by BJ Wane
Miles stepped into the shower that was only enclosed with a half-wall, but big enough to keep the spray from splashing outside the cubicle. Bracing his hands on the wall, he bent his head and let the pounding water pelt his shoulders and back with heat as he thought of how his friends would rib him if they knew of his obsession with Hope. If any of them had met in high school, odds were they never would have bonded the way they had at the arduous summer camp the courts sent him to when he’d been a fifteen-year-old gang runner. They each hailed from different parts of Florida, coping with their troubled home lives in self-destructive ways that landed each of them with few choices by the time they had stood before a juvenile judge.
They fought then they bonded, and they’d been family ever since. Other than Ed, the guys were the only people in Miles’ life he cared deeply for now, would do anything for. Just lately, that also included Zach’s girl, Sandie; Dax’s new sub, Krista; and his best friend Jackson’s recent commitment to Julie. Yeah, there would be no living it down if even one of them discovered he’d been keeping a late-night vigil on Hope’s Crossing just to ensure no one lurked about the place intent on causing Hope, or anyone else in the shelter, harm.
Crap. Thinking of his friends reminded Miles that Jackson would be making the forty-minute trip from his animal rescue and veterinary clinic into Miami today and they were meeting up for lunch. The gym was closed on Mondays, but he spent the day catching up on paperwork and accounting. If he didn’t get his ass in gear, he’d be at the books late tonight instead of watching out for Hope, and that just wouldn’t do.
“You look like you had a rough night.” Jackson slid his six-foot-four frame onto the empty stool next to Miles and signaled to the waitress at the end of the bar. “And you’re the only one who didn’t make it to Saturday’s play party. What gives, bro?”
“Hello to you too.” Miles scowled at his friend. He valued the close bond he’d developed and nurtured with all his friends the past twenty-three years, but more often than not, resented the intimacy their shared knowledge of each of their pasts lent them. Speaking over the loud music, they gave the waitress their orders before he replied, “I gave Ed the night off Saturday. He works too hard.”
“Maybe that’s what keeps him going.” Jackson picked up his soft drink and downed half before coming up for air. “Ah, much better. You’d think it was still summer out there.” He nodded toward a window and the bright, sunny afternoon.
“You can dispense with the weather chitchat now. How’d Julie do the other night?” Miles still couldn’t wrap his head around Jackson’s recent commitment to the woman he’d befriended when they were just kids living next door to each other. Ex-model, Julie Martin, gave up her career after a terrorizing incident, and Miles had to admit she fit in nicely with their group.
“Good.” Jackson drew his brows together in a frown. “She’s starting to like it a little too much when I invite someone else to touch her along with me, though.”
An image of Hope bound on a spanking bench, or maybe against one of the tall poles in the playroom on their BDSM decked out yacht, with an added pair of hands tormenting her lily-white body, brought about that damnable twitch of his cock again. A hand job would never be enough to slake his growing hunger for her.
“Smitten, just like Zach and Dax. I’m glad I’m not as weak-kneed as you three.” Miles snorted in feigned derision, his only defense against his escalating preoccupation.
“Nah, not you. You just fell like a ton of bricks for Hope Wallace the moment you set eyes on her,” Jackson drawled with sarcastic humor.
The waitress set their plates in front of them, the Rueben Monday special piled high with corned beef and sauerkraut. Miles dug in and took several bites before addressing Jackson’s correct assumption. “I don’t deny I want to delve beneath those loose clothes she thinks hide her figure, and that I’m concerned for her safety since she spends her days welcoming strangers into her building. Doesn’t mean I’m aiming for a white picket fence.”
Jackson heaved a suffering sigh, but his dark blue eyes held nothing but warmth. “You don’t have to be searching for it to just show up. Trust me, I know.”
Miles let go with a rare grin and slapped him on the back. “You’re a lucky son-of-a-bitch, and you know it.”
“Yeah, I am, and I do. Speaking of Julie, I’m trying to talk her into enrolling in your women’s self-defense class. When will the next one be starting up?”
“Next week, and there’s room for several more. I’d rather have too many and arrange the schedule to fit in two classes than see a low turn-out.”
Much to Ed’s chagrin, one of the first changes Miles had made to the gym’s list of martial arts classes had been to add a class just for women to learn how to defend themselves if ever caught in a sticky or dangerous situation. There was a time and place to use the polite fighting of Karate, Taekwondo or Jujutsu, and times when the dirty street fighting Miles had honed when he’d run with a gang came in handy.
“Good. I know Zach’s trying to get Sandie to sign up, so maybe we’ll get you a few more,” Jackson replied.
Miles dropped some bills on the counter for a generous tip and stood. “And you two call yourselves Doms,” he said with a shake of his head. “Just tell them how it’ll be and if they give you attitude, put ’em over your knee.”
Jackson’s smile split his tanned face. “That works fine when playing, but you know as well as we do that unless we’re in a twenty-four/seven, Dom/sub relationship like Dax and Krista, that doesn’t cut it.”
They wound their way through the sports bar toward the entrance as Miles suggested, “Then get Dax on board and they’ll follow Krista’s example. They’ve all become tight in the past few weeks.” He would hate for any of his friends’ women to be hurt because they were unable to defend themselves. And if Sandie joined a class, odds were Hope would too, and he’d sleep much better at night knowing she’d mastered the moves to extricate herself from a bad situation. “Where’d you park?”
Jackson pointed up the street. “About a block. That’s a good idea. I’ll give Dax a call and get back to you.”
When Miles spotted Jackson’s truck almost smack dab in front of the double glass doors to Hope’s Crossing, he turned a dark scowl on him. “Did you park there on purpose?”
“No. I don’t need to draw you to her doors. You forget, I’m the one who knows where you spend an hour or two late at night.” Jackson placed his hand on the driver’s side door handle as he looked over at the shelter. His jaw tightened, drawing Miles’ gaze that way also just as Jackson said, “But maybe it’s a good thing this was the only empty spot at the time.”
“What the hell is that about?” Miles growled.
“Damn it, Miles, hold up.”
Ignoring Jackson, Miles flung open the glass door into the shelter and stormed across the reception area.
With the wall at her back, Hope Wallace tried to tamp down her fear while refusing to back down from the aggressive crowding by this irate ex-boyfriend of a shelter guest. His belligerence wasn’t anything she hadn’t been subjected to before, but her heart never failed to lodge in her throat when she stood face to face with a large, angry man intent on causing trouble, and her harm.
“Back off, Davidson, before I have you arrested for violating your restraining order,” she demanded, wishing her voice hadn’t emerged as a trembling whisper instead of the controlled strength she’d been striving for. Traci, her receptionist, already called the cops, who were always quick to respond to a 911 from the shelter.
Davidson got in her face and snapped, “You and what army, bitch?”
“No army, just me. Back off, like the lady said.”
Hope saw Miles’ hand clamp down on Davidson’s shoulder before she noticed his presence or heard his deep voice, the one that never failed to send a shiver of awareness dancing down her spine. Even in the midst of a nasty scene, her body responded to his black eyes drilling her with an intent, probing look that
Davidson spun around, whether with help from Miles’ grip or all on his own, she couldn’t tell. “Mind your own fucking business,” he sneered. “This is between me and my old lady.”
“Not anymore.” Sidling around Davidson, Hope glared at Miles before placing herself between him and her unwelcome guest. She couldn’t afford any more trouble. Ignoring the low growl rumbling from Miles’ throat, and the way her nipples pulsed in response, she placed her hands on her hips. Sirens grew louder as a police car pulled up out front, lending her even more bravado to get in this man’s face, just to see how he liked it. “She’s done with you. Get used to it and stay away from her, and my place.”
Two cops rushed inside and wasted no time hauling him off in handcuffs. Hope breathed a sigh of relief, her heart rate slowing down until she faced Miles’ wrath. Funny how his anger induced a whole different response than the instant fear Davidson’s had. The threat he posed wasn’t one of physical harm, but she had other reasons for keeping her distance from him.
“What were you thinking, just standing there?” Miles demanded. “A swift knee to his balls would’ve given you ample time to get away from him.”
“Violence is not always the answer, Mr. Cavenaugh, as several of the now homeless people here can tell you. I knew the police were on their way.” She turned to Jackson, who stood inside the door with his arms crossed and an amused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Is Julie with you?”
Jackson shook his head with a derisive sigh. “No. She’s visiting her parents today.”
Hope could tell by the way his eyes darkened he didn’t like something about Julie’s family visit. “Thank you, both of you,” she said, including Miles in her gratitude even though he still stood in the middle of the small entry glowering at her. “I really do appreciate you stepping in but, as you can see, the situation has been defused.”
“There wouldn’t be a situation if you had decent security.” Miles lifted her hand and slapped another one of his cards into her palm even though he knew she still had the first one he gave her. “I have a women’s defense class starting this week. Julie will be in it, and probably Sandie. You need to be also.” He turned his ebony gaze on Traci, who still sat behind the receptionist’s counter, her wide eyes riveted on him. “You too.”
Shaking her head at his well-meaning high-handedness, Hope watched him stomp out, followed by Jackson who at least lifted his hand in a friendly farewell gesture. She’d been introduced to both men through Sandie Bowlin when she’d been a guest at the shelter several months ago, but Hope couldn’t say she knew much about the men who were close acquaintances of Sandie’s new guy, Zachary.
“Wow. That man was as intense as the last time he was here. You could do worse, boss.” Traci just grinned when Hope frowned at her.
“I’m not ‘doing’ anyone.”
The younger girl’s smile widened but all she said was, “Are we going to take his class? It might be a good idea.”
Hope couldn’t argue they would both benefit from learning how to defend themselves better, but if there was something she did know about Miles and his friends, it was that they were all very dominant and into a sexual lifestyle she’d sworn never to look into again. Taking his class, putting herself in close contact with the first man who stirred cravings she thought she’d buried long ago, would not be a good idea. Not if she wanted to keep her distance from a temptation that had already cost her nearly everything.
“I know it would, Traci. I’ll think about it, but even if I don’t, I want you to. Let me check the budget to see if I can afford to pay the fee. It’d only be fair, since you’d be taking it due to the risks of your job.”
Traci shook her head, but Hope cut off her refusal before she could utter it. “That part is non-negotiable.” The twenty-year-old college student only worked part-time, and never at night. Hope welcomed a retired army veteran every evening at 5:00 p.m. who stayed until 8:00 a.m., and all he asked for was a free meal and bed for the night in return for keeping his eye on the place. The old department store she’d worked hard to convert into a shelter was on a busy downtown Miami street and close to a police precinct for quick interference if needed. Her receptionist, and she, were relatively safe, but one could never be too careful or too prepared for trouble.
“We’ll talk about it later. I need to get back to work, starting with writing up a report on Davidson for the police.” She padded down the short hall to her small office, trying to put Miles’ dark, scarred face out of her mind, something she had been unsuccessful at for the last few months.
Chapter 2
Hope wanted that night to be different, wished she would fall asleep and not be plagued with dreams about the one night, and incident, that had led to a surprising revelation before it ended up costing her everything. But, as happened every time she’d been subjected to Miles Cavenaugh’s overbearing presence, the dominance stamped on his hard face and the banked heat in those obsidian eyes rekindled embers she could have sworn she’d doused six years ago. Not just put out but buried so deep they couldn’t be dug up. As sleep rose to claim her, she found herself unsuccessful in fighting off an explicit recounting of the first dominant man to take an interest in her.
Of the numerous dares Hope and her friends had initiated during prep school then all through college, this had to be the most audacious one she’d accepted to date. She’d been on board with celebrating her bachelorette party as a guest in one of Atlanta’s BDSM clubs, welcomed to spend an hour observing the scenes and lifestyle she’d only read about. But, wow, reading, imagining or even watching porn couldn’t come close to witnessing the sheer eroticism and pleasure gained from sexual submission.
Looking up at the tall Dom standing before her, the wicked gleam in his eyes and taunting curve to his mouth set her pulse to fluttering. She flicked her three friends an annoyed glance for putting her in the position of accepting or turning down this stranger’s offer to perk up her night by testing to see if the spanking she’d just witnessed a young woman getting was as hot and exciting as her body’s response thought it might be.
“I get you’re engaged,” he said, his tone sympathetic to part of her dilemma. “But, if you’re interested in testing the waters of submission, I promise I’ll stick to light taps over your skirt, just give you a taste of what obviously interested you a few minutes ago, judging by the expression on your pretty face.”
Neither the loud music pumped around the cavernous room nor the steady repetition of slapping flesh and exalted cries that could either be from pain or pleasure, drowned out the loud pounding of her heart. Hope wasn’t sure whether she craved to do this because she never could back down from a dare or because her buttocks were still clenched in response to watching another woman’s butt bared and reddened over the hard thighs of her Dom. Her sheath was still damp from picturing herself in the woman’s position, another hint she might be receptive to a little light, erotic pain.
“You’re thinking too hard. You’ve seen enough tonight to know we practice safe, sane and consensual scenes and red means stop.” He took her hand, his tight grip and take-charge manner sending a thrill through Hope as he sat on a small sofa and tugged her over his lap. “There. Not so bad, is it?”
The humor lacing his voice accompanied the light pat on her butt, the small, impersonal touch drawing a shiver down her curved spine. “No,” she admitted in a low voice, the floor swimming before her eyes as the blood rushed to her dangling face. She thought of Craig, and what her straight-laced fiancé would do if he could see the embarrassing position she was in. She almost giggled at the image that popped into her head. “Oh!” The swat caught her off guard, erased Craig’s image and replaced it with this man’s handsome, strict face and piercing blue eyes staring down at her upraised butt. Three more spanks generated enough warmth and erotic tingles to leave her aching for more, a harder, more intimate touch.
“What do you think, Hope? Are you brave enough to take this a step further?” He caressed her buttocks over the places he’d smacked, and she’d never imagined how pleasurable ass play could be, as her fiancé never bothered with that part of her body. Then she felt his fingers running up and down her bare thigh, slipping just under her knee-length skirt, and her immediate reaction to the skin-on-skin contact nearly sent her toppling off his lap.
“C’mon, Hope. You know you want to,” Jani taunted from where she and Sue and Deb sat across from her.
“Dare ya!” Sue snickered.
Hope thought of her future, more importantly the ‘less than thrilling’ sex life she shared with Craig. If this was her one opportunity to take a walk on the wild side, she’d be foolish to pass it up. Besides, she really wanted to know if the first small spark of pleasure she’d ever experienced would be even more pronounced without her thin skirt protecting her vulnerable backside.
Turning her flaming face upward, she said, “Okay,” then quickly hid behind the fall of her hair again and pressed her hands harder against the floor as his fingers inched up her skirt.
“Good girl.”
His praise warmed her as much as the tantalizing brush of air over her panty-clad buttocks when he draped her skirt over her back. The thin silk proved to be no buffer against the feel of his hand connecting with her cheeks. These slaps were a touch harder, the slight discomfort seeping into her sensitive skin set flame to her growing arousal. Her sheath throbbed along with her buttocks, the sensation pleasant and frustrating at the same time.
“You have a lovely ass, girl. Nice and round, soft and bouncy.” A sharp swat punctuated that last word and Hope gasped at the blistering heat the pain left behind. After just five spanks, her buttocks burned, and deep in her core, she pulsed with the hint at something new, something exciting.
-->
