The Hot Sergeant (Second Chance Military Romance) (Hargrave Brothers - Book #2)

by Alexa Davis

His words touched me, but not as much as the caring I saw for me burning in his eyes. Could it be possible that he was falling in love with me as much as I was for him? Setting down the water, I could hardly believe that this was the same hard-hearted, foreboding Tristan that had intimidated me so much before. Looking up into his handsome face, I asked, "You'd do that for me?"

  He caressed my cheek and said softly, "Of course, I would. I always take care of the things that belong to me. Are you still willing to be mine?"

  His hand slid down my face and over my throat. I swallowed hard with emotion, and said, "Of course, I am. You're the Boss; whatever you say goes, but I don't need any extra protection. Let the world know that I belong to you. I'm not ashamed of it. In fact, I'll say it with pride."

  Tristan lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me passionately, forcing my lips apart with the power of his own so that our tongues collided. It took my breath away and I moaned with pleasure at the all consuming embrace as my arms circled around his neck and curled inside his thick hair Tristan's hand slipped underneath my robe and began to fondle my left breast. My body responded instantly to his touch, and I gasped with pleasure at the feel of his thumb rubbing over my taut nipple.

  "Are we interrupting something?" a female voice said from behind, and Tristan and I both startled to find Suzanne and Clara entering the apartment. I moved quickly to straighten my robe and Tristan stood up from the couch, making my roommates gasp with surprise to realize he was the one I was making out with.

  "I must be going. I have important matters to attend to," he said to me with cold detachment. Where was intimate lover who had spoken to me with such caring a moment ago? I forced back the hurt feelings and reminded myself that he was a man of power and reputation. I could not expect him to be the same with me in public as he was in private. It made the intimate moments we shared even more special. Looking at me pointedly, he said, "I will see you for our regularly scheduled appointment at eight o'clock tonight. Inform your roommates of the situation and call your family. Everyone must be prepared for the media blitz tomorrow."

  "You want me to go to the club?" I was surprised he still wanted me to under the circumstances, and yet relieved that nothing had changed. I'd meant what I said about being proud to be his and nothing made be happier.

  "You said you still wanted to be mine," Tristan stated, like that made it obvious that we would still meet at the club tonight. "Now, do as you've been instructed and I'll reward you appropriately."

  My roommates stared as he left and then turned their shocked gazes on me.

  "What was that all about?" Suzanne asked knowingly, but Clara was utterly stunned.

  "You were making out with Tristan Porter? When did this start and why didn't you tell me?" she wanted to know. I knew Tristan was right. I needed to reveal the whole truth to them before they read about it in the morning paper.

  "Have a seat, you two. I need to tell you something important, and you may not like it."

  Clara and Suzanne sat on the couch, one on either side of me and listened enraptured as I told my tale. Tears began to choke my voice as I explained how hard it had been for me to find a job, any job, and how heartbreaking it had been to see all my dreams of being a model fail.

  "We know how tough it is out there, honey," Suzanne comforted me.

  "Yeah, nobody knows better than us." Clara handed me a tissue.

  I smiled at them gratefully for their support and forced myself to keep going. "Well, everyone had told me it would be hard, but I guess I'd never really prepared for the reality. I thought for sure I'd be able to pay my third of our share of the bills, but eventually, all my savings ran out. I was penniless – no, I was less than penniless. I was in debt. I'd overdrawn my checking account just to be able pay my share of the rent last month, and I'd known that there was no way I'd be able to pay my share of things of this month."

  "We'd have covered for you," Suzanne said kindly.

  "Of course, we would have, but we didn't have to. You got the modeling job working for Tristan Porter. See, everything worked out just like you thought it would."

  I smiled ruefully. Clara still didn't know the truth, and Suzanne only knew half of it. It was time to come clean. I just wished it wasn't so hard. Clutching my stomach, I swallowed and said, "I could never ask you two for help like that. Knowing how hard it is to make it in this city, it would be too much of an imposition for me to ask you to support me in addition to yourselves. I couldn't do that to you as your friend. So, I did what I had to do. I took a job modeling and acting at a sex club as a prostitute."

  Clara gasped in shock, but Suzanne made it clear that she already knew. I had a shock for her, too, though. Terrified of their rejection, I stared at the ground and said, "And not just any sex club, it's a BDSM club. It's called Whip, and it specializes in bondage, domination, sadism, and masochism kinky sex games. I work there to service the male customers."

  "Oh my God. How many men do you have to service a night?" Clara was dumbfounded.

  "Just one. I only work for Tristan Porter," I said with a lifted chin, and the pride I felt in being his came through in my voice. It may not be socially acceptable to do the things I had done, but I refused to be ashamed. Speaking confidently, I continued, "He's my one and only client and paid to reserve me just for him every Friday and Saturday night. He pays me five hundred dollars a night. It's how I was able to pay my share of the bills this month and repay all my debts. I even have enough saved up to pay next month's rent, too, and I'm giving it to you to say thank you for all that you've done for me. I know I need to move out now, but I don't want you to be short on rent while you look for another roommate. I'll pack my things and be gone by the end of the week."

  I wondered if they hated me now, and I understood it if they did. I was the worst kind of whore: a dirty, kinky sex-slave whore. Still, I was doing what made me happy and even if it meant losing my friends, I wasn't going to stop doing it. Even so, I hoped I wouldn't have to. Clara and Suzanne were good friends and I treasured them more than they knew. I hoped they would be willing to stand by me. I looked down at my feet, unable to look at them, in case they rejected me.

  I felt Suzanne's hand on my shoulder and she gently forced me to look up at her. Tears were shimmering in her eyes, but there was no judgment there, just a look of empathy and compassion. She hugged me tight and said, "We've all been there, honey. Nobody makes it in this city without sacrificing some of their principles. I've done nude photo shoots for skin magazines, given blow jobs in cars, and slept with photographers to get jobs. I'm no better than you are and I don't think any less of you for what you've done."

  "Really? You don't hate me for be a prostitute at a fetish club?"

  "No," Clara confirmed. "And, we don't want you to move out. At least you got to sleep with someone hot and amazing like Tristan Porter. I don't even want to mention the low-life assholes I've screwed for a job."

  "Really? You, too?" I turned to Clara and hugged her tight. They both understood and they both forgave me for what I'd done. "What about the paparazzi and the negative publicity we're sure to get after tomorrow?"

  "We're models. We love getting our picture taken." Clara grinned.

  Suzanne put her arm around me and laughed. "Besides, no publicity is bad publicity. We'll take all the recognition we can get and maybe some of your lover's fame and success will rub off on us."

  We drank a toast to celebrate the camaraderie we felt now that my secret was out. It was a huge relief no longer having anything to hide from my best friends. Then, I turned to the phone and my heart grew heavy again. It was time to call my parents and I was certain they weren't going to take the news as well.

  "Hello," a familiar voice came on the line. Shit. I was hoping they wouldn't answer and I would get their voicemail.

  "Hi, Dad, it's me," I said, trying to keep the nervous quaver out of my voice and failing miserable.

  "What's wrong, sweetheart?" Dad asked, his voice sounding gruff with worry.


  "Nothing. Is Mom home?"

  "She's right here. I've got you speaker phone," Dad said.

  Suddenly, I could hear my mother echoing in the distance. "I'm right here, sweetheart. You sound stressed. Is something wrong?"

  "No. Everything is great. I've got a terrific job that I love doing. It makes me happier than I've ever been and I'm earning great money. Plus, I've met a guy that I think I'm falling in love with. I'm not sure yet, but think he's falling in love with me, too."

  "That's all wonderful, sweetheart. We're very happy for you," my mother said, but she sounded doubtful and suspicious.

  My father was more direct. "So, why did you call? Why do you sound so nervous?"

  There was no way around it. I just had to say it. I said it all in one breath, without stopping. I was afraid that if I paused for air, I wouldn't have the courage to keep going. When I was done, I could hear my mother sobbing in the background. It was my father who found the courage to speak first. "This is coming out on the front page of the Sunday paper in Los Angles?"

  "Yes, Daddy. I'm sorry if it embarrasses you, but this is the life I've chosen and I'm happy in it. Tristan Porter treats me well, I'm independent and making really good money that I can support myself on, and I'm truly happy for the first time in my life. I hope you and Mom can understand that and be happy for me."

  "The answer is no," my father said. It was a quiet growl that carried all the weight of a deafening shout. I could feel the weight of his anger and disapproval through the phone and his disappointment in me was crushing. "You are not to stay in that job or even in that city for one more day. I am buying you a plane ticket and you are coming home on very next flight back to Ohio."

  "But, Daddy," I started to object, but he cut me off.

  "There are no arguments. You've always been independent and your mother thought maybe letting you try chasing your dreams in L.A. would be good for you, but I knew it would only lead to trouble and I was right. Now get your ass home on the next flight or I have no daughter. Do you hear me? I will disown you if you stay there. Say goodbye to your friends and pack your bags. I'll tell you where to pick up your ticket."

  The line went dead and I knew my father had hung up on me. I had to choice to make: losing Tristan or losing my family. The answer was clear.

  WHATEVER HE WANTS #4

  Chapter One: Olivia

  My heart weighed heavy as I rode the city bus and stared out the window at the sights passing by. Normally, I would be happy, excited, and filled with anticipation as I traveled towards my destination, but tonight it was impossible with so much hanging over my head. I loved my parents and my hometown with all my heart, but I'd grown to love L.A., too.

  I'd miss the corner store where I bought groceries for Suzanne and Clara, and I loved laughing with my roommates like we were sisters and going to the job where I felt appreciated and made real money. It all gave me a sense of freedom and independence I never would have found if I had stayed back home in Ohio.

  I was raised with traditional values, but just because things were always done a certain way didn't necessarily mean that was the right way. I'd tried walking down the path of the good girl and it brought me nothing buy misery. Going to school for a degree I wasn't really interested in, being engaged to a guy I really didn't love – and all because it was the right thing to do. It had all turned out to be the wrong thing for me.

  Now, here I was living in the big city, doing everything wrong, and my life had never felt so right. I loved Tristan and the way he made me feel when I was with him: alive, beautiful, sexy, valued, interesting, and the only woman for him. He made me feel important, special, and like I mattered to him. I never felt that way at home – not with my family, certainly not with my ex boyfriend, and sadly, not even with my parents. It was settled in my mind, I was staying in Los Angeles and I was going to keep working at the club and being with Tristan. I just wished I didn't have to lose my family to do it.

  I just had to keep reminding myself that it was their choice if they wanted to cut me out of their lives. I would always be their daughter and if they wanted to keep being my parents, then I would welcome them with open arms. I was ready to accept them just exactly the way they were, they just needed to be willing to do the same for me.

  As I walked into the club, Mr. Varner was in a panic. I'd never seen him looking so pale and shaky, and it worried me. News about the article had driven away most of his clients and quite a few of his employees, too. I smiled at him reassuringly as I clocked in for my shift.

  "Olivia, thank God you're here. Did you hear about the article?"

  "Yes. Tristan I talked about it and we both agree that were not going to let it stop us from coming in."

  He looked visibly relieved, and I went into my alcove to wait for Tristan, although it didn't take long this time. He came into the room with his usual power and prestige, and I felt my heart flutter just being near him.

  "Did you do as I had instructed?" he asked me, and I nodded.

  "I did."

  "And, how did it go?" He sounded genuinely concerned, and his caring made it impossible for me to block the emotions rising up inside me.

  "My roommates took it well, but my parents did not." I choked on the last words, trying not to cry but a single tear slipped down my cheek. "They demanded that I move back home or they'll disown me."

  "Andm what did you decide?" Tristan's eyes fixated on me. His voice was unusually tight and his chest was moving rapidly. It startled and touched me to realize that he was afraid to lose me, and I quickly put his mind at ease.

  "I'm staying here. This is where I belong."

  Tristan drew me into his arms and kissed me, deep and long and passionately. It was a kiss of love and not just lust, but it aroused us both. I could feel his erection digging against my hip and I felt my own pulse quicken with desire.

  "That must have been a difficult decision for you," he said gruffly as he pulled away. Then, in an effort to lighten the mood, he turned around and grabbed a package he'd set by the door. Grinning happily, he said, "I got you a present today. Put it on, and I'll do what I can to make you feel all better."

  He set the rather large gift bag in my hands, and I opened it up excitedly. Inside was a black leather bodysuit covered with strategically placed zippers, a pair of black leather gloves, a black leather hood, and a set of earplugs.

  "What do I do with all this?" I asked, feeling intrigued.

  "Put it all on. It's for your Sensory Deprivation Training. You'll be amazed at just how much your sense of touch will be enhanced by it. Let me show you and all your stress from today will be wiped away."

  Feeling doubtful, I put on the leather bodysuit. It was tight and uncomfortable and I knew I would quickly become hot inside of it as I squeezed into it, but I had promised to give Tristan my complete obedience, so I forced my body into the form-fitting garment and allowed him to zip me inside. The black leather covered me from the top of my neck all the way down to my toes, with long, tightly-fitted sleeves that ran down to my wrists so that not an inch of my skin was exposed. The leather gloves covered my hands, muting my sense of touch even more, and the hood covered not only my head, but my eyes and nose, so that only my mouth and nostrils were left open for breathing.

  Blindfolded by the mask, I was submerged in total darkness and allowed Tristan to carefully guide me to the brick wall. Normally, I would have been able to feel the cool roughness of the bricks, but now all I felt was the warm leather that surrounded my body and all I saw was blackness.

  Tristan spread my arms out wide like a cross, and I felt him attach my wrists to the wall with heavy shackles, binding them in place. Next, he spread my legs shoulder width apart and chained them to the wall, forcing me to maintain the precarious and vulnerable position.

  "Now, I'm going to insert the earplugs into your ears," I heard his voice say. "With the sensory deprivation suit on, you won't be able to see, or hear, or feel anything. Let your mind go free and
see what this experience brings to you. I think you're going to be amazed with how much you like it."

  I felt him insert the plugs into my ears and everything went quiet. I had no idea how long I stood there, chained helpless to the wall. My ears strained to hear Tristan so I could at least tell if he was still in the room or if he had abandoned me, but there was nothing but silence. My eyes strained, searching fearfully for any glimmer of light, but the hood was secured so snuggly over my eyes and face that there was nothing but blackness. I couldn't even feel currents of air moving in the room thanks to the leather suit binding every inch of my skin. As time stretched on, I wondered if I would go crazy and struggled in my bonds searching for any kind of input, but then eventually, I realized the futility of that and I became peaceful.

  My mind and body begin to relax, and I grew to appreciate this moment of emptiness. Forced to stand in solitude with nothing else to distract me, I was able to calmly take stock of my life and a new sense of gratitude overwhelmed me. This was where I felt most like myself. This was where I belonged. Whatever Tristan had in store for me, I knew it was for the best. He had never let me down or disappointed me. Everything we did together brought me more pleasure and a stronger sense of myself. All I had to do was trust and obey him and everything would be alright.

  Suddenly, I felt a breath of cool air as the front of the suit begin to slowly open around my left breast and I realized Tristan was opening the zipper on the front of the suit. The sudden rush of air surrounding my hot and sweaty nipples felt incredible, and I sighed with relief. Then, I felt the same thing on my right breast as Tristan opened the leather suit inch by inch, exposing my naked skin to the cool night air.

  I felt him blowing cool air from his mouth upon my hot flesh and my nipples puckered with arousal. Then, I felt him kissing my bare breasts all over and moans of pleasure escaped my mouth. It seemed like so long since I'd felt anything but the leather, and my skin tingled at his merest touch.

  Suddenly, I felt the freezing pain of ice cubes being rubbed on my puckered nipples. I gasped and moaned at the intensity of my pleasure and felt my pussy ripple. Sure, I'd felt the erotic tingles of ice on my tits before, but this time the sensation was so much more intense, it was euphoric. Before long, I started to come just from the stimulation of the ice on my nipples. My body spasmed and bucked as the powerful orgasm tore right through me and I cried out Tristan's name with rapture.