Bound to Submit (Miami Masters Book 4)

by BJ Wane

  “Some things won’t let you go.” Nodding toward an alley, Miles’ smile didn’t reach his eyes as he murmured, “Round two.”

  It was after 2:00 a.m. by the time he dropped Jake off at his vehicle and slipped inside the back door of the gym. Miles scowled when Ed came out of his room and looked him over with a critical eye. “You just don’t listen, do you?”

  “About as well as you ever did. You okay?” Ed asked with gruff insistence.

  “I’m fine.” Striding across the wood floors, he grabbed the older man’s shoulders and turned him back toward his door. “A few words in the right ears should suffice to get the brother to back off. Now, good-night,” he stated firmly before retreating to his upstairs loft.

  Miles wondered where he’d be today if he hadn’t had the good fortune to break into Ed’s gym that night over twenty-three years ago. Looking around his spacious apartment, he compared the space and furnishings to what he’d grown up in and wished, not for the first time, his mother had lived to see and reap the rewards of his success. She’d done her best to make their small, rundown home as nice as possible, just as she’d done her best to try and shield him from his father’s brutality. Splitting from the foster home the courts placed him in may have been a dumb move after he’d gotten off on a justifiable homicide plea due to the documented history of abuse in his family, but when his gang activity led him to Ed’s place months later, it ended up being the best decision he’d ever made.

  No one knew Miles, and the burden of guilt he carried, better than Ed, except for the guys. What hadn’t come out during the three months of bonding during that grueling summer camp, had eventually been unloaded in the ensuing years over late-night drinking binges. Ed had welcomed each of them as they relocated to Miami for different reasons. When he discovered their penchant for BDSM, his mentor hadn’t hesitated to lecture about respect and limits, as if they already weren’t aware of both. No one took umbrage, since they all appreciated having an authority figure in their life who actually cared enough to still lecture them as adults.

  Miles didn’t bother with lights as he made his way to his bedroom, then flipped on the bathroom light. Pulling his tee-shirt off, he tossed it aside and turned his right shoulder enough to see the rose vine tattoo decorating his upper back, a special tribute to his mother no one had seen other than his six, closest friends. You had to look closely to make out the word ‘MOM’ intertwined among the green leaves falling from the bright red blossom, and by leaving his shirt on or keeping his back turned away from whomever he was sexually involved with, he’d been able to keep her memory private. He thought it only fitting that one side of his body reflected the worst of him and the other the best. He didn’t regret the end of his father’s miserable life, only that he’d been too late to save his mother.

  It was that dark side of him, the deep-rooted anger that still simmered over his failure that he feared, and why he’d tried to stay away from Hope. But it was too late now to back out of their arrangement. The adrenaline rush of taking her out on his bike and seeing just how responsive she was to his control had sealed his fate. There was nothing he wanted more now than to give her what she’d gone looking for. Stripping off his pants, Miles padded back into the bedroom and fell face-down on his bed, praying he’d succeed in giving her what she needed and working her out of his system.

  Chapter 5

  “So, you’ll be at the class tonight?”

  Traci gave Hope a ‘gotcha’ smile from behind her receptionist desk, and Hope knew she was out of excuses. The grant money she just shared knowledge of with Traci ensured the shelter had the resources to see them through the next few months, and when she added in the generous check Sandie had delivered at the beginning of the week from Zach’s charity fund, her finances were golden for the first time since she opened a few years ago.

  “Yes, I’ll be going. I can’t very well insist you attend while making excuses for myself.” And, of course, the dreams plaguing my sleep since Miles dropped me off last Friday night after that exhilarating motorcycle ride and mind-blowing orgasm have nothing to do with my decision. There was no denying her attraction to the hard-edged Dom or her continued interest in the lifestyle her new friends enjoyed so much. If only her first taste of BDSM hadn’t ended with such life-altering, tragic circumstances. She would be able to relax more about her decision to work off her infatuation with the man so closely associated with Sandie, and now Krista and Julie. “Why don’t you go ahead so you have time to eat something, and I’ll see you in a little while.”

  “Okay, but you better not back out.” Traci pushed back from the desk and picked up her purse. “See you in a few.”

  Hope envied the bounce to the young girl’s step as Traci left the shelter. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to learn self-defense or to attend this class with her friends that had her dragging her feet, but how much she yearned to see Miles again that dampened her enthusiasm. The man seemed to have a stranglehold on her libido, and in any other circumstances, she would embrace a relationship to explore that strong connection. The constant pain from the cold, condemning rejection of those she thought cared for her continued to remind her how difficult it had been to start over on her own.

  Shaking her head as if she could knock the irritating doubts out of her mind, Hope opened the door that led into the shelter’s temporary home for those who found themselves without one, or in dire circumstances. She scanned the rows of white cots that took up half of the cavernous space and knew from checking the roster they were all filled for the night. Long tables and benches took up most of the other half with a small play area in the back set up with a television and toys for all ages of children. Several played quietly now, way too subdued for their youth, which always broke her heart.

  Winding her way toward the kitchen, she spoke with a few residents on the way, asking if they had everything they needed and offering encouragement to those who looked like they needed it. She spent an hour with the kitchen staff, helping cook then serve before she was shooed out by Martha, her kitchen supervisor.

  “You, out.” Pointing a serving spoon at her, the plump older woman pretended to scold Hope. “I keep telling you we don’t need you. I’ve got it under control.”

  Wiping her damp brow with her arm, Hope hung up her apron and smiled at the one volunteer she knew she couldn’t do without. Martha ran the kitchen with tight efficiency and motherly care, an attitude she’d perfected over years of raising five children and enjoying twelve grandchildren, whom she employed whenever they were short on cooks or servers.

  “Okay, I’m going. I think most of them have been through the line. Remember, don’t go out to your cars alone or without Bobby escorting you.”

  “We won’t. There are too many wackos out there. Get some rest tonight, Hope. You look tired.” Martha’s eyes held a hint of concern as well as motherly affection behind her wire-rimmed glasses Hope never tired of seeing.

  “I am, and I will. See you tomorrow.” Making her way to the elevator, Hope reminded herself of all the people who had replaced her family and friends in Atlanta, and how much more enriched her life had become since relocating to Miami and starting her life afresh, away from the snobby, wealthy elite she’d grown up with. And how much more it would hurt to lose her new life.

  Bobby, the retired veteran who had stopped in one evening and had returned every night since to keep an eye on the place, or so he said, entered through the back door as she punched the elevator button. Tall and thin, he wore his long gray hair pulled back in a ponytail that hung between his shoulders, and his craggy face bore signs of a hard life. He always greeted everyone at the shelter with an engaging smile and soft-spoken word, but otherwise kept to himself as he spent a good portion of each night watching over them.

  Hope smiled, holding the elevator when it pinged open. “Hi there. You’re just in time to get dinner before Martha starts cleaning up.”

  “She always saves me a plate,” Bobby replied as he strolle
d down the hall toward her. “Everything good tonight?”

  “Yes, very quiet despite the full house. I have a class shortly, so I’ll be out of the building for a while.”

  He nodded. “I’ll watch for you.”

  “There’s no need,” she hastened to assure him. Given Miles’ protectiveness, she didn’t doubt he would insist on seeing her back. “It’s at the gym up the street. There will be others I’ll be with.”

  Bobby’s answer was as simple and to the point as most of Miles’ responses. “I’ll watch. Enjoy yourself. You look like you could use a break.”

  She scowled at his back as he slipped inside the housing room. Did everyone have to point out the fact she’d gotten little sleep the past few days? Plan on staying late. Regardless of her misgivings about entering into a relationship with Miles, Hope couldn’t suppress a bubble of excitement his parting words last week evoked as she rode the elevator up. It was the erotic promise in his voice when he’d issued that order that was responsible for the restless nights since, and the anticipation of turning herself over to his control again. Why had she ever thought she could drive out her craving for Miles with another Dom? She shook her head at her own naiveté and prepared for class, and to submit to her temporary Dom again.

  Because Hope procrastinated over what to wear as well as second guessing attending at all, she entered Miles’ gym five minutes late. No one was behind the counter, so she followed the sounds coming from behind closed double doors, berating herself for not arriving in time to visit with her friends before the class started. She stopped just inside, her gaze sweeping across the huge room. Julie’s long ponytail of midnight hair caught her eye and she saw the rest of the women doing stretches on a large mat. Padding over to the women’s self-defense class, she eyed the men paired off in the raised, roped-off platforms, boxing and grappling with heavy grunts while other members performed a variety of maneuvers foreign to her.

  Then she spotted Miles and stumbled to a stop. That is so not right. The immediate warmth that spread through her body upon seeing him dressed in the loose white pants and tunic top she noted on most of the members, spinning on his bare feet and executing a back kick that landed his opponent flat on his back, was so unfair. No man should garner such a quick, heated response under these circumstances, especially one who left her flustered when he saw her. After giving his partner a hand up and a few words, he strolled toward her, his dark eyes keeping her rooted in place, waiting for him.

  “You’re late.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure what to wear.” She waved a hand at her loose shorts and tee-shirt.

  “There’s a gi at the check-in counter for you.” Miles grasped her elbow and guided her back out front, where he handed her a neatly folded outfit still in its packaging. Pointing toward another door, he stated, “Through there are the dressing rooms which also open into the gym. I’ll tell Sensei McCallum you’re here.”

  “Aren’t you going to instruct us?” Hope should be relieved the man she saw leading the class in stretches was the instructor, it would be much easier to learn without Miles distracting her. So why was she disappointed?

  “I’ll be observing and giving pointers as you go along.” Stepping closer to her, he backed her against the counter with his large body. Hope clutched the package in front of her, the only thing keeping their bodies from direct contact, which seemed to amuse him when his eyes shifted down then back up to her face and his mouth curled up on one side.

  “Miles…”

  “You will call me Sensei Cavenaugh during class time, Master C will do for when we’re alone. Go get changed.” He stepped back, and Hope felt his eyes on her as she entered the hall to the dressing rooms and wondered if constant frustration was a curse or benefit of having a submissive nature. She guessed time would tell.

  “Hope, welcome to the class,” Sensei McCallum greeted her as she stepped over to the mat after changing into the loose clothes. Other than her four friends and Traci, five other women took up residence on the mat. “Krista has volunteered to show you the stretches and warm-ups you’ve missed. Jump right in when you’re done.”

  Hope nodded. “Thank you.” She joined Krista behind the group with a smile of gratitude. “Thanks. I’m sorry I’m late and am taking up your time.”

  Krista waved a hand, her blue eyes as warm as her smile. “We’re just glad you decided to join us. What changed your mind?”

  “Not what, who,” she huffed as she sat down and followed Krista’s lead through stretches that pulled at muscles that weren’t used to being stressed. At her questioning look, Hope added, “Miles.”

  A small giggle erupted from her friend as they both bent over their straight-out legs and touched their upturned toes. “Welcome to the downfallen.”

  Hope rushed to disabuse Krista of injecting more into her and Miles’ relationship than was there. “It’s just a temporary hook-up, you know, to appease my curiosity.”

  “If you say so.” Pushing to her feet, Krista bent her right foot up behind her, holding it against her butt with her right hand while leaning her shoulders forward and stretching out with her left arm.

  Ignoring her smirk and her reply, Hope mimicked the position, winced at the pull and mumbled, “Bodies aren’t meant to bend this way.”

  “Better get used to it if you’re hooked up with Miles, even temporarily,” Krista warned with a wicked grin.

  “How do you do this so easily after just one class?” Hope envied the ease with which Krista moved and switched positions.

  “Yoga. A lot of these warm-ups are the same, or similar to what Alessa and I have been doing for the past few years in our Sunday sessions.”

  She remembered hearing them talk about yoga, and Hope had been interested in learning more about the exercise, but there never seemed to be time. Krista went through a few more with her then they joined the class in time for Sensei to give a demonstration. He’d called Sandie up front and put her in a light chokehold from behind, the same maneuver Miles had surprised her with.

  “As you can see, I have Sandie’s head pressed against my chest, immediately negating the possibility of her using a head butt and possibly breaking my nose.” Dean tightened his arm a fraction and Sandie’s hands came up in an automatic attempt to disengage him. He relaxed his hold with an admonishment. “If your arms are free, don’t wait for your attacker to cut off your air before you use your claws on him. Dig into his arm with as much strength as you can muster, draw blood. If nothing else, you’ll have DNA. The same with your legs. Use them as weapons any way you can. Stomp on my foot,” he instructed.

  Sandie lifted her leg and started to bring her heel down on his foot, but he kicked it out from under her and took her down to the mat before she could connect. Rising from where he’d landed on top of her with an agile jump to his feet, he held his hand down to assist her up. “What I just demonstrated were the consequences if you hesitate. You need to think and act fast, especially if you’re attacked from behind. Any questions?”

  Hope shifted on her bare feet in uncomfortable awareness of her tingling breasts and pulsing sheath. Throughout Sensei McCallum’s demonstration, her mind couldn’t help but play back the evening she’d found herself pinned in just such a manner, the feel of Miles’ thick chest against her back, his semi-erection against her butt and his warm breath on her neck, and how fast fear had turned to pulse-pounding excitement. She’d been so engrossed in the vivid, hot memory, she missed a lot of what Sensei McCallum said, and from the frown he aimed her way, he knew it. Uncomfortable, she looked away and her gaze collided with Miles’ dark frown. Oh, shit. Braced with his sexy, bare feet spread and those massive arms crossed over his chest, she could tell he wasn’t happy with her.

  Sensei started talking again and she returned her attention to the instructor, aware Miles kept his eyes on her. “We’ll split into pairs now and practice sparring with pugil sticks. Once you reach a certain efficiency, you’ll replace the pugils with your a
rms.” Picking up one of the large, urethane foam-stuffed cylinders, he turned it to show them the handles. “One of you will hold this up as the other comes at you with a hand chop. Switch off when you’re ready. Since there are eleven—”

  “I’ll partner with Hope.”

  That deep, irritated voice spread a wave of neediness through Hope she should be used to by now but wasn’t. One look at Miles’ face and she knew she was in for more than a session learning defense techniques. A tiny thrill of expectation rippled under her skin as he came toward her.

  With a hand on her lower back, Miles urged her forward, saying, “Come with me.” They went through yet another door then into the first door on the right off the small hallway. Closing the door, he kept his eyes on her as he reached behind him and turned the lock, the click echoing in the otherwise silent room. After coming from the loud noise of the busy gym, the sudden quiet seemed almost as ominous as his next statement. “You weren’t paying attention in the class, either during the demo or while you were warming up.”

  “I went through them with Krista,” Hope quickly defended herself. A part of her liked the fact his attention had been so focused on her, likely the same perverse part responsible for the way her panties dampened from the stern look on his face that matched the cutting edge of his voice.

  “Yes, but you were talking instead of keeping your attention on the instructor. I’d hoped you would take this, and your safety, seriously.” Okay, that rebuke hurt, almost as much as disappointing him bothered her.