Handcuffed by Her Hero

by Angel Payne

  Fate wasn’t so kind with the next moment. Or the next.

  There was a saying on the squad that they had for times like these. He spat it out from frozen lips.

  “This hell doesn’t want your sorry ass, fucker. Keep the boots moving.”

  Chapter Four

  This was going to be one of the best nights of her life. She refused to accept anything less. After all, she’d waited six years, three months, two weeks and four days for it.

  With that thought, Luna Lawrence smiled as she checked herself out in the full-length mirror of Bastille’s submissives’ dressing room. She looked good. Damn good. That came as a surprise. Her one-shouldered, dark green club dress played up her purple eyes much better than the black she normally wore to the dungeon. The dress’s slick fabric showed off all the right parts of her body, including the little rings in her nipples and the dramatic tattoos down her arms. The gold high-heeled gladiator sandals made her long legs look alluring and elegant.

  Wow. Who knew? She had to admit, she’d had her doubts when Zeke sent over his “instructions” for tonight’s scene. The man had been in full-on “Master Z” mode when he wrote the laundry list, which read like travel orders to Siberia at first. No leather. No latex. No black. No panties. Okay, the last one had been easy to oblige. But no black? Was the guy serious?

  Of course he was. Zeke wasn’t one shred comfortable about having to do this, and the “preliminary instructions” were meant to drive in one statement on his behalf.

  Tonight would be dictated by his rules.

  Luna had grumbled but met every demand on the man’s list. No way was she messing this up. She’d waited too long. Wanted it too bad. Wanted him too bad.

  She tugged at the dress and frowned at the weird sensation in her stomach. It felt like a flurry of dry leaves. Ha. The last time she checked, Seattle was outside the door. The term dry didn’t exist within fifty miles.

  Nervous did. And unsure. Which made the insides of her thighs tingle in anticipation. In greater need to feel that man’s body between them. Damn, she couldn’t wait.

  How long had it been since she’d prepared for the command of a Master who earned the name? A man who knew that even the clothes on her body had to feel all wrong in order for her head to start feeling right? Who knew that the key to her submissiveness was triple-welded to her brain and all she craved was a Dom with balls big enough to take a blowtorch to those bonds?

  Plenty of men had applied for the job. But on one hand alone could she count the ones who’d turned her mind to fireworks and made her dreams come true. Zeke wasn’t represented on that hand. Not yet. Tonight, all that would change. Tonight, if her fantasies really materialized, all those faces on those fingers would be wiped away by the man who’d finally, finally realize that when paint touched its perfect canvas, it was best to thank fate and let the art explode.

  With Zeke, she was going to be a Rembrandt.

  The leaves in her stomach swirled harder.

  The door to the dressing room opened, bringing a blast of the music now permeating the main room. The mix of sensual synth and soaring opera was mixed for the club by one of the city’s emerging DJs. Lively conversation joined the song, a marked difference from the quiet of the club when she’d arrived forty minutes ago. Luna savored the noise. It was Saturday night at the Bastille. A very special Saturday night. At last.

  The folds between her thighs tickled with a fresh wash of arousal. Fortunately, the new arrivals in the room were Penny and Noah. Her friends each took a side of the mirror to give reactions to her makeover.

  Penny normally went for aloof Goth with the help of her ink-black pixie cut and kohl-lined eyes, but she didn’t even try for that shit right now. Her eyes bugged as if Luna stood there in a Mary Poppins costume. “Fuck. Me.”

  Luna rolled her eyes. “No thank you.”

  Noah held up both hands, showing off perfectly-groomed nails. “And don’t look at me.”

  Luna glanced back at Penny. “Was that a good ‘fuck me’ or a bad ‘fuck me?”

  Penny tipped her head. “Just a ‘wow’ one, I think.”

  “Thanks for nothing, then.”

  “C’mon,” Penny chided, “does my opinion even matter? This is what Z wanted, right?”

  “With one exception.” Noah rolled the words out in a sing-song before gliding behind Luna in a cloud of scented baby oil and a creak of leather shorts.

  “Damn it.” She smoothed a protective hand over her head. “Guess I forgot.”

  Penny smirked. “Uh-huh.”

  “Shut up.” She fidgeted again. Her hair, a swath of black, lavender and silver down to her hips, was her glory. It was no secret to anyone in the club. Nobody messed with her hair. Until Zeke and his instructions.

  “Right,” Noah drawled. “Just like I ‘forgot’ Laird is bringing in that new boi toi from his gym to play with tonight. Just decided to wear my hottest leather Daisy Dukes because I wanted to.”

  “You can shut up, too.”

  “And you can hold still.” Seemingly from nowhere, her friend flourished a hairbrush. He instantly went at her with it, gathering every strand into a high crown pony tail. “Sweet azaleas, what I want to do with this mane…” He pouted at her in the mirror as he started to braid the length, almost pulling off “innocent” with his blond schoolboy haircut and big brown eyes. “Don’t we have just a few extra minutes? There’s this coiled bun I’ve always wanted to try on you—”

  “No coils, Daisy.” Penny grabbed the brush from him before spinning Luna toward the door. “It’s finally time for the lucky Master Z dungeon spin.” Her friend lightly kissed her cheek. “You look perfect. Have fun, beautiful biatch!”

  Her friend’s words resonated as she headed out the door. The “lucky” dungeon spin. If her friends only knew how true the statement was. Penny and Noah had only heard the same line as everyone else, that Zeke was back from deployment and requested her for his homecoming Dominance session. She didn’t realize Luna had gotten her true pass at the jackpot three months ago when Zeke had shown up at her door needing key information for a mission that clearly meant more than “the usual.” She’d helped him but had asked a price. Tonight was payment remittance time.

  Hell. The term made her sound no better than the criminals she’d pointed Zeke to that night. And yeah, she’d had a shitload of guilty twinges about their “deal.” She’d actually gotten to the point of scrolling to his name in her phone. Thirty seconds later, she’d be the better person for letting his body out of a scene that his brain clearly didn’t want.

  But there was the sticky. She hadn’t waited on this man for six years because of half-baked hope. From the moment she’d first seen him stride into this club, an instinct had flared inside her like no other. She felt like a griffin from the fantasy books she’d snuck out of class to read as a kid, spreading its wings and finally finding its life mate. Regrettably, Z’s griffin had still been snoozing.

  She’d decided to be patient. Really patient. At times, she’d even been generous—like that afternoon three months ago. She’d given him the information for his mission even when she’d learned he was out to save another woman with it. But that didn’t concern her anymore. After tapping connections at the base, she’d had learned all about Z’s mystery woman. Army medical corps. Cute but basic. Jogged in the mornings. Downed smoothies for lunch. No smoking, partying or even regular clubs. In a word, vanilla.

  Not the match for Zeke’s griffin.

  Her heart pounded in time to the new boot steps in the entrance foyer. She’d recognize the powerful footfall even if somebody threw a blindfold on her. She almost begged someone to do just that. Though it would kill her not to watch him enter the room, at least some of the water balloons in her body might change back to the muscles they once were.

  “Shit,” she blurted. The cushion upon which he’d told her to wait for him was next to the fireplace, across the room. There was no way she’d make it in time. But the bar was right he
re. She grabbed a cold beer and popped off the top. Maybe if she greeted him with it, maybe even from her knees—

  “Wow. Thanks, little flower, but Amstel isn’t my brand.”

  Shit, the awkward sequel. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.” She glanced at the guy’s feet. Yep, there were the same heavy boots, same big-ass feet. They were attached to equally impressive legs and surfer-god gorgeousness, which would’ve had her running for whatever was his favorite brand, on any other night. “There’s not too many size seventeens that walk through that door.”

  Surfer god grinned. He had one slightly crooked canine, which gave him a devil’s air, as well. “Good call.”

  “I know shoes.”

  “Ah ha. Then the guy you’re likely mistaking me for is my squad mate, Zeke Hayes. He’s the only guy I know in Seattle who also wears a seventeen.”

  She smiled back. “Yeah. That would be him.”

  “You’re in luck, then. Saw him out in the lot. He’s parking his truck. He should be in here in just—”

  “Thank you.” She felt awful for not letting him finish but hoped the fast peck on his cheek made up for it. After a hasty dodge through the crowd, she made it to the cushion in time. The velvet square caressed her ass and thighs as she arranged herself, making sure the dress and her hair were still exactly what Zeke had specified.

  She got in half a calming breath before a second set of boots thumped into the club.

  It was both heaven and hell to wait here. In this location, she could keep her head lowered but still steal peeks from the moment Max opened the red velvet curtains to let him through. When that happened…

  Holy. Crap.

  Screw the downcast eyes. She couldn’t stop staring. The backdrop of those drapes was achingly perfect for him tonight. He was regal. Beautiful. A black leather vest embraced his broad torso, covering a pristine white button-down opened into a deep V where his burnished skin practically glowed in contrast. The shirt’s collar caught the ends of his hair, which hadn’t been re-cut to Army regs yet. Black leather pants covered his legs, leaving no hard, huge inch of his thighs, glutes, and calves to anyone’s imagination. That included the beautiful, long muscle that dominated their apex.

  Before she could stop herself, she openly licked her lips. By every saint Da Vinci ever put to canvas, God had hung that man with a beautiful cock.

  Like Hampton Court gone kinky, the crowd parted for Z like he was a young King Henry returned from Cambrai. In truth, Z had probably been someplace worse, so the adulation fit. Few in the club knew exactly what Zeke did for the Army, but it didn’t take a genius to piece things together when he disappeared for months without warning and no estimated return time. He was one of the elite, going out to battle the worst of the bad guys, which meant everyone celebrated his returns. But the cornerstones of his job, stealth and concealment, also meant he forced every inch of the smile he gave in return to everyone now.

  He didn’t look any more comfortable as he approached her. Working to regulate her breathing—ha, fucking ha—Luna pulled up her spine, dipped her head, and folded her hands atop her thighs. She checked the angle of her legs again. One was tucked against her backside, the other curled gracefully next to it. She was as “in place” as she’d ever be.

  Even without Zeke’s air-altering presence, she would’ve detected him drawing near. Though all conversations didn’t stop, it felt like they got tucked beneath a heavy blanket. She expected the sounds that stood out in the resulting hush. Stunned gasps. A few curious whispers. And of course, the snarky giggles. Master Zeke was playing with her tonight? Like the good courtiers they were, everyone buzzed with their bets about the outcome.

  Go ahead, you petty shits. We’ll see who’s satisfying him long after you’ve gone home to your dream lovers and vibrators.

  There was no more time to indulge the musings. The scuffed toes and heavy buckles of Zeke’s boots appeared in her view. The scent of him, musk and rain and man, filled every corner of her senses. So much for feeling composed.

  “You got the memo.” He said it in a murmur only she could hear. The intimacy was a pin on all the water balloons.

  “Yes, Sir.” She kept her head bent as he paced an assessing circle around her. “Are you pleased?”

  Shitty timing on the question. He was behind her now. The disciplinary yank on her braid proved that, along with the scratch of his beard against her ear. “Are you in charge?”

  “No, Sir.” The words left her on a breath. Yeah, she was officially a puddle now.

  “Then no more questions, Luna. The only words that leave your mouth tonight are ‘Yes, Sir’ and “No, Sir.’ Are we on the same page?”

  She nodded, for words weren’t possible. Oh, God. This was what she needed. A merciless leash. A Master who held it without a tremor. He knew that already, didn’t he? He just…knew. As she’d been so certain he would.

  Zeke released her hair, though he remained behind her. His legs pressed her shoulders. The force of his stare scorched the back of her neck. “In answer to your query, since it was asked so sweetly, I am pleased.” He stroked the top of her head. “Did you comply with everything?”

  The pause in his words filled in the subject to which he referred. Like she’d forgotten it for a damn second since he’d come in. Like the panty-less, pulsing walls of her pussy would let her. “Yes, Sir,” she responded.

  He stepped back. “Then lean forward and show me. Full ass presentation, girl. Knees nice and wide.”

  Her heartbeat rammed her throat, shoved there by a mix of terror and excitement. Fuck. He danced at the edge of terminology for slave positions. Would he really go there with her? Had he somehow reached that far down into her psyche, explored the deepest shadows of her desires?

  Zeke’s impatient cough left those questions hanging. Shit, shit, shit. They’d barely begun and she was blowing it. She pitched forward into the position he directed, pressing her forehead to the carpet, her arms flat from elbows to palms. She raised her lower body high, spreading her legs as he’d specified, which caused the slinky dress to slide and puddle across the top of her back. Nearly all of her body was now on display for Zeke. And everyone else in the room.

  And all of them could see how wet she already was for him.

  “Holy shit.”

  Quiet praise permeated the words, which would have warmed every inch of her if Z had said them. The drawl came from his friend, Mister Size Seventeens with the cute crooked tooth.

  “Hey.” There was a gruff slap, like the two men clasped hands. She couldn’t be certain, since her eyes were barely an inch off the floor.

  “You’re a lucky bastard, Hayes.”

  She really liked that guy.

  “You also know what other kinds of a bastard I can be.” Zeke’s response was full of tight meaning.

  “So you say.”

  “So you’ve seen, Tait.”

  The other man snorted. “Fine. I get that you’re concerned. But you’re not in mission gear, this isn’t a scum pond in Bumfuck Asia, and she is nothing like the pricks we’re normally up against.” Another distinct pause. She felt him gazing at her, as well. He audibly shifted in his pants. Was the guy really that hot from the sight of her? And did that please or disturb Z? “With all that beauty to harness, I don’t think ‘Psycho Zsycho’ will want to come out and play tonight.”

  Psycho Zsycho? She should have laughed. Instead, a shiver claimed her. Every inch of her vagina got soaked with anticipation, making her pussy tingle when the moisture hit the air. Sure, Z was a well-built man and a masterful Dom, but it was the violence beneath his surface that lured her like yin to yang…the animal in him, more than able to handle the voracious beast in her.

  And now, learning his squad mates had named his animal…

  Shit. Just shit. She curled her fingertips into the carpet in order to keep the rest of her body poised for him.

  “The vote of confidence is appreciated, man,” Zeke answered, “but you don’t und
erstand. Right now, I guarantee you that little beauty is wondering how fast she can meet the Zsych Man. And how long he’ll stick around.”

  She indulged a smile. Damn, did that man know her. But why did he keep fighting it? Why did he keep denying what they shared, everything they could be together? She was determined those questions wouldn’t go unanswered tonight. He’d finally see her truth. He’d finally see her.

  “She can wish it all she wants.” The statement came from Tait. “But the last time I checked, you weren’t her genie in a bottle.” There was a meaningful pause. “You’re here to give her what she needs, Z.”

  Luna gripped the carpet again. Just anticipating Zeke’s answer rushed her stomach with delicious terror and drenched her sex with illicit heat. Would he get it? Would he know?

  “There’s the quicksand, man. Zsycho out of the bottle is what she needs.”

  She barely held back a grateful sob. He understood. He really did.

  Tait wasn’t so ecstatic. “Fuck.”

  “Now you know why I need a babysitter.”

  A drink glass clunked against a table. “I’d better not finish this.”

  “Bring it along. You’ll probably need it later.”

  “Affirmative on that.”

  Like a meadow beneath an approaching storm, every nerve in her body stood on end as Z moved again. She shook but held her position, even when he crouched next to her. But when he skated a hand down her back, scoring her skin in a slow drag, her moan was uncontrollable.

  His touch roughened. So did his breath. Her body rose and fell in time to his exhalations, her blood forming its lusty backbeat.

  He didn’t stop at the bottom of her spine. He rode the undulations of her ass, circling his long fingers around one cheek then the other. By the fucking stars in heaven, he was going to give her an orgasm before he gave her a single welt.

  No. No! She fought the rush. Tried to clench her pussy against it. She didn’t deserve it. Not this fast. She had to earn the pleasure. She couldn’t have the ecstasy before she endured the agony. They’d made that abundantly clear at Saint Cecelia’s, hadn’t they? Over and over again. You could take the girl out of boarding school, but boarding school never really left the girl.