinquish my hold on Tara. It came straight toward us, grunting and stomping.

  Shielding her with my body, I faced the threat, heart pounding, ready.

  "Lucian? Miss Tara?" Steve's gaspy whisper was filled with alarm. "Are you out here?" He groaned. "Oh, Lands O' Mercy, I'm lost. Lost in this wretched jungle." More crashing and stomping.

  My laughter threatened at realizing it was Steve. Against my back, Tara must've found it just as funny, her body quaking with silent giggles.

  Steve paused to call for us again, in clear view this time. I waved at him and his eyes picked up the movement and he jerked to us. A second later, a huge grin lit his face and he stampeded toward us. "Thank you, Merciful Heavens!" He paused and stared at us, still grinning. "You're late, the preacher's madder than a bobtail cat and sent me to look for you." Like that was the stupidest thing ever.

  I looked at my watch. "By five minutes. We're fine." I led Tara by the hand quickly the rest of the way with Steve whispering how fine it wasn't, how the preacher was pacing and pissed.

  We left what felt like the relative safety of the brush cover and walked into camp. The first thing I spotted was the Hummer sitting in the spot it had vacated earlier. What the hell?

  The preacher glared at us. "Get in." His order said very clearly he would tolerate no questions. "You're late." Certain punishment threatened in his tone. But later.

  Why had the driver come back? I was dying to ask, but stayed quiet. No one said a word as we all complied with the Preacher's order. Had we broken some rule besides not coming back at the exact moment he'd ordered? He sure acted like it.

  "Steve, you have what you need?" The Preacher's glare made me pray Steve had whatever he was supposed to. There'd be hell to pay if he didn't.

  "Yes, sir." Steve patted the bag on his shoulder and I assumed he meant a laptop. Hopefully.

  We rode the hour into town under a slab of silence. It wasn't easy to avoid the Preacher's gaze, since he had it locked onto me and glinting with the promise of punishment. I became curiously aware that the Preacher had hung an unspoken death penalty in the air for anybody who dared to speak without permission. Another round of annoying fascination hit me about him. I was getting far too much of that with him. I needed to keep my guard up extra high. There were secrets still. I could feel them like an oppressive hand on me. I'd figure it out.

  We finally made it to a McDonalds. "Oh glorious, a milkshake would be fabulous," Steve gasped, smiling.

  "We're not here to eat, Steve," the Preacher said. "Get busy. You've got thirty minutes."

  Steve appeared aghast for a few seconds before recovering and digging his laptop out and opening it up. He handed me a pad of paper and a pen without looking and began his search. "First order of business," he quipped in his droid tone. "The toy store." Clattering ensued for several more seconds before he popped the enter key with an index finger. "Notes Lucian."

  Steve read off information and I scribbled it down. "Poppy's Toy Emporium. Small, privately owned chain, six stores throughout the region. Started in 1956 by Roy Chase, AKA Poppy. He died in '74 and left the two stores to his son, John. By 1980 the business was in serious trouble, but John's wife, Kate, started helping out and she managed to turn it around. John and Kate retired in 2002, leaving their twin daughters to operate the business. Melissa and Alissa have been very successful with vintage and high end toys and collectibles."

  "So, you'll be selling to the twins." The Preacher's contribution surprised me a little. Did he know more about these assignments than he'd let on?

  I nodded and put my suspicion away for the moment. "What do we know about them?"

  Steve's fingers flew over the keyboard again for a moment, then he read from the screen. "They're thirty-six years old, unmarried and don't seem interested in finding anyone. Ummmm…" he mumbled over words for a bit. "Ah, Melissa had a failed romance in her twenties it says here. Oh," he breathed, sounding sad, "she caught him cheating with one of her employees. Huge scandal. Tsk tsk. Since then, neither of them have even dated. Aww, precious hearts, and yet they're still good people, says here they're heavily involved in children's charities and not much
else." He turned the computer to reveal a photo of two women standing side by side.

  I looked closer. Huh. They were classic beauties, but wore unflattering hair styles and dowdy, poorly fitting clothes. "Why are they deliberately making themselves look unattractive?"

  The Preacher leaned in for a closer look, then nodded. "Why, indeed?"

  "Probably to protect themselves." Tara said it like it was the most obvious thing. "It's a common defense after being hurt, to prevent anything like that from happening again. Apparently their looks have been a direct avenue for risk that led to grief. Add wanting to be taken seriously in the business world and you end up with…that." She flicked her finger at the strange pair.

  The Preacher inclined his head. "Good points."

  "And perhaps they were never taught the fundamentals of presenting themselves attractively." Becca's soft words held a note of something. Maybe experience?

  "Oh…" Tara straightened and angled her head. "I didn't think of that. Oddly enough, in America, many girls are not taught about hair and make-up and clothes, maybe because it's assumed they'll just pick it up in the culture around them. But it's not the case." Like that was her own experience.

  The Preacher glanced at his watch. "Move on. What's the next business?"

  Steve clicked on several somethings, then the keyboard chattered again. "The Saint Agnes Women's Center." He scanned the page, clicked and scanned again with incoherent mumblings, sounding like one of those religious nuts speaking in tongues of angels, as I'd heard it called. He drew a deliberate breath. "It's an offshoot of Saint Agnes Hospital. A group of doctors keep offices in the Women's Center and have privileges at the hospital. Looks like they do everything from cosmetic surgery to delivering babies." His cheeks reddened suddenly. "Oh, Lord, have mercy on my soul." He turned the computer to us and bowed his head to the right, revealing an intimate image of a mother about to deliver her baby.

  I felt his discomfort, and judging by the way the Preacher unceremoniously turned the screen back to face Steve, he did too. "Next."