A Dead Man's Pulse

by Samantha A. Cole

  Ninety-six bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-six bottles of beer . . .

  He reached up and grabbed hold of the straps.

  Ninety-five bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-five bottles of beer . . .

  “I’m going to snap it a few times without striking you,” Charlotte assured him. “First within view and then behind you. After that, I’ll switch to a soft flogger to warm up your skin and bring the blood to the surface, just like I did with Jake yesterday.” She moved to his side, and held up the nine-tailed leather instrument for him to see, before letting it fall against his arm in a gentle caress. “That’s exactly what it will feel like; no harder than that. And I won’t hit you with this or the single tail without warning, okay?”

  Logan swallowed a lump of fear blocking his throat. After surviving SERE training in the military, he could do this he tried to convince himself. “Yeah, okay. I’m good.” Ninety-one bottles of beer . . .

  She brought the two ends of the whip together and doubled over the length, holding it up in her hands for him to see. “I’m going to snap it. Watch the leather and listen to the sound it makes. It’s an inanimate object. You have full control here—we just have to convince your internal fight or flight system of that fact.” When she yanked it taut, the two parts slapped together, the sound not as loud as it would be when the whip cracked at full-length. She repeated it several times, her gaze never leaving his face. “Good. Your muscles relaxed after the first few times. We’re ready to move on.” She hung the whip around her neck. “I’m going to do some joint compression next. Since you’re so much taller than me, I need you to kneel. I’d have you lay down, but the cleaning crew hasn’t been here this morning, yet, and God knows what is on the floor.”

  Letting go of the restraints, Logan lowered himself to his knees. He bowed his head when Charlotte’s strong yet baby-soft hands caressed his upper arms and shoulders. Using the heels of her palms, she pressed down, forcing the tension from his muscles and joints. Her hands never left his skin as they moved and pressed in an intermittent pattern. After about thirty of them, she then kneaded the surrounding flesh. If he wasn’t anticipating what was coming next, he might have closed his eyes and fallen into a coma.

  Giving his shoulders a final squeeze, Charlotte stepped back. “Stand and grab the restraints again. Keep your eyes on Roxy’s. Try to stay here with us.”

  His gaze met the doctor’s, and she gave him an encouraging smile. “No worries if you freak. I’ve already seen you do that, and we got through it just fine. And what happens here, stays here, Logan. Neither of us have talked to anyone else about this other than Ian, Jake, and Trudy, and that was with your permission.” Her eyes shifted behind him, and she gave her fellow Domme a nod.

  “All right, Cowboy.” Charlotte sounded much further away than he’d expected. “I’m down on the play floor by the stairs; far enough away that I can’t reach you at all. After each crack, I’m going to take a few steps closer. If you need me to slow down or stop, say yellow or red. Here comes the first one.”

  Even though he’d been warned and knew the whip couldn’t hit him from that distance, he still startled when the loud crack split the air. His muscles seized briefly, his fists tightening on the restraints that he could release at any time.

  “Breathe, Logan. You’re holding your breath. Breathe.”

  He hadn’t realized that’s what he’d been doing until Roxy pointed it out. Inhaling deeply, he slowly let it out again. Take one down, pass it around, seventy-four bottles of beer on the wall.

  “One more. Inhale, exhale.”

  After doing as he was told, he forced his muscles to relax once more, and then nodded. “I’m ready. Again.”

  Although he’d been told she’d move closer in between the target-less strikes, the next crack sounded as far away as the first. This time, he remembered to keep breathing. Sweat covered his entire body, but his gaze remained on Roxy’s face. She apparently didn’t see anything in his expression or body language that would cause her to stop the scene, since she stayed quiet. Realizing Charlotte was waiting for a word from him that she should continue, he said, “Again.”

  The sequence was repeated until Charlotte was standing on the stage once more. Logan’s knees were quivering and his pulse and breathing had increased as he fought the urge to run like a coward. His best friend’s voice resounded in his head. You can do this, Cowboy. Don’t let the bastards win. And whatever you do, don’t piss your fucking pants in front of the ladies. Yeah, that was definitely something Clutch would say.

  A soft thump sounded behind him and then Charlotte stepped to his side so he could see her again. She no longer had the whip in her hands; instead, she held up the six-tailed flogger. Running the tails up his arm, she gently caressed him. As she dragged it around his back, the leather stayed on his skin, over his shoulders to his other arm. She then lifted the handle and the tails fell less than an inch onto his arm again. Moving to his back, she did more of the same, from his shoulders to the flesh just above the waistband of his jeans and up again. Logan was surprised to feel his eyelids grow heavy as the tempo and force of the strikes intensified. They were far from painful—he’d had insect bites that had hurt worse.

  Several minutes passed, and the skin on his back tingled with the increased blood flow. His body glowed with perspiration, but he was relaxed more than he’d ever expected to be at this moment. Charlotte’s soothing voice floated to his ears. “All right, Cowboy. Stay in that zone. You’re in your happy place. You have all the control, but don’t move if you can prevent it. I’m going to crack the whip three times. If I think you’re good, the fourth one will hit your right shoulder blade. I’ll pause and make sure you’re still okay. It’ll hurt; Jake told you that, but reach past the pain and feel the heat. Ready?”

  With Charlotte’s tone of voice, Roxy’s gentle gaze, the warm-up they’d given him, Clutch’s urging to keep it together, and Dakota on the beach, wearing a white string bikini and thong, they were keeping him grounded, despite his anxiety and fear. “Ready.”

  The first loud crack sounded, and he stiffened but didn’t move. Roxy inhaled deeply and Logan followed suit, letting it out slowly.

  Crack.

  Logan’s jaw tightened. Happy place. Happy place. Dakota’s hands went to the string around her neck.

  Crack.

  Jesus Christ, this is it.

  Seconds ticked by. Logan heard the crack before he felt the strike. The tip of the whip licked his shoulder blade, right where the Domme had said it would. It felt like he’d gotten stung by hundreds of bees at the same time. His fist clenched as he rose up on the balls of his feet. “Shit!”

  “Breathe, Logan,” Roxy prompted. “In and out . . . that’s good . . . again. Find your happy place. The heat of the sun is on your back. That’s what you feel. It’s warm and spreading across your skin, covering your entire back. Start with your hands and relax your muscles down your arms to your torso, then legs and feet. Breathe.”

  Swallowing hard, he opened his hands, willing each muscle in his body to relax one by one, until he was once again, flat on his feet. He inhaled through his nose and out his mouth, concentrating on Dakota’s bikini dropping from her breasts. Damn, they were incredible—round, firm, and begging for his attention.

  “Here we go, Cowboy. Left shoulder blade. Ready?” When he only nodded, Charlotte added, “Verbal response, love. Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  A second or two later, the whip stroked his skin again. This time, in addition to feeling the sting of the bees, he heard them, but it sounded like their numbers had multiplied into the thousands. A hiss escaped his lips, and while he rolled forward on the balls of his feet, he immediately brought his heels back down. He didn’t need Roxy’s encouragement, breathing in and out, pushing the pain away as Dakota’s hands went to the strings holding her thong to her hips.

  As the scene progressed and the whip caressed his skin over and over, his mind floated—in fact, it
felt like his entire body began to float. His cock was hard as a rock and he wasn’t sure if it was from the subspace he was achieving or because Dakota was now gloriously naked on the beach in front of him. Her sun-bronzed skin, high perky tits, and waxed pussy were pure perfection. She held her hand out to him, beckoning him to come closer. Cowboy. He tried to step forward, but something was preventing him from doing so. Cowboy. Her tongue darted out to wet her—

  “Cowboy. It’s over. Step back, love.”

  It took Logan a moment to realize it hadn’t been Dakota calling his name, but Charlotte. His body and mind tingled as he released the restraints, lowering his arms. The two Dommes stood on either side of him, holding him by his upper arms and the belt loops of his pants, as Roxy said, “Sit down, Logan. The chair is right behind you. Just bend your knees and sit.”

  Once he was in the chair, one of them covered him with a soft blanket, but in his mind, it was Dakota’s long hair draped over his skin, teasing him. His eyelids closed, and he let her embrace and comfort him.

  C

  HAPTER 14

  Dakota stared out the tinted window of the SUV she and Logan had been using to covertly observe the members of Heat coming and going each night for the past week. Stakeouts were the most boring part of undercover work, but although she wouldn’t admit it to him, she’d been enjoying the shifts, sitting across the center console from him. After the first few training classes and the club stakeouts that started two days later, she’d become more relaxed around him. They spent the hours in the parking garage across the street from the private club talking about all sorts of things—their careers, movies, books, and the lifestyle, among other topics. They also busted each other’s chops, experienced spirited arguments, laughed over funny experiences, talked about the case, and even had moments of comfortable silence. The only subject Dakota had avoided was her family. She’d told him the bare minimum, hoping to satisfy his curiosity—her father was a retired cop, her mother had passed away, and she had one brother—end of story.

  Although Logan had been talkative about his time with the Marines and Trident, she had a feeling there was a lot he hadn’t told her. Well, he’d mentioned he’d been in the elite Raiders and couldn’t talk about most of his missions, just like the Navy SEALs and the Army’s Delta Force, which she understood, but she got the feeling he was holding something else back. There’d been times his voice had strayed from its normal, relaxed tone to a tense one, before he cleared his throat and changed the subject.

  “I’m hungry,” he said, reaching for the cooler filled with drinks, sandwiches, and snacks they’d been stashing in the back seat after their first tour outside the club. “Want your turkey club, Koko?”

  Drumming her fingers on the armrest, she nodded, not even bothering to correct him yet again. She was actually getting used to the nickname he’d been calling her the past few days. He’d said it sounded more personal, something her Dom and lover would be calling her, for when they started going into the clubs. “Yeah, sure. As long as you’re back there. Thanks.”

  “No prob.” He had to lean toward her to rummage around and grab the sandwiches, and Dakota inhaled his scent as subtly as possible. Damn, he smelled delicious. To hell with the sandwich, she’d rather eat him. Oh jeez, I did not just think that. Yup, she had, and the thought made her damp between her legs and started her clit throbbing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his soft, brown hair and longed to thrust her fingers into the strands. Get a grip, Dakota. He’s your partner and off-limits. Yeah, trying to convince her body of that fact was getting harder each day—hell, each hour.

  Trying to get her lust under control, she forced her mind to think of something else. Unfortunately, what popped up was what her father had been bitching about earlier in the day. One of his buddies still on the department had told him she was on loan to SOD.

  “What are you doing in SOD? It’s not like patrol where you’ve got a partner sitting next to you to bail you out of trouble. You’ve got to think fast, otherwise you can blow a whole investigation, not to mention getting yourself killed.”

  “What’s that frown for?” Logan asked.

  She glanced at him to see he was holding the sandwich out for her to take. “Thanks . . . um, nothing really.”

  “Didn’t look like nothing. Talk to me, Koko. It’ll feel good to get whatever it is off your chest. It’ll also kill some time. A lot of my intel missions had to be done in radio silence so it’s kind of nice having someone to talk to.”

  “What part of ‘no tomatoes’ did they not understand?” She picked them off and dropped them on the white butcher paper the sub had been wrapped in. When he didn’t answer her rhetorical question, she shrugged. Before she could stop them, the words flew from her lips. “My father’s an ass.”

  “In general or about something specific?”

  “A little of both, I guess.” Why she was telling him this she had no idea, but it felt right, having a strong shoulder to dump on. “I’ve been trying to prove to him for years that I’m good enough to be on TPD, but he wanted my brother to be the cop. Me? I was supposed to marry a guy who could take care of me, because I obviously can’t take care of myself.”

  Swallowing a bite of his roast beef Logan snorted. “Not from where I sit. There’s only two other women I’ve sparred with over the years who could throw me on my ass. You’re number three and I’m man enough to admit that. You can cover my six anytime.”

  As long as I can keep my eyes off your fine ass and on the task at hand. “Thanks, that means a lot.” She paused. “I just wish for once he would say he’s proud of me, you know? Things got worse after my mother passed away. Instead of her death bringing us closer, it pushed us further apart.”

  Reaching over, Logan gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry to hear that. Death screws different people in different ways, whether it’s from guilt or grief or whatever. I know from personal experience.” Taking his hand back, he stared out the windshield and she immediately missed the intimate connection.

  “Friend or family member?”

  “Friends—plural. Teammates. People I knew like the back of my hand and others I had only known a few hours before seeing them blown to bits or shot down. That cliché ‘war is hell’ is one of the biggest understatements out there.”

  “I’m sorry.” He shrugged at her sympathy and seconds of silence ticked by. They had enough of a downer conversation for the night and she searched for a topic they hadn’t discussed yet that would lighten the mood. “So, being from Virginia, does that mean you’re a Baltimore Orioles fan or Washington Nationals fan?”

  “Baseball, huh?” He smirked. “You know what they say when people start talking about baseball? What they’re really talking about is sex.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she almost choked on a bite of her sandwich.

  “Think again, Cowboy. I really am talking about baseball—smart ass.” She rolled her eyes which drew a throaty laugh from him and just like that her hormones started raging again.

  The rest of the shift was filled with mindless but fun chatter as they got to know each other better. With each hour that passed, she found herself becoming more and more attracted to her partner, which scared the heck out of her and turned her on at the same time. When the last of the employees of the club locked the doors for the night, Logan started the SUV and drove her back to the condo complex, parking in a spot closest to her unit. Dakota allowed him to climb out of his truck, walk around to her side, and open the passenger door for her, as any good submissive would do. In the past, she’d found it difficult to let a man open doors, pull out a chair for her, situate himself between her and the road on a sidewalk, or perform any other act of chivalry, not wanting to appear the weaker sex. In the clubs and bedroom were fine, but out in the real world, she was always trying to prove to her father, co-workers, and anyone else that she was as tough as nails and didn’t need their help. God forbid her fellow officers thought she couldn’t handle being their
backup. But with Logan doing those things, Dakota felt . . . well, pampered. He truly seemed to enjoy doing them; he was a natural Dom, not giving things like that a second thought. She found herself wondering about his parents. They sounded like a great couple from what he’d told her, and they had obviously done a great job raising him and his sister, who Dakota had learned was an elementary school nurse.

  As she took the hand he offered to get out of the truck, she felt that tingling and awareness she always did at his touch, which was never more than innocent, despite his occasional flirting. What the hell was it going to be like when they entered the club and there would be a lot more physical contact for their cover?

  When they reached her temporary condo, Logan took the keys from her hand and unlocked the door, before handing them back to her. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet during last night’s tour, but tonight he seemed back to normal. She was curious about what had caused the personality shift.

  “So,” he began, stuffing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans while staring intently at her. It seemed as if he was trying to resist touching her and that just made her crave it even more. “Tomorrow night, we head into the club. Thankfully, I’m a lot less nervous about it. I—I just want to thank you for helping me understand the lifestyle better and not get mad or laugh at all my questions. I appreciate it.”

  The whole time he was talking, Dakota’s gaze had been on his mouth; she was dying to know if they tasted as good as they looked. Were they firm or soft? Only one way to find out. Throwing caution to the wind, she went up on her toes, grabbed the front of his T-shirt, and kissed him full on the mouth. She didn’t know which one of them was more surprised. She was rarely the aggressor when it came to physical contact with a man, being a sexual submissive and all, but she didn’t want to wait any longer to find out if what she was feeling was only one-sided. After a moment’s hesitation, Logan grabbed her hips and pulled her flush against him; his erection was impossible to miss. Pivoting, he sandwiched her between his body and the door, trapping her, not that she minded at all. One of his hands skimmed around to her ass and cupped it, while the other rose to her nape, his fingers delving into her hair and tilting her head to his liking. His mouth devoured her, his tongue slipping between her lips the second she parted them. A moan sounded and Dakota had no idea if it had come from him or herself.