Whip Me Up Tie Me Down

by Lavender Daye

  His scream went straight to her head and she repeated the process with the other man, moving quick and easy between each man until she could see streaks of red flowing from both.

  The report of a gun distracted her, pulling her attention away from the two men while she looked for Jake or one of the others. When she turned back, they were moving fast but the whip, under her hand, was faster.

  One of the invaders rushed her, limiting the whip’s usefulness. She didn’t have a plan for close quarters fighting with the weapon, so she improvised. Dipping to the floor, she picked up what was left of a glass lamp and threw it javelin-style at the closest man.

  Idiot tried to catch it against his chest and the mess of it impaled his torso. He went down with a thud.

  The other man turned to run, but the whip was already on the fly, the expected ache in her shoulders nonexistent while she defended her home.

  The man stumbled, backing into scattered furniture and trashed clothing while she plied her whip. He eventually ran out of the house and into her front yard. She could almost track his progress down the street by the noise he made.

  Sirens sounded in the distance and another volley of gunfire had her worrying about Jake.

  Red lights spun through the windows. Car doors popped open. Shouts from familiar voices rang out. Her backup had arrived.

  She gathered the whip into a coil and eased around the corner. Jake must still be in the bedroom or at least in the house. Emergency lights continued to flicker and, combined with the red lights of the patrol vehicles, lent an air of out of season holiday cheer while she crept down the hallway. The noise from the cops outside receded, a sense of dread surrounding her as she moved closer to the bedroom.

  It was too quiet.

  Scumbag Terry was on the floor in the hall, blood staining the carpet while he stared at the ceiling with glassy eyes. A fitting end to a life of crime as far as she was concerned, but she hadn’t found Jake yet. Her chest ached at the thought of him hurt. He was important to her.

  She stood outside the door and listened, focusing on any noise out of place in the room she knew better than she knew her own body. There were faint sounds of panting, but no way to know whose. “The police are here. Throw out your weapon and step out of the room with your hands up.”

  Nothing.

  “Move it, now.”

  Silence.

  “Talk to me. I can help you.”

  She couldn’t wait any longer. Dropping the coil, she held tight to the whip’s handle and aimed for what she hoped was the airspace above the bed. Probably wouldn’t hit anyone, but it might illicit a shout of surprise that would identify whoever was in there fighting to breath.

  Seconds later, her shoulder was on fire, the pain of the bullet slicing through her body occurring simultaneous to the wound. She slumped to the side, eyes half closed as a man entered the hall. Khalid stepped around her, a pistol at the ready.

  Her eyes fixed on the gun at his side, a wish pounding in her head, a keen need for that gun. As he stepped over Terry, she recognized the glint of metal under the dead man’s body.

  Shifting around, she lifted her left hand and reached for it. No go. Bearing down on her ass, she stuck a foot under the body and lifted the torso high enough to see most of the revolver. No way to know if there were unspent rounds, but she had to try while Khalid was still in the hallway. Using her foot, she pulled the gun close enough to reach with her left hand. Praying she could manage a decent shot with the opposite hand, she extended her arm and pulled the trigger as many times as she could until the room went black around her.

  Chapter 18

  Her feet weren’t onboard but her head demanded coffee. It required movement Lizette didn’t want to attempt, so she rolled over to grab the extra pillow and pulled it tight to her chest. Might be her imagination, but the damn thing smelled slightly of Jake, the bastard. Didn’t stop her from burying her nose into it and remembering the last time they’d had sex.

  More than sex, or so she’d thought.

  Live and learn had always been her motto. One little slip of her guard wouldn’t change her life. Plenty of time to find comfort in a few memories while she worked double shifts. Work settled her head, gave her a reason to get up every morning. Scumbags needed taking down and she did it right.

  Damn straight.

  She shoved the pillow onto the floor and slid out after it, coffee sounding better every minute. The doorbell chimed before she made it to the kitchen and she stopped in mid-stride to check her wardrobe. That incident with the paperboy last week and the look on his face were still stuck front and center in her head. Probably in his, too.

  Screw it. He was a teenager and had most likely been the hot stuff by telling his buddies he was flashed by a half-naked woman.

  But she was okay. An oversized T-shirt, one of Jake’s, covered all her good parts. When she opened the front door, her heart stuttered for a second. Gathering her calm, she leaned against the jam and crossed her ankles and arms. Anything else, a whisper or a flinch or even a sigh might blow her into next year. She tightened her gut, prepared for whatever he had to say.

  “Good morning. Did I wake you?”

  What to say. What to say. Where the hell have you been for the last month came to mind, but her mouth refused to work. No point in revealing the gaping hole in her heart he’d left behind. “I was just making coffee.” Same square jaw. Same aquiline nose with a tiny crook from a break long ago. Same brown eyes eating her up.

  She refused to go there. Untangling her ankles, she spun and beat feet for the kitchen and the coffee pot. If ever a woman needed caffeine, she did. The door shut behind her while she scooped coffee into the basket and turned on the machine.

  Footsteps on the hardwood floor in the hall proved she hadn’t escaped.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to come back.”

  The scent of the brew gave her brain a welcome jolt. Not quite as good as a full cup heating her from the inside out, but it gave her a little strength, enough to face him. “Why are you here? I haven’t heard from you in a month. No calls, not even a postcard.”

  “I was in the hospital for a week.”

  So was she, but he hadn’t asked and she refused to beg for his consideration.

  “Then I was shipped to headquarters. Debrief took two more weeks out of my life, and I was roped into dealing with the consulate and Khalid’s actions that led to his death. Good job, by the way.”

  “And I’m guessing your phone, and every phone in the country, was dead?”

  Yeah, she’d been told her shots put the man in a grave. She’d endured kudos and therapy for that little trick, and for surviving the whole ordeal. She didn’t want to acknowledge it.

  “I wanted to call. Didn’t know if you’d talk to me. Thought it would be best to have a face to face.”

  Lizette leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms. “For me? It would’ve been nice to know you were still breathing.”

  “They didn’t tell you?”

  “What do you think? You’re some kind of spook. I used every contact I could find, harassed every office I could reach. Finally, one secretary-and I don’t even know her name-told me you were alive and well.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He moved to hug her and she stiff-armed him. “Don’t even think about touching me.””

  He didn’t retreat but kept his distance, feet planted like she’d need a wrecking ball to get him out of her house. He wasn’t a Dom or a submissive. Instead, she faced a strong willed, arrogant pure-bred male of the human variety.

  This situation would be so much simpler to handle if she could dominate him.

  Not happening.

  “Do you remember the compromise we negotiated before I agreed to stay in your home?”

  The easy answer? She’d say yes, since it was the truth, and they’d renegotiate until he was in her bed. He was that good. But she didn’t want to make it that easy for Jake.

 
“Vaguely. What of it?”

  “I’ve been thinking. Hoping, really, that we could continue that compromise. Long-term. Without the spook stuff and the gunfights. What do you think?”

  She wanted to say yes. She wanted to jump into his arms and wrap herself around him and celebrate the fact that they were still alive. She wanted to tie him down and whip him up until he begged forgiveness.

  The last option had serious energy behind it and it was all she could do to keep the idea out of her expression.

  “I spent the past month packing up my townhouse and extricating myself from the agency. I’m officially a civilian and looking for work.”

  He stepped around her without making contact and took two mugs out of the cabinet. “The house looks good.”

  “I made some changes, a few upgrades, since it needed a lot of repairs.”

  “Lizette? Will you at least think about letting me back into your life?”

  She sipped her coffee and gave serious thought to pinching herself. This had all the earmarks of a dream she’d had too many times. “Why would you do that? You were only playing submissive. It’s not who you are.”

  “I want you.”

  She shook her head. “In a few minutes, my alarm will go off and you won’t be here.”

  “What?”

  “You’re a dream, one that can never come true. I can’t keep doing this.”

  Strong hands wrapped around her upper arms and pulled her close. “I won’t take no for an answer, Lizette. I’m not leaving. I love you, you headstrong little Domme. We’ll negotiate a life together. It can be done, if we’re both willing to try. Trust me.”

  His mouth covered hers and took control, blazing through all her denials, and her hands snaked around his waist. When the kiss ended, she rested her forehead against his sternum. “You really want to live here?”

  He nodded. “Can we work out a way for both of us to get what we need?”

  Three weeks later...

  Lizette pushed through the doors of Private Delights, her whip coiled and clipped to the belt of her leather pants and a leather leash in one hand. Three feet behind her, the submissive man at the other end of that leash lowered his chin and waited while his Mistress scanned their membership cards and spoke to the concierge.

  She didn’t tug on the restraint to gain his attention, sure he’d follow her into the main salon. The leash and his word were all they needed. She’d dressed him in leather pants with an old fashioned front, the kind that buttoned on three sides and dropped forward to expose a man’s privates. Just in case she wanted to play with him.

  The leash was clipped to a loop on his waistband instead of a collar. Per their negotiation, he wore black armbands with her initials on them instead of the traditional collar, and he was shirtless for her pleasure.

  Friday night meant a good crowd and the place was already buzzing. Lizette tugged once and Jake closed the distance between them. He stayed close behind her as they made their way through the various groups socializing in the main room. Lizette and Mark had agreed to meet for dinner and she was looking forward to a nice outing with friends. She knew Jake was a little leery of the double date, but she wanted to show him that submission wasn’t derogatory to either party. Mark was a perfect model of the lifestyle. He took excellent care of Kellie. Just as she’d like to take care of Jake.

  He didn’t see it that clearly, but she had hope for them as a couple. He did, however, understand more of the lifestyle of the club, since he and Mark had been friends for a while. When they found Mark and Kellie in a semi-private area, he waited until she sat in a chair and then went to his knees beside her.

  Lizette reached over the armrest and played with Jake’s hair while she and Mark talked about nothing in general. Casual small talk. Kellie showed off her ring and Lizette asked about wedding plans. After a while, they moved to the restaurant. Her lover at her side, dinner with like-minded friends. Life couldn’t get much better.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Lavender lives in Texas with her own private Prince Charming, two kids, two cats and a large brown rug, uh, dog. She spends her days writing sexy contemporary romance, sometimes adding a hint of suspense or tossing in a little dominance and submission.

  A member of RWA, she took first place in the Great Expectations Contest in 2011 for Bound by Trust.

  When she’s not writing or reading great romance novels, she can be found in the kitchen baking, usually with chocolate. Find her on facebook or the other sites she inhabits in her spare time.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at the next book’s first epilogue.

  An excerpt from

  Tie Me Up in Pearls

  Elizabeth Kane dipped her chin and cringed at the sound of her boss’s loud laugh. She’d been out of the office for the last two days showing a new client some high end properties for a new club he wanted to create in the Denver area. Any one of the listings would bring in much needed revenue for the business and a decent paycheck for her. At least, she hoped so. She was barely making ends meet and if she didn’t make a sale soon, she’d need to find an extra job. Her client, a nice man from Texas, had narrowed the field to three properties this afternoon, and when she told Mr. Telcher the news, he’d insisted on taking her to dinner to celebrate.

  The man hadn’t touched his dinner, preferring a liquid meal while growing louder with every sip. To make things worse, their client had come in with several other men and the maître d’ had put them at a table not nearly far enough away to avoid notice. The only saving grace was that her boss didn’t know who the client was.

  Now, if he’d just quiet down a bit, she might be able to get him out of the restaurant without compromising the deal. “Please eat something, Mr. Telcher. There are other people waiting for tables.” She couldn’t mention the babysitter she needed to relieve. No one at the agency knew about her other obligations. Keeping her private life confidential was a top priority.

  She lifted her fork and bit down on a sinful sliver of steak, the center a perfect pink. Not her usual dinner, but for once she wasn’t paying. Telcher grabbed her arm as she swallowed the morsel. The shock of his hand on her bare skin made her jump and the meat lodged in her throat. His solution? A glass of water, but in his semi-inebriated state, more of the liquid landed on her chest instead of in her mouth. Holding him off with one hand, she managed to clear her windpipe and swallow the food.

  “Time for me to go home, Mr. Telcher.”

  ***

  Derek Lyons, bone tired and hungry, settled into his seat while his friends from the old neighborhood placed their orders. The sweet little waitress was flirting, giving them a run, and they were eating it up. If there was one thing he could recognize in a heartbeat, it was a beautiful woman, and this one was a definite cutie. Much too young for him, but looking was free and safe.

  Besides, he had no desire to hook up with a woman, young, old, or in between. He’d been semi-celibate for five years, give or take a few. Which meant he had a woman or two he could sleep with to relieve stress when needed. Both were widowed with no wish to be in a traditional relationship. They didn’t date, considered themselves friends with benefits, and enjoyed a little shared passion once or twice a year.

  Unlike his buddies here. Joe, Tom, and their wives had been friends when Derek’s wife was alive, the six of them playing hard in the BDSM world and making nice with the neighborhood. Even before wives were involved, the three of them were close. Now t
hey were settled with kids-families he’d seen pictures of and sent birthday cards to.

  Not what his life had become, but they were still friends.

  Joe said something to make the girl laugh and she promised to bring their drinks and a bread basket if they promised to behave. The banter and company gave him a chance to relax. He’d spent the last two days looking at property for a new club. The area was ripe for development, since the last BDSM club closed its doors a few years ago. According to his friends, the group had been meeting in homes until they could find a better option.

  Derek and his buddies in Texas were going to help in a big way as soon as he found the right spot.

  A commotion across the room caught his attention and he watched as a man flung most of a glass of water onto his companion while she coughed. He’d ignored the rowdiness from that side of the room earlier, but he couldn’t tolerate the man’s treatment of his date.

  Joe leaned close. “I feel the same as you, Derek, but I don’t know them and neither do you. Let it be.”

  He nodded to his friend. No use in getting between them when it might be their favorite foreplay. Another glance in their direction pulled him out of his chair. The woman was standing with her purse in hand while the older man held tight to her upper arm.

  Son of a—so much for Joe’s advice. He knew the woman. She’d been all over the area with him, finding likely properties for the new club.

  Her grimace when she turned in Derek’s direction was all he needed. A few steps took him to her side.

  “Miss Kane, anything I can help you with?” Not too loud and not too rough, he pitched the question low enough to remain at their table and keep other bystanders away.

  The face she turned up to acknowledge him set fire to his gut. Embarrassment, a hint of regret, and fear played in her expression. “Is this your husband?”