by Angel Payne
“No.”
He backed away. The effort was painful at first, but looking to the tattoo on his pelvis made those steps easier to take. Barbed wire and tear drops. The pain and the loneliness of eight long years on the streets. Ninety-six months he’d survived because he’d learned to stay away from the Craps table. There was no way in hell he was going back now. And if he cared at all for this woman, there was no way in fuck he’d drag her anywhere near it, either.
Oh, yeah. He was a losing bet in the hearts and flowers department. Rayna wasn’t a dumb shit; she knew it, as well.
But as he settled onto the couch with the blanket from the upstairs window seat, he accidentally sat on the remote control for the TV. The motion made the screen flare to life again—and showed him what movie she’d picked out for them to watch together.
The Empire Strikes Back.
Chapter Seventeen
Rayna suppressed a little giggle.
Less than a week ago, she’d inwardly compared the man to a puma. At the time, he’d certainly represented for the wildcats in about ten different forms of sexy. She wasn’t sure whether to classify this as the eleventh…or a new category altogether.
Z had obviously fallen asleep on the bedroom couch. She had no idea why he hadn’t just come to bed, but maybe all that intensity did something different to a Dom’s brain than it did a sub’s. He’d seemed weirdly amped when they finished, whereas the last time she’d been so relaxed, she’d been nineteen and high on pain killers after having her wisdom teeth pulled. Needless to say, she’d been down for the count from the moment she’d gotten up here.
Now, nearly ten hours later, the mountains outside were bathed in sun and the man inside was lost to soft snores. She smiled as she drank in the glory of him. Z was sprawled beneath a lap blanket across the same spot where he’d pounded into her on Sunday night. That was Sprawled, capital S. One of his legs was hooked over the back of the couch. His other leg dangled over the end, his toes brushing the floor in time to the inhalations filling his massive chest. His arms, so ripped they looked flexed even in sleep, were folded across the bronze expanse as if he were preparing to issue orders to a lucky subbie in his dreams.
She wondered if she was that subbie.
She turned away and rolled her eyes.
How pathetic can you be? A couple of times at his feet, amazing as they were, didn’t turn you into wonder subbie, okay? You’re still you. Rayna Chestain. Accomplished medic. Survivor of kidnap, captivity, and seven overbearing brothers. Marching to another man’s sexual drum, no matter how mind-blowingly great the experience, isn’t part of your total life picture.
Now she just had to decipher why that dropped a ball of lead into her stomach, forming into claws that tightened around her throat.
She took a deep breath and prepared to turn for the bathroom. And you’re going to do it without looking at him again. Because looking will mean fantasizing. And fantasizing will only lead to—
“Ray-bird.”
It was a groggy mumble, barely audible, but it whipped her stare back in a fervent second. As soon as she gave her conscience the middle finger, she rotated her body, as well.
Z hadn’t moved. His dark lashes were still solidly closed. The rest of his face, usually quartz-hard with focus, was even more beautiful in the grip of deep and peaceful sleep.
“Shit,” she whispered, shaking her head. She’d imagined it, hadn’t she? Pathetic. Why would a Dom like him, so powerful and assured and capable of drawing out a sub’s most illicit desires, be thinking of a vanilla dork like her in his sleep?
“Rayna.”
Her breath snagged. The lead in her stomach turned into fire.
She had not imagined that full-volume moan—nor the way his upper leg slid down and helped its twin to writhe with need.
“Fuck…Rayna…yes.”
Or the way he bucked his hips so violently, the blanket fell free from his body.
“Shit,” she repeated. The majestic strength of his legs was amplified by the tension winding through them. The springy hairs along their lengths helped to define thighs, calves, even knees that were sculpted as a gladiator’s. And at their crux was the burnished length that now held her gaze as willing captive. His cock only twitched a little right now, but even in its half-flexed state, it was stunning to look at. It was so perfectly proportioned, pulsing with strength though it still lolled against his thigh. Her heart revved as she imagined rubbing it. Licking it. Tasting it…
She stifled a needy sigh. The memory of an after-work girls’ night came back to haunt her. Sage and one of the base’s lab techs, Jenna, had gotten all swoony about the beauty of cocks, even in their not-so-aroused states. She’d label her co-workers a pair of aggro-psycho-nymphos, which had earned her the tab for the next round and a pair of she’ll-find-out-one-day nods.
That day had absolutely arrived.
Fascination pulled her closer to him. Zeke let out another slumber-heavy groan. His penis shifted past the twitching phase. She licked her lips as she watched the blood flow into his long muscle, lifting it off his thigh, practically beckoning her with its forceful jerks.
“Oh…hell,” he grated. “Rayna, please.”
The raw need in his voice dragged her legs down. Though he was still sleeping, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to kneel for him. “Sir.” She placed her hands on his lower thighs, careful to be gentle about it. Though he obviously wasn’t dreaming about a mission or battle, she was well aware of the dangers of rousing a Special Forces man from deep sleep. “I’m here. What do you need?”
His only verbal answer was another long moan. But visually he gave her much more to go on. His breaths changed from full and relaxed to choppy and harsh. His thighs clenched. His erection sprang higher, its swollen, silken head adorned by milky white drops that broadcast exactly what movie played in his mind. She had a feeling it had nothing to do with laser blasters or carbonite freezes. Thank God.
“Rayna. Damn! Oh honey…”
She pressed her fingers into his legs, responding to the ache in his voice with the care of her touch. “Sshhh. I’m here and I’m going to make it better.”
As she gave him the vow, she moved up and over him, dropping reverent kisses up the staff that now pulsed with dark bronze and red hues. His skin tightened beneath her lips. His thighs hardened. His body quivered, emanating potency and power that surrounded her, rolled through her, made her giddy from the high of getting to harness it with the ministrations of her mouth.
As she got to the shiny mushroom at his tip, she circled her tongue, savoring the tangy essence of his pre-cum. Z let out a stunned snort.
“Mmmphh! Huh? What the—” He choked and lifted his head. His gaze shot down to meet hers in conscious astonishment. “Holy fuck,” he uttered. “If I’m still dreaming, someone pass the Ambien.”
She let her gaze warm as she pulled his wide, throbbing length into her mouth. He was delicious, a heady combination of salt, spice, and musk that bathed her tongue and filled her senses. She wanted to fill herself with him. Drown in his taste. Succumb to his heat. Give herself completely for his pleasure.
Beneath her tongue, his thick veins throbbed and his piercing danced. Zeke let out a harsh oath as she toyed with the balls at the ends of the curved steel, directly stimulating the chambers beneath that continued to swell from her exploration. She ran a hand over the contracted ridges of his abdomen. Felt him heave from harsh, hard breaths. Rejoiced in the cataclysm she stirred with every touch, lick, and stroke.
“You’re playing with fire, Ray-bird. Do you know that?”
She hummed around his cock before letting the sound morph into a languorous, “Mmmhmmm.”
She heard him swallow hard as she lowered over his thick stick of flesh. With a sudden yank he pulled her off, though he let her toy with his tip as he growled, “Let me be clear. I don’t let myself ‘get blow jobs,’ honey. You keep this up and I’m going to fuck that hot, wet, heaven of your mou
th. It’ll be a full team assault. No mercy, no softness.” As if to emphasize his point, he grabbed the sides of her jaw, one side in each hand, digging his fingers into her cheekbones. “You’ve got ten seconds to decide.”
He practically snarled the words in his heavy lust. An equally charged silence gripped the next ten seconds where the only thing that changed was the slow, smiling kiss she lowered to his swollen, wet cock. She knew she shouldn’t be enjoying what that did to his gaze. The way it narrowed with dangerous intent…the fire he’d warned her about now a live flare framed by his charcoal lashes.
His lips parted. For a moment, she thought he was about to smile at her in return.
Wrong assumption.
“Time’s up.”
Really wrong assumption.
Gone was his shuddering, I-woke-up-to-a-blowjob tone. Master Zeke was back in the house—more accurately, in every inch of the body that rose into a full sitting position, legs braced in a massive V, dragging her to rest right at its crux. That was surely her cue to continue, so Rayna lowered her head to continue her ministrations to his cock, but she was stopped by his powerful fingers beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him again.
Her throat closed on a mesmerized choke. He was unrelenting darkness, hardness, intensity, brutality. He was breathtaking.
As she drank in his masculine beauty, her nipples and her clit hardened in tormenting tandem. In some crazy recess of her mind, she made a note to seriously suggest the gladiator gig as his first civilian job after the teams.
“Your safe word is ‘red,’” he finally said. “‘Red,’ not ‘Kier.’ I don’t want you sparing a single fucking thought on that dickwad right now.”
She felt her eyes go wide. Just as fast, she let them fall. Though her body was coursing with arousal and excitement like Crazy Taxi at level two hundred, her mind instantly downshifted then left the driver’s seat altogether. Zeke was driving and she was beyond joyful to let him. Her trust was his. Her surrender was his. Every inch of her body was his to command, to use, to dominate.
She nodded and rasped, “Yes, Sir. I understand. My safe word is ‘red.’”
“Outstanding.”
He gave her the word as fact, not endorsement. At the same time, he skated his hand from her chin to her nape. With his other hand, he anchored the top of her head by sinking his fingers into her hair from the forehead back. In both places, he dug into her scalp with circles of brutal possession, branding irons that scorched all the way inside her brain.
Rayna gasped and let her eyes slide shut. This didn’t feel physically good. But she wanted it this way. No…she needed it this way. With every cinch of his bondage and grip of his captivity, Zeke replaced her nightmares with pleasure, her shame with survival. He showed her that the crucible could be good. Really, really good…
“Open your mouth.” Again, his voice was low and nearly emotionless. He lowered her head until she felt his penis pushing at her lips again. “Relax your jaw. Breathe through your nose.”
The next second, he was inside her. All the way inside. Though Rayna obeyed his directions to the letter, she could feel him pounding at her gag reflex with the fullness of his length. She concentrated on letting him get deeper into her throat. His vow had been spot-on accurate. He turned her head into a receptacle for his lust, shoving her down over and over onto his huge, hard pole. The pace was relentless. His cock was enormous. Her jaw hurt. Her eyes teared.
Her spirit soared.
“You like this, honey?” he said with rough tension. “Yeah, I think you do. Your mouth is so perfect for fucking, Ray-bird. So soft and wet and slick. Bet you love how hard and huge you’ve gotten me.” He shoved her down and held her there, letting her feel his head pulsating at the back of her throat. “Bet it’s made you hard, too. I want you to use your fingers and check. Stroke that erect clit for me. You’re going to touch it until you climax for me—and as you do, you’re going to swallow every drop of my come in that sweet, perfect mouth of yours.”
She sighed in grateful acquiescence, though the man could’ve asked her to walk naked through the mall right now and she’d comply without question. The moment her hand cupped her mound, her fingers skimming over the silver bar that had such a different meaning even a week ago, a startled moan shot up her throat. She knew she was turned on, but from the second her fingers hit that moist, quivering ball of nerves, her sex clenched and her pussy turned to fire. She was ready to crash and burn right now.
“Don’t.” Zeke’s charge pounded into her senses, another unnerving reminder of how he could read her more clearly than a CNN news crawl. “Hold it in, honey. Your orgasm belongs to me as completely as your mouth.”
She whined as submissively as she could, trying to tell him she understood. The sound made him grunt in approval, though it earned her no mercy from the pace of his fucking. Harder, faster, deeper he pounded. His fingers were claws at her scalp. His cock was everywhere in her mouth. His hoarse, commanding breaths consumed the air.
“Now. Feel it all, honey. Take it all from me. Now!”
The climax hit her deep. Her sex convulsed and flared, dying and reborn in the same blissful, beautiful second. At the same time, Z pumped his seed into her with a roar of glory and a shuddering thrust. Everything went dark then blinding white. Her equilibrium swam, yet she’d never felt more clear. She was a damn phoenix from ashes. She was destroyed yet overjoyed. She was—
The sobs hit her as fast as the comprehension did.
Zeke pulled out the second her shoulders started shaking. As soon as her mouth was empty, she erupted with high cries of astonishment and amazement. She drenched his chest as he hauled her up into his lap in a swift sweep, wrapping her in the lap blanket as she began to shiver. He didn’t say a word. His hold was complete yet gentle, as possessive as it was ten minutes ago, absorbing every shaking sob and pitiful blubber.
When she finally collapsed her head against his shoulder, Zeke spoke. His voice was as soft as the caresses her gave her shoulder with the back of his hand. “You want to talk about it?”
She felt like punching him—before telling him to stop reading every need she had before she knew it existed. Instead, she curled her knees up and burrowed close as fresh tears plagued her eyes.
“I’m…a submissive.”
The confession was as terrifying as she thought it would be. This wasn’t like admitting she didn’t like shellfish, or only flossed every other day, or liked masturbating in the shower. This was a huge damn door being opened in her soul, never to be closed again. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to find the Close button again. Yet praying she never would.
Zeke turned his hand over and closed it around the top of her arm. “Yeah,” he murmured, “you sure as fuck are.”
She held her breath at that and wished she didn’t know the reason why. More ominously, she wished that moment wasn’t the one in which she’d predict exactly what he’d say.
“I can’t be your Dom, Ray-bird.”
His embrace suddenly felt like bricks. The same ones that crashed on top of her heart.
She rose, clutching the blanket with her. Confusion declared mutiny on her logic. Pain hit the override lever on her brain—and the thousands of things it told her about why Zeke was trying to speak his truth in as diplomatic a manner as he could.
Gazing at him now, gloriously naked and freshly satisfied by her, didn’t put her in the mood for diplomacy.
“Is that so?” She flashed a grim smile while tilting her head. “All right, then. Can you explain what you’ve been doing for the last three days, if you not being my Dom?”
His face, full of firm resolve, didn’t change as he rose. “The last three days have been incredible, but they’ve been a dream. This isn’t reality. You know it as well as I do, Ray-bird. We can’t stay up on this mountain forever, and we sure as hell can’t throw it on a trailer and drag it back to Tacoma.”
The bricks in her heart started pounding together, pulverizing everythin
g as they went. She spun from him. “Why not?” She hated the pitiful pitch in her voice. She hated him even more for causing it. You rescued me from the dead. How hard can it be to move a damn mountain?
His long sigh weighted the air. “Because you’ll hate me even more than you do right now. Not tomorrow, probably not next week, but if we even attempt this thing long-term, I’ll fuck it up. I’ll fuck you up. It won’t be pretty, and—”
“Pretty?” She whirled back around. “Seriously? You think I want pretty, Zeke?” She advanced and stabbed a finger into his chest. “You think I even remember what pretty is after what King did to me, and what Mua is still trying to do to me?”
He wrapped her hand inside both his own. “I think you deserve a man, a Master, who’s going to give you everything your heart desires and everything your soul needs.” Before he spoke again, he dropped a soft kiss onto her knuckles. “I can’t be that man, honey.”
He pushed back from her with a violent growl. “I fucking hate saying this to you. I hate being the one standing here and telling you that I’ve tried already, okay? I tried the whole goddamn D/s dream on, and I burned it to shreds. Badly. I’m not going to do it again. I fucking refuse to send you up in flames.” Her chest roiled as their stares locked. His eyes, usually adoring her or laughing with her or desiring her, were now filled with nothing but ashen sorrow. “Not you, Rayna. Not. You.”
“Damn it,” she rasped. “Do you think we’re that flammable, Z? Do you think I am?”
That put his jaw on full lockdown. He swallowed hard. “Sit down.”
“What?”
He pointed at the bed. “There. Now. Sit.”
She really, really wanted to defy him. The twisted torment on his face canceled every viable reason to do so. Gathering the blanket tighter to her chest, she lowered to the edge of the bed.
