Diary of a Submissive (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 4)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  “I just never imagined losing him was going to hurt this bad.”

  I tilt my head. “You aren’t letting him go. We’re shifting the dynamic. Follow me, baby, and I will get you everything your heart desires, including a relationship with Sal.”

  “… Even if I sleep in your bed?”

  “Yes,” I promise. “Sal gave his blessing.”

  She pauses a moment in quiet reflection. I can see her wheels spinning, trying to determine if she can truly let go with me. Suddenly, she announces, “Where you differ is hip action.”

  “I know this, too, that bastard can fucking move.”

  “You’re going to say this is crazy,” she confides. “But, it’s almost easier for me to take you in my ass because I don’t have to think about it.”

  “I can’t knock up your ass, Boo.” She laughs, and so do I. “Iris, I am in love with you. Sal is still in love with you too. But you two…you don’t work...”

  “We haven’t ever worked. We’re too similar. He’s too high-strung and emotional. And so am I. Does he want your sister?”

  “You need an honest answer?” I ask. “Because we were in this tub a week ago having this conversation.”

  “You and him?”

  “Yes,” I confide. “He just wants to be for a while. He needs to heal and get his shit together. If he wants to mess with Skeeter or Rowan or some other girl, that’s okay. He isn’t messing with anyone but me.”

  “What if he only messed with you?”

  “That would be okay, too,” I say. “If you’re asking if he is gay, I don’t think so. He lives for T&A. He’s just a guy. But more than anything else in the world, he wants you and me happy.”

  Her expression shifts to guilt. “I may have done something bad.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I may have accidentally told Skeeter if she wanted to get on the Lotus jet and go to Japan that she could. She promised to think about it.”

  Nothing can hide my shock. “Uh…”

  “I am so sorry.”

  “No, no,” I caution. “I’m not worried about Sal and Skeeter. I’m amazed you gave her to him like that…

  “He’s not the only one capable of handing over a present,” she says. “Skeeter represents freedom for Sal. A freedom he has never had. Let him play. She’s strong-willed enough to take his blows. I spent over half a day with her yesterday.”

  “You what?”

  “Hair…lashes…salads…talking…rebuilding…Sal wasn’t the only one at fault. As much as he pulls my hair, I grab his nuts and twist,” she admits. “I am seriously trying here, Master.”

  “This says everything about what you want.”

  “I want you, Saint, and Sal blessing this relationship is the ultimate act of a loving Dominant to his submissives.”

  “Holy crap…Iris…”

  “Yeah, I drove sixteen hours trying to figure out what the fuck he was thinking by giving me up. He was loving me more than anyone ever has. It wasn’t pushing me off onto another Master, but realizing what true love and more than and always forever meant. I know Sal and I aren’t done. We’ll never end. I don’t know where we’re going. Or what is going to happen, but I want both of you in my life. I need you and I need Sal. And whoever he ends up with, I am going to need them too. When you ask me to follow you, I already am. And I always will.”

  “Crap,” I mutter, getting emotional. “I didn’t expect you would understand this so soon.”

  “Exhaustion and sixteen hours, baby.” She blinks and the tears fall. I lay my arms on the edge of the tub as her fingers stroke my beard. “This is insane,” she gushes, smiling. “I…love...” I quickly thrust into her pussy and she gasps. “You so much!”

  “You don’t like being in control,” I muster out as her current overwhelms me.

  “Not in the bedroom.” She slowly rides on my dick. My hands drop on her hips to keep her on the track. Closing her eyes, she whispers, “You’re inside of me, Deacon.”

  “Yeah, and you’re on my dick, Iris.”

  She nervously giggles. “How the fuck did we get here?”

  “Infinite everlasting love.” I wrap my arms around her and buck up onto her warmth. “You have no idea how much I’ve spent the past year and a half craving this moment.”

  “God, fuck me!” She sensually moans, leaning back in my arms as the water hits the floor. Her hips rock to meet my thrusts as I stare at all her sparkling wet skin. “Don’t ever stop.”

  “You want me to stay permanently inside of you?”

  With a serious expression, she whispers, “Yes!”

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby.”

  “Wait!” She yells, lifting her hand. “If you knock me up…”

  “I’m going to take care of you and our baby.” I smirk. “I like surprises, though…”

  “So, you’re going to paint the nursery yellow?”

  “Maybe not yellow,” I say, speeding up and watching her face as the water splashes onto the floor. “Iris…shit…”

  “Give me thirty seconds,” she whispers as my breaths intensify.

  “… Is that an exact count?” I ask.

  “Yes!” Keeping her eyes closed, she smirks. “Your dick is so good. You are so good.”

  I hold back as long as I can. “Iris…”

  “Now…do it…now!”

  She tightens around me, and I lose it, thrusting harder and faster until I succumb and release. “Fuck yes, baby!”

  She falls to my chest, and I wrap my arms around her. “We need to do that again.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter. “That was way too fast.”

  “It’s been coming for eighteen months.”

  “No, baby girl, that has been coming for twelve years.”

  68

  Pwned A$$

  His Butterfly

  “Are you sure about this?” I ask as he wraps the scarf around my neck.

  “I am positive,” Deacon says, smiling. “I want to take you for a ride.”

  I lay my hand on his heart. “You did that last night in the tub.”

  A massive grin explodes on his face amidst blushing skin. “I did, but this is important to me.”

  “No cut, though…”

  “No,” he says. “Because it isn’t about the club. It isn’t about what happens with my business. This is about having my girl on the back of my bike.”

  “Sounds very possessive.”

  “It is,” he says, pulling his Indian out of the garage. “You are mine, and I want you clinging to me.” He hands the helmet to me. “Now, get this on your head.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I say, looking at the snow-covered landscape. “This seems like a death trap.”

  “Only because you don’t understand Colorado.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Every road in the entire state is not covered with a blanket of snow,” he informs. “They clear them. This isn’t like Texas where if we get ice and snow, everything goes on lockdown. We live in the snow.”

  “Just don’t call me your old lady.”

  He shoots a glare like I spit on his shoes. Marching back into the garage, he teases, “Oh, you’re gonna be my old lady.”

  “Put a ring on it,” I flirt in return. “We’ll talk.”

  “I’m gonna put a ring around your neck.”

  I excitedly giggle. “Is that a promise?”

  He doesn’t answer. His eyes dart to mine as he grabs his gloves and extends his hand. “Come, beautiful.”

  I straddle onto the seat, preparing to die today. I don’t know how I feel about Colorado. It’s cold, rugged, and wet—sounds like the perfect place for a cowboy or a pair of roughshod, bucking alphas. It is also majestic, inspiring, and beautiful, but I don’t know that I belong here. I like the swelter of the South when the high humidity dampens my clothes, and all I want to do is take them off.

  I understand I spent several years in Japan with cold, wet winters and oppressive summers, but
my expectations are different.

  I am tethered to my home; it isn’t a choice.

  Colorado is a choice Deacon made, and I’m not sure I fully endorse his decision.

  With the stunning views, his house is incredible—stylish, sleek, and clean. And nothing like the old Swamp Shack or The Dollhouse. Everything feels strange and off as I spot a couple of bucks with massive horns. “The hell! Look at those racks!”

  “Yeah, they show up almost daily,” he says, smiling as we prepare to leave. “There is a whole herd who live around the property. We have elk and moose too.”

  He closes the garage, and I notice a path nearby, cut through the trees. “Where does that lead?”

  “We’re breaking ground on another house next week.”

  Curiously, I ask, “Why?”

  “Because Quince belongs to Sal and me.”

  I blink at the surprise. “We will have a neighbor? And his name will be Sal Raniero?”

  “Yeah, but he’ll be up in the Victorian house in Texas too.”

  Whoa.

  I hadn’t thought about this.

  Deacon won’t be without Sal, which means I won’t be without him. And that also means everywhere I go—there he will be. With a hint of snobbery and thinking I have one on them, I inquire, “What about in New Orleans?”

  “We share The Dollhouse, baby girl.”

  He gets on in front of me as I steam. “Are you leaving the F-250 out?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be fine,” he assures. “No one comes up here.”

  Only Sal and…whoever is sucking his dick at the time. The realization brings on a host where dread thrives. I left Sal behind in the safe at Scarlet House. I thought I wanted to move forward without him. I will never be able to do that with Deacon.

  I know there is no choice for him. If I laid down the law to Deacon and said it’s Sal or me…I know who he would choose.

  And so does everyone else.

  I’m going to lose…everything I hold dear.

  We stop at several spots along the way with awe-inspiring mountain vistas and snow-covered peaks. It’s a lot to take in for the girl who just drove sixteen hours, but I’m a good little trooper, and I try and behave in my exhaustion.

  I hold his hand as we walk off the path and gaze at the picture-perfect display. Unfortunately, the scenery cannot compare to the dark gray shadows filling my mind as I genuinely start to imagine a life without Sal.

  In rustic Colorado…

  With the bearded Deacon…

  It’s too much change too soon.

  “Talk to me,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around me. He nuzzles my neck. I glance at the branches of the snowy pine trees, heavy and burdened, reminiscent of my heart.

  “I feel like the three of us grew up together, Deacon.”

  “Because we did,” he contends. “We spent a lot of our twenties together. Our trust and dedication to one another was precious, and some people never attain that deep level of understanding and compassion. We were fluid.”

  “What happened?”

  “Life,” he snickers. “Lack of vigilance. We all dropped our guard of the gate at the same time, and the bad stuff crept in, which quickly escalated to hurt feelings and misunderstandings.”

  “People say it never works,” I argue. “We were all warned.”

  Lighting a cigarette, he snorts. “People say lots of things. It doesn’t mean any of it is right. We’re bound to the box of norms.”

  “And we broke it…”

  “No,” he says, offering a drag to me. “We fucking broke the box. We buckled under the stress, but breaks are good because they bring tremendous growth potential.”

  “Are you still mad?”

  “… At Sal?”

  “All of it,” I whisper, peering at his eyes. “You cannot deny your frustration.”

  “I won’t, but only because I know, we can all do better.”

  “I know I could’ve,” I admit. “But I didn’t want you as a best friend anymore.”

  He grins. “You were never supposed to.”

  “We’re more than that, but part of us is missing,” he ventures as my hands lay on his forearm. “I understand where you are at, baby girl. I do.”

  “For months, I imagined what it would be like, just you and me.”

  “And how do you feel?”

  Warm tears stream over my cold cheeks. “It’s quiet.”

  He snickers. “Imagine the dead silence without either of you.”

  “I miss the noise.”

  “Let’s make some,” he suggests, trying to bring me out of my funk. I feel frozen like the terrain, and the only heat I find is in the thoughts of the trinity before. And it burns…so good.

  But knowing it is gone—accepting that time has passed—brings a bitter blizzard and extinguishes the hope. The memories are preserved in formaldehyde, embalmed to prevent putrefaction, but I would’ve preferred cremation.

  And my need for the embers says way too much.

  His lips collide into mine. “Deacon…make, it stop.”

  “… Here?”

  I scan over the remote area. “Why not?” I say, unbuttoning my jeans. “I can keep you warm.”

  “Believe me, I know,” he says, lifting his brows. “And I don’t want to lose one more second with you.”

  “Fuck me, Cruz.”

  “You’re going to freeze your ass off.”

  “Not if I’m on your dick,” I mutter, pulling my jeans down and bending over a boulder. “Do it.”

  He licks his lips, tempted by my offer. “You are as crazy as…”

  “Say it,” I say, remembering. “Full sentences!”

  “You are as crazy as Sal,” he cackles, unzipping his jeans and thrusting into me. “God, you feel good…”

  “That’s why you love us…we’re both insane.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Sitting in the local dive about an hour from his house, I stare at the deer heads mounted on the walls. The chandeliers, if I can even call them that, are made from a cluster of antlers.

  These boys hunt.

  And I have entered their territory.

  Trudy would acclimate into this well, but I don’t know that the Lotus can, which leaves me feeling a bit like an uppity cunt. Plaid and boots are the styles, not that I have a problem with that in Texas, but I enjoy my couture on the arm of a man in a custom-tailored tux.

  That man isn’t Deacon.

  “How is the steak?”

  Overcooked and not being fed to me.

  “Can I get some whiskey?”

  “Sure.”

  Like the whole bottle.

  Jim Beam and Camel cigarettes. Mint gum, too, please.

  Oh. God.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say, rushing to the bathroom. I smile at the older woman as she exits, and I spot her husband waiting near the bathroom for her.

  I step into the small room with a stuffed squirrel mounted on the wall. I lock the door and stare in the mirror as I whisper, “I was Sal Raniero’s girlfriend.” I puke, coughing, and crying like I am dying. Against the wooden paneling, I slide down beside the toilet. “Oh, God…what have I done?”

  “You abandoned your post, missy.”

  “He is going to move on.”

  “Accept it now.”

  “There may be a girl known as Mrs. Raniero, and she may not be you.”

  I’m going to spend the rest of my life with Deacon while watching Sal move on with his. He will have a beautiful wife living the life I coveted for so long.

  What the fuck happened?

  Why am I in a dump in Colorado staring at a stuffed squirrel?

  How did everything get so fucked up?

  I will live in the shack behind the Victorian. I will be an old lady. I will be expected to uphold this role as a biker wife.

  It’s just a panic attack, a brief mood swing. I breathe and think of Deacon—his smile, laugh, and those panty-melting blue eyes.

  Sal
has jeweled emeralds that see through my soul.

  “Stop it. Hush. Hush. Shhh!”

  “Dandy?” Deacon taps on the door as I hear Sal saying my name.

  “Ya,” Sal smirked with that priceless white smile. “You flit and flaunter swirling around like a flying dandelion.”

  “I’ll be right there, Deacon,” I say, undoing my pants and taking a twinkle. I look at the spotty mess in my panties. “Fuck me, can this day get any worse?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  I say the lie.

  Because all I want is pasta in bed and his sauce in my bowl.

  I didn’t bother to finish the steak, but I did manage to kill four double shots of whiskey with some crackers the waitress brought me. Getting shit faced, I hoped would be my salvation.

  Sal.

  There was no salvaging what I had done. He needed me, and I fucked up. Choices were made, and it was too late. I needed to make the best life I could with a man named Deacon Cruz, who I happened to have a massive crush on.

  My current issues had nothing to do with Deacon and everything to do with doubt. I didn’t even trust myself, how fair would it have been to ask Sal to trust me?

  “Why are you so beautiful?”

  “I’m not,” I say as we walk out into the parking lot. “I’m a fucking drunk.”

  “Yes,” he replies. “You are that. Let me take you home.”

  That’s not my home, hot biker renegade.

  My home is a dilapidated mansion an Italian boy was going to fix with his own hands. He’s impressive with wood. He’s fantastic at handling me.

  “Stealing the girl from the castle now,” I blurt out, drunk. “Such an outlaw.”

  “The girl left the castle and showed up at my door,” he defends. “I didn’t steal you.”

  “Whatever…”

  We quietly ride home, and when he turns onto the road for his house, I spread my arms wide and close my eyes as I remember being on the back of Sal at Juliet. We had everything in the palm of our hand, and I threw it all away.

  “What the fuck?”

  My eyes flash open to the truck, completely vandalized. The windows are broken, and bullet holes run along the length. In red spray paint, on the passenger side, large letters say, “DEAD WHORE.”