by Livia Grant
Was it possible he’d been wrong about her? He wouldn’t have taken her for a thief, but she had lied about her safe word. To him, that was a worse crime than stealing. Keeping himself still, he decided to wait and see what her note said.
If he didn’t like what she’d written, Black Light security would have all her information. He’d wash his hands of her and let them deal with it.
Jafari heard the faint sound of her bare feet on the carpet, then a fragrant whiff of her perfume wafted into his nose as she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. A few seconds later, the door opened and shut behind her.
Getting up, he retrieved the note, frowning as he read.
Jafari,
I took five hundred dollars from your wallet because I’m homeless and broke, and I absolutely have to be in Kentucky yesterday. I wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been an emergency, but I promise I’ll pay you back.
I’ll understand if you don’t want anything to do with me after this, but please wait to call the police until I can fix things.
You gave me my first real kiss, and no matter what happens, I’ll never forget it.
“Oh, little rabbit,” he murmured, tracing the digits of the license plate number she’d written on the bottom of the page. She’d made it too easy, but he supposed she expected him to press charges.
Of course, by the time he was finished with her, she might wish he had. If he’d had the slightest idea how precarious her living situation was, she’d have already been in Napa and tied to his bed.
Thumbing his phone awake, he brought up Jaxson Cartwright-Davidson’s contact, a little surprised when it was answered on the first ring.
“This better be good, Laurent,” Jaxson growled. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“I have a favor to ask, in exchange for a lifetime supply of the pinot grigio your lovely wife likes so much.”
“You have my attention. Speak.”
“I wish for your security guards to stop the blonde woman trying to leave the property. She was my partner for Roulette, has curly hair, and is wearing a black dress. You may tell your guards to restrain her if she objects.”
“Hold on,” Jaxson grumbled, and the phone went silent for a minute or so. Jafari listened to the empty air on the phone while Jaxson gave the orders, and then his voice returned. “Anything else?” Jaxson demanded.
He peered outside, scowling when he saw Kacy race to a battered blue sedan sitting by itself in the parking lot. She couldn’t possibly expect the elderly vehicle to make it that far. It wouldn’t be safe for her and the thought of her living in it made him furious. He briefly considered chartering a jet, but the extended road trip would give them plenty of time to get to know each other and introduce her to some of the less pleasant things in his play bag.
“I’m in need of a vehicle. May I borrow yours?”
“Depends. Is there a crime involved?”
“Perhaps a small kidnapping, but the lady in question will probably like it and it truly is in her best interest.”
“Throw in a few cases of that cab you gave us for the silent auction, and you have yourself a deal, as long as the lady doesn’t give a safe word.”
“Done. Have your guards put her in the passenger seat, please, and if you would be so kind, ask the kitchen for coffee and pastries to go.”
“All right. Have a safe trip and try not to wreck my car.”
“Don’t you want to know where we’re going?”
“No. I’m claiming plausible deniability.”
The call dropped abruptly, but Jafari didn’t mind. Taking his time, he dressed in jeans and a sweater, then packed his belongings.
His play bag over one shoulder and suitcase in hand, he sauntered down the stairs, then exited through the main Runway entrance. A Mercedes SUV was parked at the apex of the curved driveway, with Kacy bound and gagged in the passenger seat. There was a travel mug in each cup holder, and a white pastry box in the back seat.
She looked furious and scared—exactly how he wanted her. After stowing his luggage in the cargo area, he handed his key card to one of the guards, then climbed in the driver’s side.
“I’m hurt,” he murmured, easing the ball gag from her mouth. “Am I coyote ugly, and you wish to chew your arm off to escape?”
“Jafari, I—”
“Shh.” He cupped her cheek, then placed a gentle kiss on her lips, retreating before she had a chance to protest. “It’s okay.”
“I stole from you,” she whispered, lowering her head.
“And I think you had good reason.”
Straightening her shoulders, she looked up, meeting his eyes. It was a common misconception that submissives were weak, easily led, and malleable. It was a lie.
His lady was fiercely angry, determined, and absolutely unwilling to give an inch.
“I do.”
“Very well.” He drove to her car and parked next to it. Using a penknife, he cut the zip ties holding her wrists and ankles. “Get what you need for our trip. Everything else will be safe where it is.”
She turned to him, her eyes wide. “Our… No, Jafari, you can’t come with me. What about your—”
“You’re not going by yourself, and certainly not in your car. It isn’t safe.” Getting out, he rounded the hood, then opened her door. “Be a good girl and get your things.”
“It’s going to take us at least two weeks,” she protested. “I can’t let you drop everything to deal with my problems.”
“Or I can punish you right here in this parking lot until you agree. If you make me get out a cane, you’ll be wearing that e-stim plug for two thousand miles.”
She gasped softly and her eyes widened. After a moment of indecision, she nodded and let him help her out, then opened the trunk.
Her car was so full, he wondered where she curled up to sleep. Boxes and laundry baskets filled the tiny back seat, and the trunk was crammed tight with her belongings.
The thought of her spending one more night on the streets was untenable, and he reached for his phone, intending to have her vehicle moved to Napa. Thinking better of it, he loaded her two suitcases, then held the door while she climbed into the Mercedes.
As much as he wanted her in his house, it was too soon. They needed time to learn about each other before he started making unilateral decisions about her living arrangements. The long drive to Kentucky would be the perfect opportunity.
“I really am sorry, sir,” she murmured.
“Don’t worry.” He waved at the guard as they left the property. “You’ll be making it up to me on our trip.”
She flushed and bit her lip, making him want to pull it from between her teeth. “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl. So, Kentucky?”
She stared at him for a moment, then said, “Yeah.”
“And what shall we do when we get there?”
She looked straight ahead, her jaw firming. “Drink bourbon and kick some asses.”
THE END… or is it? Jafari and Kacy’s story isn’t over yet. Coming in Q4, 2021 will be a full-length Black Light book by Raisa Greywood. Watch for the pre-order.
About the Author
Raisa Greywood:
Author of filthy smut, empty nester, and cat snuggler.
Raisa has worked as a teacher, an actuary (her husband called her a bookie—which isn’t too far from the truth), mother, and scout leader. She’s happily married to her husband of twenty-six years, and is now enjoying semi-retirement writing the books she always wanted to read with kick-ass heroines and sexy, sexy men.
Links
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/raisa_greywood
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/raisa-greywood
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorRaisaGreywood
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Website: https://raisagreywood.com/
Personal newsletter
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e a sneak peek of what I’m working on next? Sign up for my newsletter at https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/r6i5p5 to receive a free story.
Also by Raisa Greywood
Bridgewater Brides
Their Wanted Bride
Cocky Hero Club
Sexy Scoundrel
Dad Bod Doms
Henry
Happily Never After (written with Sinistre Ange)
Demon Lust
Blood Lust
Holiday Daddy Doms
Jennifer’s Christmas Daddy
A Valentine for Chelsea
Treats for Lucia
Zinnia’s Solstice Daddy (Coming June, 2021)
Standalone Titles & Anthologies
Bastard’s New Baby
Ladder 54: Five Firefighter Romances
Masters of the Castle: Witness Protection Program
Black Light: Roulette Rematch
Breaking Donatella (Coming March, 2021)
Bareback
A Black Light: Roulette Rematch Novella
By
Shane Starrett
Chapter 1
Davis
“You chickening out, Captain?”
Davis—Captain Benjamin Davis—took his eyes off the road long enough to stare at his cell phone. The thing was clamped into a dash holder, and he was glad it was on voice-only so Spencer Cook—his supposed friend—couldn’t see the look on his face nor the raised middle finger.
“For fuck’s sake, Spencer. What the hell makes you say that?” Davis turned his eyes back to the freeway in front of him. He was an hour out of Fort Irwin, California—home of the Desert Warfare Training Center where he was currently stationed—heading toward L.A. to a place called Black Light.
“Your line of questioning, Captain, suggests… hesitancy. And a whole lotta ‘should I really be doing this?’”
“That’s bullshit, Spencer, and you know it.”
“It is not, and you know it. ‘Does that sound like appropriate clothing for the event? Does that seem like sufficient gear to cover all the kinks that could be rolled? Is my security clearance adequate?’”
“Oh, fuck the hell off,” Davis cut in. “I never said shit about my clearance rating. You’re just making up crap now.” Davis gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, and not because of the semi he’d just swerved around to overtake. “And the rest of those were just questions.”
“Yeah? And coming from you, Captain, they speak volumes. You are not a man who re-asks questions about things we went over months ago when I suggested you sign up for Roulette.”
“I’m a day out from the event, and I just wanted final clarification. Surely even a jarhead like you,”—Davis heard the growl, but barreled over it—“should be able to understand that.”
“I’m going to fucking let that slide once, Captain. Once.”
Seconds went by in tense silence, and Davis knew if he didn’t restart the conversation soon Spencer would simply hang up. That the Dungeon Master of Black Light East had answered his call was not something to be taken lightly, and the man did not suffer fools gladly—or people who wasted his time.
“So,” Davis blew out a sigh. “I may have some shit on my mind.”
“Really?”
“Spencer, don’t bust my balls right now, okay?”
“Then don’t fucking play me like you have been the last twenty minutes,” the man snapped back.
“Fair enough.” Davis watched the desert waver in the afternoon sunlight. “How old were you when you got your paper?”
The ‘paper’ in question was a DD-214, the Honorable Discharge every soldier received when they got out of the service. There was silence over the line, and Davis figured the question had caught the man off guard.
“Twenty-eight,” Spencer finally came back, his voice cautious.
“And you were already with Klara?”
“No. That didn’t happen until I was out and working for Jaxson and Chase at Black Light. I met Klara in the club. Listen, short-form this for me, Captain: what the hell is going on?”
“Just…” Davis let out a long sigh. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About where I am, and where I want to be. My CO is pushing me to work toward another promotion, but honestly…” Davis stared out the window at the dull tan-gray landscape that stretched to either side of the thin asphalt line ahead of him.
“You’re thinking about things that have nothing to do with gaining rank. Or with your career in general. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Quiet filled the interior of the car, the slight hum of road noise the only sound.
“Yeah.” Davis blew out a sigh. “He pointed out I have ten years left until I bounce. And while that doesn’t sound long, I’ll be forty-eight. Even taking into account all that prime-of-my life bullshit, when I think about what he has—what you have—and what it’s gonna take for me to find something like that, especially considering certain factors in my life of a kink-related nature…” Davis grunted. “What if in the end all I’m doing is wasting my time trying to get to major or lieutenant colonel when in ten more years the things I really want may be completely out of my reach?”
“Nothing is going to be out of your reach, Captain. That’s some pity party bullshit right there, so let’s just shut that down, okay? The community isn’t going to disappear in ten years, nor the lifestyle, nor whoever it is you’re looking for out there.”
“That’s just it, Spencer. I don’t know who I’m looking for.”
“Said every kinkster ever. Listen, Davis, you’re an experienced Dom. I know you must have some idea of what you’re looking for in a sub. Your only issue is you haven’t found that person yet because your chances to play are few and far between. Now, tell me that isn’t the truth.”
“Maybe. But that’s the thing. Jessup got married while he was still in, and younger than I am. And you met Klara about the same age I am right now.”
“Kink couples get married all the time. Klara and I did just last year, as you well know. When the time comes, it’ll happen. You won’t be special.”
Davis flexed his fingers around the steering wheel. “I’ve been thinking a lot about certain things. Things I want to try with someone. Experiences I want to have. And here’s the thing: I’m not sure the way I want to go about it includes a wife, or a little house in the ’burbs with a picket fence, or all the stuff that goes with that. Like you said, I know what I like. I know what I want. What I don’t know is if there’s really someone out there who wants those same things too.”
Davis stared out the windshield. He wasn’t sure why he was unloading all this on Spencer right now, other than the man had served, even if it was in the Marines. Plus, he was in the lifestyle, and he and Davis had become acquaintances, if not friends of a sort. He’d called Davis on his bullshit before and right now there wasn’t anyone else Davis could think of who’d understand the thoughts plaguing him.
“What makes you think the things you like aren’t shared by a million other kinksters out there? You some kind of special Dom who discovered a new fetish the rest of us missed?”
“Don’t be a dick,” Davis growled.
“Well then stop crying me a river with your ‘boo-hoo I’m never gonna find someone’ sob story and tell me what’s so fucking special about you.” Spencer’s voice was a challenge.
“I… I keep thinking about coming inside some sub. Without birth control.”
There was a pause.
“That’s… it?” Spencer’s voice choked. “That’s your big reveal? Jesus Christ, Davis. Browser history full of impreg vids much?”
“Goddammit, Spencer…”
“Well, tell me I’m wrong, Captain. Tell me I misunderstood what you were saying. Tell me it was something other than you having a fantasy of knocking someone up.”
“No!” Davis retorted, glancing at the phone again as if Spencer could see him. He rolled his head, tension clenching at the muscles across his back. “And… yes. It�
��s hard to explain.”
“You’ve got an impreg fetish, Davis. You, and about umpty-million other guys. I mean, I want you to seriously be honest with me: you really think this is something unique? You think you’re the only guy out there who whacks off to this? Because if that’s the case, I’m here to tell you, you couldn’t be more wrong.”
“Yeah? Well, I didn’t exactly notice it on the list of things I’d be rolling for tomorrow night.”
“No, you did not. And you know why? Because the fantasy of impregnating a woman is one thing, but when you start talking about taking it beyond fantasy—and I’m pretty sure that’s what you’re talking about, Captain, or we wouldn’t even be having this conversation—it comes with a huge amount of responsibility. It’s risky as fucking hell, and the reality is it’s the submissive who ultimately bears the burden if she does get pregnant. There’s an entire host of legal and ethical issues that would come into play with putting impreg on one of the roulette slots, and while Jaxson and Chase have outstanding legal representation, I can just imagine the howls of laughter if I were to even suggest it.”
Spencer blew out a sigh. “We already have roleplay on there—if couples want to play out that particular fantasy, they can have at it. But as far as actually trying to include impregnation kink for Valentine Roulette.” Spencer went quiet, and Davis could picture him shaking his head. “Not a fucking chance in hell.”
“Well”—Davis blew out a lungful of air—“that’s probably all it will ever be anyway: an unfulfilled fantasy. And I should be okay with that, but…”
“We’re kinksters because for us it needs to go beyond that. That’s why clubs like Black Light exist. So we can, even if it’s only once in a while, turn those fantasies into reality.” Spencer went quiet for a moment. “Listen, your particular fetish is def on the high-end of Risk Aware Consensual Kink. But here’s the thing: it’s not the only kink that is. And I can guarantee you there’s someone out there of the female persuasion who shares it with you. You just need to find them.”
