Edge of the Enforcer

by Cherise Sinclair

  But he inserted a DVD and joined her, dragging her over his body so she lay sprawled on top of him. Resigning herself to watch a gory movie, she blinked in surprise. “You like Jurassic Park?” Jeez, it had a romance and children and—

  “Yeah.” His dimple flashed for a second. “Not for girly love shit. I’d just rather watch dinosaurs than war.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. DeVries’s bearing, his ability to snap out orders, the careful assessment he did of his surroundings, all screamed soldier. “Were you in the military?”

  “Mmmhmm.” After adjusting her so her cheek rested on his shoulder, he took another cookie, eyes on the screen. “You’re a great cook.”

  “Grandma’s recipe.” She lifted up to look at him. Melissa’s husband had been in the Air Force. “What branch?”

  His foggy-green eyes flicked down to her. “Navy SEAL.” With a firm hand, he pushed her head back down.

  Ooookay, guess the military wasn’t going to be a topic of conversation. What the heck, she’d always enjoyed this movie, and lying on top of a muscular guy wasn’t a problem. In fact, he was a pretty comfortable mattress and wonderfully warm.

  “That why you took a fake name?” he asked. “A divorce?”

  She stiffened and had to force herself to relax. He kept tossing unexpected questions at her. Butthead. So she used his answer, “Mmmhmm,” and had to smother a snicker when his jaw tightened. But he turned back to watch the show.

  As they watched, she deliberately commented on the romance which made him chuckle. In turn, he critiqued the actors’ idiotic combat maneuvers. Bet he was something in the field.

  WITH HER HEAD on his shoulder, the little Texan was half-asleep, draped over him like a limp kitten. He usually went for larger women, but this one was just plain cute. And when she was happy, she revved right up to totally beautiful.

  His curiosity nagged at him. He still didn’t know why she used a fake name. Might be a divorce. Might be scandal. Might be related to breaking the law. Or maybe she was running from someone. If some asshole was threatening her, he needed to know.

  As Jurassic Park ended and the credits scrolled up the screen, deVries turned off the television. How sleepy was the girl? Steady, even breathing. One hand curled around the side of his neck.

  “What’s your name, pet?” he asked in a soft voice.

  “Lindsey R—” Her mouth snapped shut as her eyes opened, and her body turned rigid. Color rushed into her face. “You bastard.”

  “Just wanted to know,” he said mildly, eyeing her warily. Good thing the knife he gave her was still in the kitchen.

  As she shoved to her feet, one hand came dangerously close to unmanning him. “I think it’s time for you to head home, deVries. Thanks for the steak and all that.”

  “Fuck, you got a temper. I only asked your name.”

  “And you got that if I wanted you to know it, I would’ve told you. Hit the road.”

  “Are you in trouble?” He rose and stepped into her personal space.

  Letting her understand he’d touch her even if she were furious, he pushed her hair over her shoulder. The purple colors gleamed under the brown locks. He liked that quirk of hers. “Can I help?”

  “No.” She shook her head vigorously and retreated out of his reach. Refusing his help. Refusing his touch. “My business is none of yours.”

  “Lindsey—”

  “God, just go home. It was fun. We’re done.”

  Oh no, we’re not. All the same, he backed off. For now. After all, a submissive had the power to say no…until she gave it into his hands. And she would.

  * * * *

  After deVries left, Lindsey finished cleaning up, even to the extent of running the dishwasher only half-full. She needed to eradicate his presence from her home.

  She’d sure been fooled by his terse, tough-guy persona. Who’d think the Enforcer would be so clever and so snoopy.

  But duh. She’d seen him in action at the club. A Dom who could play a submissive like deVries did was past intelligent. He was one of Simon’s best investigators—and even worse, from the glint in his eyes, he was more intrigued than put off by her answers.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and dropped down on the couch—then caught a hint of his scent on the pillow. Not aftershave. He used one of those woodsy guy soaps like Axe. With a huff of exasperation, she moved to the other side of the couch.

  “Can I help?” His straightforward offer in his low sandpaper voice kept echoing in her head.

  She’d so, so wanted to jump into his arms, blurt out everything, and let him fix her world.

  Only no one could.

  Trying, he could get killed—like Craig. It hadn’t been her fault Parnell had ordered the young police officer killed. She still felt responsible.

  If they hurt deVries, she’d never, ever forgive herself.

  Chapter Nine

  On Saturday night, the dance floor at Dark Haven was butt-to-butt crowded, but Lindsey didn’t care. She’d needed to dance and work off frustrations.

  She’d firmly decided to avoid deVries…and spent her entire desk shift hoping he’d come in. Every time the door to the club had opened, her pulse had sent up fireworks. Sheesh.

  Scowling, she spun around, trying to dislodge her foolish thoughts. “Go, sweet cheeks!” Dancing beside her, Dixon waggled his ass and gave her a hip-bump. “Shake them boobies.”

  Her handmade leather halter-top matched her butter-soft leather skirt—and made the most of her small breasts. “As you command.” She tossed her hair back and shimmied.

  Around her came whistles from men—and a couple of women.

  Copying her moves, Dixon urged her on, getting himself a nice accumulation of cheers as well.

  By the time the music died, she was panting and laughing and thoroughly warmed up.

  Dixon laced his fingers with hers. “After our nice show, we should have Doms lined up, begging to scene.”

  She snorted. “You might, Mr. Prettier-than-a-girl. Not me. But hey, aren’t you dating someone?”

  “Not seriously. He only wants to fuck.”

  “Huh, I know the type.”

  Dixon pursed his lips. “Not that I mind the sex, but I want a Dom. He’s not—was putting on a show to get laid.”

  “Oh.” Not like deVries, who wore his authority in every cell of his muscled…gorgeous…snoopy body. She squeezed Dixon’s fingers. “You know, honeybunches, you’re going to find someone who is perfect for you. Don’t give up.” Why did Dixon attract guys like that? “Hmmm.”

  “What?”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be so cute.” She frowned. “My mama would say when you flirt too much, you attract men who only want what you’re…silently promising.”

  He gave her a disbelieving look. “Are you giving me advice from your mother?”

  “Hey, she had some pretty good advice.” As long as it wasn’t about actual sex. Then it was like getting guidance from a nun. How had the woman ever managed to conceive?

  “Uh-huh.” Shaking his head, Dixon led the way across the room to a table filled with Doms and subs. On one side of the table was the blond masochist named HurtMe. Jacqueline, a newer submissive, sat beside him. She was older than Lindsey, maybe in her late thirties, and tended to safeword out of anything intense. Abby was near one end; Sir Ethan at the other.

  “Hey, y’all.” Lindsey dropped into an empty chair.

  Dixon detoured to sit beside a gorgeous gay Dom. After giving the guy a completely flirtatious look and getting one back, Dixon winked at Lindsey.

  So much for Mama’s advice. Lindsey smothered a smile.

  The conversation wandered from subject to subject as people watched a depersonalization scene on the raised left stage where a collared slave was being treated like a disobedient dog.

  Lindsey heard the scrape of a chair, and she glanced to her right.

  Clad in his usual worn leather pants and black T-shirt, deVries set his toy bag under the chair beside her
and sat down.

  She sighed. There were lots of other empty chairs, dammit. And she sure didn’t need him setting her hormones to doing a Texas two-step.

  His eyes, the color of a winter sea, swept over her. “Evening, girl.”

  Without even nodding, she turned away. Maybe Mr. Pushy-Pants would get the hint.

  The rasp of his deep voice as he spoke to the other Doms sent goose bumps up her arms. Should she leave? What if he followed her? One on one. That would be worse. Because, if he really did push, she’d cave.

  Why couldn’t she have met him…before? Before marrying Victor. Before all the blood and death and horror? I can’t do this, deVries. Can’t.

  Tucking her head down, she studied her bottle of water, turning it between her palms. If he’d only see reason. Or get bored and give up.

  As the conversation turned to depersonalization and degradation scenes, she stayed unnaturally silent.

  Rather than leaving, deVries put his arm along the back of her chair. She stiffened.

  Near one end of the table, HurtMe gave her a narrow-eyed look. What was up with that?

  Uneasy, she checked her friends. Abby’s face held no expression. Dixon, of course, was grinning.

  Lindsey could feel the heat of deVries’s arm behind her shoulders. Just the brush of his skin sent tingles through her. Wanting to cuddle into him, instead, Lindsey leaned forward.

  “I don’t understand how some submissives like such ugly stuff,” Jacqueline was saying. “Getting put down. Humiliated.”

  Rather than answering, the Doms around the table left the submissives to try to explain.

  Not surprisingly, Abby spoke. The professor loved to teach. “Part of the appeal is showing your surrender,” Abby said. “It’s akin to taking more pain than you like, because it will please your Dom—which is giving up physical control. Humiliation play is giving up emotional control.”

  “Doms like to work on areas you’re most uptight about.” Dixon wrinkled his nose. “That said, I’m not so much into the ucky things like piss or serious depersonalization.”

  Abby nodded. “There can be a kind of humiliation play that’s beneficial and even erotic, when other types seem closer to emotional masochism.” She smiled at Lindsey, and, professor-like, called on her. “What do you think, Lindsey?”

  So much for staying silent. Put on the spot, Lindsey frowned. Honestly, her vote went with Jacqueline. “I don’t think I understand the difference. It all looks creepy to me.”

  “Degradation stomps on a sub’s feelings of self-worth. Not my thing. But humiliation play—like erotic embarrassment—works pretty well.” DeVries’s gaze lingered on Lindsey as his long lean fingers curved around his glass.

  As she remembered how those fingers had curved around her breast, her nipples contracted—which everyone could probably see. Feeling her cheeks redden, she made a pfffing noise. “Bless your heart, how can a sadist like you understand anything about emotions?”

  Indrawn breaths around the table told her what she already knew. She’d crossed the line.

  DeVries’s eyebrows lifted, and he pushed his chair back. “Good thing you’re a receptionist. You can demonstrate what I meant by embarrassment.”

  Excuse me? Receptionists were expected to help with demos, but no way. Not with deVries. She shoved her chair back. An inch.

  His knee barred her escape.

  She blew out a slow breath, trying to think. “Listen, I’m not up to your speed. Sir. Getting beaten raw is a hard limit for me.” And Xavier was death on people ignoring those limits.

  “Guess that means I shouldn’t beat on you.” He took her chin, his hand tightening to the point of pain, letting her know she couldn’t escape. No kindness or amusement or anger showed in his level eyes. Lordy, she’d just discovered exactly why submissives called him the Enforcer. “Every time you speak—unless it’s your safeword—this show-and-tell will continue a minute longer.” He removed a small bullet vibrator from the toy bag under his chair.

  “No, waaaait!” Her words ended in a shriek when deVries plucked her up and onto his leather-clad thighs.

  He clamped an arm around her, pinning her elbows to her sides. With his other hand, he flicked the vibrator on and slid it under her leather skirt. It rested against her mound. Almost on her clit.

  With relief, she realized she was too uptight to react to anything right now. She relaxed slightly. Okay, this is embarrassing…but bearable.

  His cheek rubbed against hers as his husky voice whispered, “I remember the feel of you, little girl.” He repositioned his grip on the vibe, and his warm, hard fingers slid over her folds and traced around her entrance, reminding her how he’d brought her to orgasm over and over.

  “I remember your taste.” His tongue ran over the curve of her ear. Hot and wet. He always knew exactly how to use his mouth, damn him.

  Her body shot from no interest to a simmering desire.

  He chuckled, his voice still low, only loud enough for her to hear. “I’d like to set you on my cock and make you ride me, feel that cunt of yours pulling me in. A shame that’s not what we’re here for.”

  She stiffened.

  He moved the vibe closer to where she was throbbing. “I know how much you like toys, though.”

  As if she needed the reminder of that morning in bed. His grip on her clit. The way he’d forced her to endure the vibrator. Had hurt her. And had made her come so hard she’d almost died. “Don’t,” she whispered. “I don’t want this.”

  “Ask me if I care,” he murmured. “You got a safeword if you can’t take it.”

  The vibrations seemed to suddenly take effect, and heat swept over her followed by hunger. Holy shit, she needed to come. She wiggled, trying to get the vibrator closer to her clit. If he stopped…

  And he did. After dropping the vibe into its plastic bag, he half smiled at their audience around the table. “Lindsey doesn’t like showing her genitals.”

  Goddamn, how had he known that?

  He flipped her skirt up and tucked the hem into the waistband, baring her.

  “Don’t—don’t do—”

  “Lindsey, don’t make me tie you up and put you on the stage.” The threat sliced through her struggles. One arm still around her waist, he spread her legs to dangle outside his, exposing her to everyone.

  “No,” she whispered as embarrassed heat blanketed her like the air in a sauna. She remembered Victor’s disinterested stares, as if she were a mannequin rather than a woman.

  She closed her eyes as deVries’s hand separated her labia.

  “I enjoyed looking at her pussy, once I finally got her to open her legs,” deVries said to the others. “See how plump her lips are? And slick, fuck, she gets slick. Major turn-on when a sub gets drenched for you, isn’t it?”

  His words stunned her, and she froze. He liked her…down there? Seeing her? The chorus of agreement was even more astounding.

  “Nice clit too,” deVries continued, running his finger up and down, making the nub of nerves harden. “Sits right out where I can play with it.”

  Could she get any more humiliated? Yet the thrill of pleasure swept over her. He liked her pussy. Really?

  He used her own wetness to slicken her. “To be honest, though, have you ever seen a clit you didn’t like?”

  More murmurs of agreement.

  Maybe a woman’s pussy was like her breasts—men went blind and dumb at the sight of breasts, right? Victor hadn’t, but still… Yet Lindsey couldn’t face them. Eyes closed, she felt their gazes on her intimate parts of her like scratches from jagged fingernails.

  “More than the taste and sight, I got off on this…” His finger rubbed along her clit, building a fire inside her, sending her excitement spiraling upward. His arm immobilized her. She was almost there…

  God, she didn’t want to come now. No, no, no.

  He took her hand, placing her fingers as he had before in bed, making her hold her folds apart. “Show yourself to them. If yo
u don’t, I’ll dig out clamps to keep you open, and this will last a lot longer.”

  Need and anger and humiliation warred inside her. Damn him.

  Her fingers stayed in place, and she heard his satisfied grunt.

  She managed to glance at the table, at the fascinated audience. No one was making horrid comments about her being ugly down there. The interested gazes were…hot. Not scathing.

  Admiring. Aroused.

  Her fingers trembled.

  She heard him say, “Jacqueline, embarrassment can not only be erotic but also bust apart defenses keeping a sub from fully living.” He kissed Lindsey’s cheek. “You’re such a good girl. Now, stay like that.”

  The vibrator come down directly on her clit, held there by his determined hand, and she shot straight to climax, with not even a chance to say a word. Her body jerked inside the prison of his arm, and through the roaring in her head, she heard her own breathless cries.

  Her heart hammered; she gasped for oxygen. As she sagged against him, sliding into a mindless satisfaction, a cracking noise from the demonstration behind them split the air. On the stage, the submissive shrieked. Screamed again and again. More cracks.

  Lindsey’s world blurred. The pistol in her hands jerked, and the blast made her ears ring. Blood flowed between her fingers, sticky and hot and horrible as Victor convulsed. His eyes went blank and empty. Her screams went on and on, yet nothing escaped her frozen throat.

  Inch by inch, she sank into the quicksand of horror, finding no footing, no escape. The darkness closed over her.

  WHAT THE FUCK. DeVries stared at the little submissive in surprise. She’d gone from a warm, squirming armful to a frozen, blank-faced puppet. Horror filled her face as she looked at…nothing.

  Trigger. He’d hit a trigger, one he hadn’t been prepared for because—because he was an idiot. “Lindsey,” he said, his voice dropping into command mode. “Look at me, girl.”

  She didn’t move.

  He took her chin and turned her. “Look. At. Me.” He added a snap to the last word.

  One blink. Two. She shuddered, her haunted eyes meeting his. Jesus, he’d fucked this up. Holding her gaze with his, he yanked her skirt down, covering her and turning her so he could cradle her in his arms. He’d mindfucked her right into something he wasn’t prepared for.