At the round table for six, Brody and Marco sat with Fancy and Harper between them. Monica took the other seat next to Marco with Corey on her left, next to Brody. After a busboy had placed two baskets of warm, fresh bread on the table with a dish of butter rosettes, the conversation picked up again.
Corey directed a question at Marco. “So you work with Brody. Did you serve in the Navy, too? Fancy mentioned. . .um. . .what’s his name?” He glanced at the man seated beside him. “Boomer, was it?” When Brody confirmed Corey was correct, he continued. “Yeah, Fancy mentioned they served together as SEALs.”
Swallowing a mouthful of beer, Marco nodded. “Yup. I’ve known Egghead since basic and then a few years later we ended up on the same team together.”
“Egghead?”
Marco chuckled. “His call sign. He’s a geek of the highest degree, but you’d never know by looking at him.”
While Brody gave his buddy a subtle middle finger along the side of the nose, Corey laughed. “Then I guess he’s a bit of an anomaly—brawn and brains.”
Even the women found that amusing and Brody held up his hands. “Sure, laugh at my expense. Just don’t come running to me when your laptops or phones go haywire, and you can’t figure out why.”
Harper chimed in. “You’ll probably be the cause of it.” She filled the others in while he just grinned, knowing exactly what she was going to say. “Last time he got mad at their boss, he changed all the settings on Ian’s cell phone and locked him out. The ringtone was set to the ‘Chicken Dance’ and Siri was calling Ian ‘Princess Twat-Waffle.’”
The group roared, including Brody. “Yeah. I made him sign a document that Ms. Legal Eagle over there,” he pointed at Harper, “drew up for me saying he wouldn’t retaliate before I let him have his settings back.”
The waitress interrupted to tell them the specials and ask if they needed new drinks. When she stepped away again, Corey looked back and forth between the two other men. “I don’t know how you guys do it. I give a lot of credit to people who sign up for the military, but you guys went even further in special ops. Glad you got out of there alive.”
“So are we,” Brody said, assuming he’d meant either Iraq or Afghanistan—or both. And it was true. They’d lost good men and women—good friends—over in those desert hellholes, as well as other places they’d been sent to they couldn’t tell anyone about. “But you’re in a profession that deserves a lot of credit, too. You run into fires while everyone else is trying to get out. Were you a fireman up in Ohio, too?”
Corey shook his head. “No. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life back then. When Patrick and Fancy moved down here, I figured why the heck not and followed. I was sick of the cold winters. One of my new neighbors was on the job and convinced me to take the test.” He grinned. “Actually, he’d said it was a great way to meet women.”
Everyone laughed, and Nora said, “Well, that is how we met.”
“Very true.” He put his arm around her shoulder. “My neighbor was right, but. . .he should’ve said it’s a great way to meet a great woman.”
The brunette blushed. It was obvious she was as smitten with Corey as he was with her. Brody glanced at Fancy to find her smiling at her brother-in-law’s happiness, and he gave her a wink. Despite a probable serial killer who’d set upon the submissives of Tampa, and the issues with Fancy’s shop, it was turning into a pleasant evening for all of them.
* * *
The Dom smirked as he listened to the chatter around him. The hot topic at the club tonight was the horrific death of Heather Davis. While many people had experienced problems with her in the past, apparently what he had done to her wasn’t something they would wish for anyone. Most of the details were being kept quiet by the police, but a few had gotten out. On top of that, there was plenty of speculation—some of which he found quite hysterical. There had been several times he’d wanted to open up his mouth and correct the ignoramuses—particularly when they’d referred to the killer as a psychotic deviant. He wasn’t a psychotic deviant at all, just a man willing to do his part in ridding the world of worthless whores.
Years ago, when he’d discovered the lifestyle, he felt as if he’d found his home—his calling. He trained and studied under some of the best Dom’s in the area, but there had always been something missing—that last piece that would make him feel complete. And now he’d found it. The satisfaction he’d had after whipping those three women had made him feel ten feet tall and bulletproof. And watching the cops tossing their cookies the other morning, after they’d discovered his masterpiece, had been even more entertaining—making him yearn to find his next victim and start on a new work of art. But rushing things would be a mistake. He had to continue being methodical. Otherwise, he might get caught. Florida had the death penalty, and he’d be damned if someone ended his life before his destiny was fulfilled.
In the meantime, he could enjoy himself tonight. While he was scene-ing with a sub, he would be reliving every scream Heather had let out for him. Now, who was the lucky lady tonight?
Chapter 13
Brody paced Fancy’s living room while she was in the bathroom. The evening had been fun with the other two couples, but now he was nervous as all hell. It was time to tell her everything and then pray she didn’t kick him out the door.
He glanced at the clock on her cable box. Almost midnight. Neither one of them had to be up early tomorrow—if you called 8:00 a.m. late. She’d asked Jamie to open for her, and Brody had a detail in the morning at nine with nothing before then. He’d been happy when Fancy had mentioned hiring more staff with her business growing bigger as more people began to discover her little shop, and with the references she’d been getting from the weddings and parties she’d done. With a larger staff, she would be able to delegate more and then take some time for herself. She deserved to be pampered, not on her feet, working her ass off for at least ten hours per day, seven days a week. When—call him optimistic—he collared her, she would definitely be making some changes in her life; her fatigue worried him daily. No one could keep up the pace she’d set for herself without eventually crashing.
The bathroom door opened, and he turned to see her walking toward him. She’d removed her shoes and sweater but had kept on her sexy sundress. His hands itched to drag it off her and lose himself in her body, but they needed to talk first.
“Do you want coffee?” she asked. “Or something else to drink?”
He shook his head. “No. Come here, we need to talk about something.”
A wary look came across her face, but she took his outstretched hand without question and let him lead her to the couch. Sitting, he brought her palm to his lips and kissed it. “Fancy, there’s something I need to tell you. I was holding off until we got to know each other better, and now that you’ve trusted me with your past, I need to trust you with mine.”
“O-Okay.”
He smiled, trying to put her at ease. “It’s not horrible, sweetness, but it is important to me. I just hope you can accept it and be open-minded.” His nervousness kicked in big time. He stood and paced the room but then stopped and let his gaze meet hers. It was time to man up and take the bull by the horns, so to speak. “Do you know what a Dom is, Fancy? And what a submissive is?”
Her eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped, but she didn’t say a word. Instead, she just nodded. Okay, good. . .this is a really good start. She didn’t scream and kick me out the door.
“I’ve been a Dom in the BDSM lifestyle for a long time now. No, I’m not a sadist or a masochist for that matter, but there are many parts of the lifestyle that I enjoy, and need, in my life.” He began pacing again under her silent stare, the words pouring forth, now that he’d gotten started. “I prefer to be in charge in my sexual encounters, although occasionally I don’t mind vanilla sex. And while I’m not into the Dom/slave thing, I have an innate need to care for a woman—my woman—when it comes to her protection, health, and well-being. I’m not saying I want
to tie you up right now. . .okay, that would actually be great. . .but I’m asking you to have an open mind, ask questions, research it, and maybe give it a chance—with me.”
He halted in front of Fancy, trying to decipher her expression. It was clear she was thinking things over, and as long as she wasn’t flipping out, he’d give her all the time she needed.
Patiently, he waited until she seemed to make a decision. Standing and rounding the coffee table, she approached and then shocked the shit out of him when she sank to her knees in front of him. Resting her ass on her heels, she placed her hands, palms up, on her thighs and lowered her gaze to his feet.
His mouth gaped and his cock twitched as it always did when a sub presented for him. “H-Holy shit. . .you. . .you’ve played in the lifestyle before?” If a herd of elephants suddenly stormed the room, he didn’t think he could be any more stunned than he was at that very moment. She remained silent while he gathered his composure. “When were you in the life?”
Fancy hesitated. Going down on one knee, he used his fingers to lift her chin, but her eyes were still downcast. Cupping her jaw, he tapped her cheek two times with his finger and let his voice drop into the low, rich tone any submissive would recognize. “Eyes on me, sweetness.” When her gaze finally met his, he ordered, “Now, answer me. When were you in the lifestyle?”
She swallowed hard, and her eyes shifted to the right. But he would have none of that. If she knew enough to present to him properly, then she knew to obey his command. Her gaze shot back to his when he placed his hands on either side of her head. “Look away again and there will be consequences before we go any further.” It was clear she hadn’t thought things completely through before kneeling in front of him. “But no matter what, we will be having this conversation. I’m not going to ask the question again, Fancy.”
He could tell she was fighting the urge to shift her gaze once more, but this time, her eyes stayed on his. “P-Patrick and I had been exploring for a few months before he. . .before the accident. Friends of ours were in the lifestyle for a couple of years and introduced us to it. We went to the club Spice and were taking classes there when. . .”
Her voice trailed off. At least Spice was one of the better clubs in the area, located over in St. Petersburg. He’d had a brief bit of worry they’d gone to one of the seedier clubs where the house rules were a little lax. Standing, he held out his hand, and, when she took it, helped her up from her knees. Taking a seat on the couch, he settled her on his lap. They had a lot to talk about, but at least his panic that she might kick him out was gone—thank God.
When she rested her head on his shoulder, his heart swelled. Damn, the things this woman did to him, and he loved every one of them. He let his hand rest on her bare thigh, under the hem of her dress, and his thumb caressed her skin. His other arm cradled her lower back. “You must have a ton of questions, sweetness. I have quite a few of my own, but let’s start with yours. Ask me anything you want.”
“I don’t know,” she said, her breath warming his neck and sending goosebumps across his skin. “I guess the first question I have is how long have you been a Dom and how did you get started?”
That was easy enough to answer. “I had just joined SEAL Team Four, back when I was twenty-four, almost twenty-five. Marco and I had gone through basic training together, but we were sent to different posts for a few years. Then we ended up in the same BUD/s class together—that’s the training all SEALs go through. Anyway, he’d discovered the lifestyle by that point. Quite a few guys from Team Four were in it, too. We were over in Paris, and the guys introduced me to the life. There was a great club not far from where we were staying. At first, I didn’t know what the hell to think. I had the same misconceptions a lot of people have about BDSM—you know, it’s just an elaborate lifestyle for wife beaters to hide behind.”
She snorted against his neck and he chuckled. “What can I say? I was raised in the South, went to Sunday school as a kid, and didn’t know there were more than three sexual positions before I graduated high school. At least, those were the only ones Jo Ellen Tremont let me do with her.”
She laughed, and then shifted a little in his lap. The wiggling caught the attention of his dick, but he ignored it and glanced down at Fancy. “Comfortable?”
“Uh-huh. Go on.”
He brought his one hand up to her lush breast and let his fingers stroke the underside over her dress while he continued. “Anyway, the more I observed and learned, the less I could deny that in the lifestyle was where I felt complete. I mean, my father made sure every one of his sons knew the right way to treat a woman—open doors, pull out chairs, kick someone’s ass if they were disrespecting her or worse. But my instincts went beyond that—I didn’t know there was this whole lifestyle where a woman would put her entire trust in me, once I earned it. That she would willingly put her needs and desires in my hands, and let me take care of her, to cherish her in every way possible. Tying a submissive up, and doing wild, wicked, and wonderful things to her, with her complete consent, is a big turn-on for me. But what’s an even greater turn-on is having her put her trust in me—I never knew I’d been craving that. And once I realized it, I felt like I’d finally found the last piece of the puzzle that completed my whole being. Jeez, I must sound like Sigmund Freud.”
“Not at all.” Her hand wandered over his chest and shoulders, sending heated jolts of electricity through his body. Damn, who knew this conversation was going to be a form of foreplay? “That’s why Patrick and I were attracted to the lifestyle. But I think I was looking for more out of it than he was.”
“How so?”
She shrugged. “Well, it was still so new to us, but while he was content with control in the bedroom, I think I was looking for something a little more than that. Don’t get me wrong, I loved what he did to me. . .what we did together, but there were times I wanted him to top me outside of the bedroom, too. Does that make sense? I mean, I don’t want a Dom/slave relationship because I love being independent and thinking for myself most of the time, but other times, I just want to hand over the decision-making to someone else.”
Smiling, he cuddled her closer. His heart was rejoicing over everything she was saying. If he hadn’t already been convinced they were made for each other, he would be now. “It makes perfect sense, sweetness. That’s what else I get out of the lifestyle. I need to ensure my submissive’s health and well-being are under my control, yet still allow her to have her independence. There are times I will want you to be my equal, and others when I will want your complete submission. I’ll have to get a limit list for you to complete…that is, if you’re willing to enter into a D/s relationship with me. Remember, you’re the one who sets your limits, and you’re the one with the safeword, which I will honor every day of my life.”
He shifted her ass in his lap and almost groaned when she brushed against the erection he was now sporting. “Look at me, Fancy.” When she lifted her head, her eyes finding his, he cupped her chin. “Would you consider exploring a D/s relationship with me? With an open-ended contract and a temporary collar, for now? I say ‘for now’ because I don’t want to scare you, but I plan on having you in my bed and my life for a very, very long time. The contract will be open-ended until you decide you want to renegotiate. But back to my original question—are you willing to wear my collar and come with me to The Covenant?”
Holding his breath, he waited for her answer. As long as he’d been in the lifestyle, he’d only collared two other women, and both times they’d had an end date on their contract. The first was when he’d been twenty-eight, and a friend at the club the team belonged to in Virginia had asked him to take a submissive into his temporary care. She hadn’t been a newbie but had been extremely wary about wading back into the lifestyle after a bad relationship. The bastard she’d been with had been a Dom for all the wrong reasons and had really done a number on her.
The second collared sub had been during his early thirties, and at the time, he’d
thought maybe they would agree on a closed contract eventually, but it just hadn’t worked out between them. She’d wanted to be his slave, and that was way more responsibility than he’d wanted. A slave handed over all decision making to her Dom, from what to wear and eat, to everything else. It was a life that wasn’t made for most people, and he was one of them.
But the life he did want—with a subsequent permanent collar and wedding ring—was with the woman who had yet to answer his question.
Chapter 14
Fancy’s head was spinning. While she’d recognized Brody’s alpha tendencies, she’d been shocked by his revelation. Once recovered, though, it all fell into place for her. Was this why she felt so safe with him? Why she felt cherished with everything he did for her, big or small?
The connection they seemed to have was stronger in some ways than what she and Patrick had experienced between them. And part of her was scared by that. She and her husband had been together five years before they discovered the BDSM community, and they started from scratch together. But Brody had been in the lifestyle for years. Could she be a proper submissive for him? What if she screwed up? It had been so long since she’d played, she’d forgotten many of the protocols. And what if their limit lists didn’t match up? She knew there were many different types of play she’d never experienced, much less learned about. And she was sure more play activities had become available since she’d been in the lifestyle. Kink was an ever evolving world, pushing limits to satisfy both a Dom and sub’s needs and desires. Before now, she hadn’t realized how much she missed the lifestyle she’d been in so briefly.
“Hey, sweetness, are you okay?”
She hadn’t realized her eyes had closed, and she opened them to see his face filled with concern. Smiling to reassure him everything was fine, she said, “Yes. . .Master Brody.”
His relief was evident and then her use of his title seemed to register as a grin spread across his face. “While I love all three of those words falling from your pretty lips together, I want you to clarify what you’re saying ‘yes’ to.”
Tickle His Fancy: Trident Security Book 6 (Trident Security Series) Page 13
