by Lili Valente
Table of Contents
Title Page
All Rights Reserved
ABOUT THE BOOK
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Acknowledgements
Tell Lili your favorite part!
About the Author
Also By Lili Valente
DEEP DOMINATION
Bought by the Billionaire
Book Two
By Lili Valente
All Rights Reserved
Copyright Deep Domination © 2015 Lili Valente
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This erotic romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy hot, sexy, emotional novels featuring Dominant alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work. Cover design by Bootstrap Designs. Editorial services provided by Leone Editorial.
ABOUT THE BOOK
WARNING: This is one deep, dark, hard-spanking, dirty-talking read. Are you ready?
Hannah is in too deep, falling steadily under Jackson’s erotic control. It doesn’t matter that he’s her captor and tormentor. She lives for the nights when he draws her deeper into his world, teaching her the thrill of submission
Pain and pleasure. Love and hate. Him and her.
Jackson is falling—remembering why he couldn’t get enough of the woman who destroyed him—but so is she. Soon, he’ll reach Hannah’s hard limit and her obedient façade will fall away, exposing the monster he’s hunted across three continents.
But soon a shocking revelation interrupts their dark and twisted game and Jackson is left wondering who is the true monster.
Deep Domination is the 2nd in the Bought by the Billionaire serial romance series. For maximum enjoyment it should be read after book one.
Dedicated to my Street Team, the sweetest
bunch of naughty-hero-loving women around.
CHAPTER ONE
Six Years Ago
Jackson
They had only been in the stuffy room at the end of the hall for half an hour, but Jackson was already sweating beneath his clothes and dangerously close to losing his shit.
The interrogation was a joke. It was clear, that in the minds of the two military police officers charged with getting his side of the story, he had already been tried and convicted. He didn’t know either of them, but they weren’t hard to read. The older, red-headed man with the crooked nose wanted to pound Jackson unconscious and his partner—a young, fuzzy-haired brunette who barely looked old enough to have graduated from the academy—alternated between flushing red with anger and paling with disgust.
And fear. She was afraid of him, too.
He could see it in her eyes when her guard faltered. She was horrified by what she was certain he’d done. She was also scared of what might have happened to her if she’d encountered him on one of the more far-flung Quantico trails, deep in the forest where no one could have heard her scream as he’d forced himself on her.
As he’d raped her.
The thought made his stomach roil and bile rush up the back of his throat. He would never do that to a woman, any woman, let alone the woman he loved. Being questioned in connection with something like this was deeply disturbing, but the fact that he was accused of violating Harley was just…too much.
He felt dizzy, sick, and panicked, but also strangely above it all, like a ghost hovering in the air watching a man with dark circles under his eyes protest that he was innocent.
It was all so fucking bizarre.
He’d spent the past two days grieving Harley with an intensity that had left his insides black and blue, crying himself to sleep and wishing he never had to wake up again. All he wanted was for her to be alive, even if it meant she was married to Clay and he would never get to hold her again, never taste her skin or hear the breathy sound she made at the back of her throat as he pushed inside her.
He still loved her, and ached for her so deeply he worried the pain might kill him. He would never have hurt her—never.
He’d said as much to the MPs at least half a dozen times, but it bore repeating until these people got the message.
“It doesn’t matter if anyone can confirm whether or not I was at home asleep four nights ago,” he said, cutting off the red-haired officer in the middle of his latest monologue.
The man and his partner both had nametags on their uniforms, but Jackson couldn’t seem to focus long enough to make sense of the letters stitched in black on gray. The entire morning had been too surreal, from the time the officers knocked on his front door to the moment he learned he was being questioned in connection with the rape of Harley Garrett.
“I didn’t rape Harley. I love her.” The reality that she was no longer alive to love hit him all over again, making it hard to swallow past the fist of emotion shoving up his throat.
“I loved her,” he continued, his voice hoarse. “So much. I would never have hurt her. And if she were here right now she’d tell you that. She’d tell you everything we did was consensual.”
“So you believe Miss Garrett was a truthful woman?” the female officer asked. She was pale now, not flushed, but Jackson was too frustrated to wonder if that was a good sign or a bad one.
“Yes,” he said, shaking his head as he realized that wasn’t the truth, no matter how much he wanted it to be. “I thought so, anyway. She always seemed to be when we were together. But two days ago I learned that she was engaged to my best friend. They’d been dating behind my back for months so…”
He ran a clawed hand through his hair with a harsh sigh, trying not to think about the fact that Clay was gone, too. Clay, who had been his best friend since basic training and saved his life more than once. Clay, who would have been the first and only person he would have turned to at a time like this, the only person in his life he’d trusted with all of his secrets.
“So maybe she wasn’t always truthful,” he continued. “But she would have told you the truth about this.”
“Why’s that?” The woman—Pearson according to her name tag, though he would probably forget that the second he glanced away—lifted her unplucked brows. “Was she afraid to contradict you?”
Jackson balled his hands into fists on top of the table, fighting to keep the anger f
rom his voice. “Because she was the one who wanted to experiment with being submissive. She’s the one who wanted things rough.” He lifted his chin and relaxed his fists, ignoring the doubt he could feel seething toward him from the other side of the table. “She wanted to take things even further, for me to gag her and use a whip that would leave marks on her skin, but I told her no.”
“Why?” Pearson pressed.
“I wasn’t ready to go that far until we had a serious commitment.”
“You only hurt the ones you love?” the male officer asked with a barely controlled sneer.
“Because power exchange can be dangerous,” Jackson said, not bothering to keep the condescension from his tone. “I’ve been involved in these kind of relationships before, but Harley was new to the lifestyle. I needed to know that she trusted me to take care of her and help her learn her limits. Like I said, I didn’t want to hurt her.”
He sat still, forcing himself to hold the gaze of first Pearson and then her older, meaner counterpart without flinching, resisting the urge to fill the silence. He’d offered enough explanation. If there was something they didn’t understand, they could ask.
There was nothing perverted or wrong about what Harley had wanted—or in his need to make sure he was entering into a relationship in the way he felt was safest for a new-to-the-scene submissive. Giving your will over to another person for the first time can be overwhelming. Both the Dom and sub need to have similar expectations and be committed to working through the process together from the start.
He’d had doubts Harley was ready to submit to another person’s control—she was so stubborn and didn’t always seem to enjoy it when he started giving orders in the bedroom. But after the way she’d responded to him the night he’d climbed through her window, his doubts had faded away.
She had been so perfect, so vulnerable and honest and sexy as hell.
For the first time, he’d seen all the way to the heart of her, and known it was safe to tell her that he loved her. Because she loved him, too. She was scared and she had secrets and pain she tried so hard to hide, but deep down she was ready to take the first steps toward abandoning control. To him and only him. She was ready to hand over her power and let him help her find a way to be free of the things that haunted her.
As he’d kissed her goodbye he’d been certain they were on their way to something special.
Instead, it was the last time he would ever see her alive.
“I loved her,” he said again, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. “And now she’s gone and I just…” He sucked in a shallow breath, willing himself not to break down. “I don’t understand why this is happening.”
“Maybe this will shed some light on that for you.” Red turned to press play on the DVD player behind him.
The television sat on a dull gray portable stand and had already been in the room when Jackson was led in. He’d assumed it was part of the standard furnishings of the drab interrogation room, along with the chipped table, squeaky chairs, and the plastic water cooler in the corner.
But he’d been wrong. The television was there for him; he knew it the moment Harley’s face flickered onto the screen.
His first reaction to seeing her tear-streaked face was joy—to see her again, to see her talking, animated, alive—followed closely by grief and then rage.
Someone had hurt her. Badly. Her face was swollen from crying and her big blue eyes darted back and forth, unable to look directly at the person questioning her on the other side of the table. She was trembling so badly he could hear the legs of her chair rattling on the floor, a soft, percussive accompaniment to her words.
To the nightmarish words spilling out of her pretty mouth.
Comprehension hit like a bolt of lightning, sudden and shocking. Jackson’s lips parted, but no sound came. His throat closed and all the blood in his body seemed to rush away, leaving him drained and freezing in the room that, only a moment ago, had felt too warm.
But that was before he’d heard Harley describing a date on the beach they’d never had, before he’d watched her lifting her shirt to reveal bruises he hadn’t given her. Before she’d sworn that he’d raped her again and again, until she could barely stand and had been forced to call an ex-boyfriend to drive her to the police station after Jackson allegedly left her bleeding in the sand.
He watched the tape in stupefied silence and remained mute for several long minutes after Pearson turned off the television and stopped the DVD.
How…
How could she? How could she have done this?
How could she have told such horrible lies about him when all he’d ever wanted to do was love and protect her?
There had to be some mistake, some explanation.
She was confused. That was it. It had been dark on the beach that night. Maybe she hadn’t seen her attacker’s face, maybe he’d grabbed her from behind or—
Stop it!
She knew your body, your touch. She would have known it wasn’t you, even if she were blindfolded.
She’s lying on purpose.
She’s lying on purpose.
Finally, as his mind continued to echo the terrible truth over and over—like a scratched record stuck on repeat—and his heart continued to break he found his voice. “I didn’t do it. She’s lying. I don’t know why, but it’s all a lie.”
Red leaned in, his brown eyes flat and cold. “You might want to rethink that line of defense. The DNA results from the rape kit came in last night. We pulled yours from the Marine database. They’re an exact match.”
Jackson shook his head, anger and confusion warring inside of him. “But we always used a condom. Every single time except…”
His eyes widened as the flaw in Harley’s story suddenly became abundantly clear. “Those bruises were fake! Make-up or something. I saw her two nights ago, right before the crash. We slept together and she was fine. Every inch of her was clear and bruise-free. I swear there wasn’t a mark on her.”
“Do you have any evidence to support that?” Pearson asked, writing something in the tiny notebook she’d brought into the room, not even bothering to offer eye contact.
“No,” he said, voice tight. “Why would I? I was with my girlfriend, who I thought was in love with me. I didn’t think I’d have any reason to need to prove I hadn’t beaten her to within an inch of her life.”
He paused, watching Pearson show the note on her pad to Red, who nodded smugly.
“What is going on here?” Jackson asked, volume rising. “I’m being framed for a felony and you’re buying a woman’s lie without even giving me the benefit of the doubt. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Watch your mouth, soldier,” Red said. “Everything you say in this room is admissible in court. You’re the one who agreed to be questioned without an attorney.”
Jackson clenched his teeth until his jaw was so tight it felt like the muscles were about to snap in two. “I’ve changed my mind,” he finally ground out. “I want a lawyer. Now.”
“We’ll have a phone brought in for you. Might as well settle in, Staff Sergeant Hawke. You’re going to be here for a while.” Pearson smiled, a cold, victorious smile that made Jackson loathe her more than he did already, but not as much as he loathed Harley.
As much as he should loathe Harley.
She had conned him, played him, and framed him for a crime he didn’t commit, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate her.
Not that day. Or the next day, or the next.
But by the time he was sitting in a courtroom in front of a judge pronouncing him guilty of rape, he had begun to hate Harley Garrett with the same passion with which he’d loved her.
When the judge declared that he would be dishonorably discharged, stripped of all rank and pay, and sentenced to eighteen months in a military prison, the last ounce of his affection for Harley shriveled and died, leaving nothing in his heart except a burning hatred. His hatred was a roaring fire that he woul
d stoke every day he spent behind bars, tempering himself in the flames until he was as heartless and remorseless as the woman who had ruined him.
The woman who had sentenced a man whose only crime had been loving the wrong girl to a fate worse than death.
He would never be the same. He would never love or trust anyone ever again. He would never be the man he was before.
That man was dead.
Harley had killed him and now all that was left was to return the favor.
CHAPTER TWO
Present Day
Hannah
Her stranger was clearly angry—furious—but Hannah couldn’t have stopped the smile blossoming across her face if she’d tried.
It was really him, him, the man she’d tried to convince herself she wasn’t obsessed with for six long years. The stranger who had laid claim to her body, captured her imagination, and haunted her dreams.
No…he had haunted her awakenings.
In her dreams, one glimpse of his face and she was electrified by pleasure. In dreams she was transported to the heaven of his arms, blessed by belonging to him in a way she’d never belonged to anyone, not even herself. It was waking up and realizing that the one night they’d shared had been a lie and that she would never see him again that was hell.
She’d always known that night was a lie, but now maybe he knew it too.
Maybe that’s why he’d come for her. Her smile vanished so quickly it sent a flash of discomfort through her cheeks.
Hannah stared up at him, watching his jaw clench and storm clouds roll in behind his dark eyes. She cringed, wishing she could melt through the floor or that she at least had a blanket to pull across her body to shield her nakedness. But the polished hardwood held firm beneath her back and she remained exposed to her stranger, his release cooling on her bare chest as he glared down at her, his hands tightening into fists.
