Bound to Submit (Miami Masters Book 4)

by BJ Wane

  Krista tucked one foot beneath her, saying, “Thank you. We’ve asked the guys if we can have a Halloween themed engagement party this weekend, and they loved the idea.” She glanced at Alessa with a hopeful expression. “You’ll come, won’t you? You won’t have to do anything, and it’ll be fun.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.”

  Hope took pity on Alessa’s flustered manner, which reminded her of her reaction when the Dom in the Atlanta club had pinned her down for an answer to his invitation. The whole ‘I want to, but don’t want to, deer caught in the headlights’ expression on Alessa’s face mirrored exactly how Hope had felt before giving in to the dare.

  “I’m still new to everyone, and have to tell you, Alessa, it is fun just watching.”

  Averting her caramel eyes, she replied, “I’ll think about it.”

  Krista shook her head. “You always say that, but your answer is always the same.”

  In the first show of irritation Hope had ever witnessed from Alessa, the strawberry blonde glared at Krista and bit out, “Then quit asking.”

  Sandie intervened before harsher words were spoken and caused a rift between the two long-time friends. “The invitation is always there. Let’s just leave it at that.” Rising, she picked up the empty snack tray. “I’ll add some more cheese and crackers to this and we can finish off the wine before our guys come looking for us.”

  “I’ll help you.” Hope followed Sandie across the large room to the spacious, top-of-the-line kitchen, intending to take this opportunity to learn more about Miles. Since Sandie had been hanging around the gang of seven the longest, she wanted to pick her brain about the man she was sleeping with and knew next to nothing about. Maybe she could learn something that would make it easier for her to be more open with him about herself.

  Sandie turned and looked point blank at Hope as soon as they reached the wide counter. “Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

  “I’m that obvious, huh?”

  “Pretty much. Does this have to do with Miles?”

  Leaning on her arms on the counter, Hope watched her friend load the tray, thinking of Miles’ endless appetite. “Yeah. He’s seen me naked, Sandie, and I don’t know a damn thing about him.”

  Sandie shrugged with an impish grin. “I pushed Zach into sex with me without knowing anything about him. Turned out to be darn good sex.”

  “That’s because you thought you would never see him again after a few days.”

  “True. You want more from Miles than a short-term affair?”

  Hope straightened and snatched a cheese slice. “I don’t know. I have… trust issues, and a past I’m not sure he would…”

  “There’s no way I’ll believe you ever did anything deliberately so wrong that it would drive Miles away, Hope. He—all these guys are honorable and protective, but that’s because of their rough childhoods. They’re very close and know what happened in each of their lives that landed them in that summer camp together. I know about Zach’s mother, and I’ve heard Dax recently mention his twin sister who died young. Jackson just returned from visiting his mother for the first time in over twenty years, but I don’t know anything else about any of the others and won’t pry.”

  “No, I wouldn’t ask you to. Thanks anyway.”

  Picking up the tray, Sandie said, “Julie spent weeks fretting over whether Jackson, a man she’d known since they were kids, would walk away from her if he found out all the details that led to her friends’ murders. If you really want to make a stab at a relationship with Miles, my only advice is to tell him what he wants to know. It’ll come out eventually anyway. As far as information about him, why don’t you just ask him?”

  “Really?” Hope returned in a dry tone. “Has he ever come across as a man who would invite or welcome personal questions?”

  “Well, no, now that you put it that way. Of the seven of them, he is the quietest and hardest to get to know.” Sandie came around the counter then paused by Hope. “Look, one thing Zach mentioned in confidence was that Miles’ childhood was the worst out of all of them. I suspect abusive, which would account for his aggression toward those who go after women and kids, but no one’s ever said it.”

  A tightness gripped Hope’s chest when she pictured Miles as a little boy with bruises. The image was so different from the strong, take charge man she’d been involved with the past few weeks. “I guess I’d better decide what I want, and what I’m willing to do to get it.”

  “The sooner the better. None of these guys like to be kept in the dark once they’ve decided to commit, and I suspect our Miles might be the worst of the group.”

  “Wine’s almost gone, you two. Are you going to join us again, or not?” Krista called out.

  “Hey, I don’t have to drive, so save that for me,” Sandie demanded, returning the tray to the coffee table.

  Hope listened with only half an ear to the rest of the conversations, wishing she could just blurt out what had occurred at her and Craig’s apartment that night six years ago. A part of her was tempted to just get it out in the open and suffer the consequences, if there were any. None of them judged or condemned Julie when she told them how she’d stood by and didn’t interfere when her friends taunted a disabled, misshapen young man who then later took his rage out on them with a knife. Why should she worry they would turn against her when she’d only been acting in self-defense?

  Driving home, Hope was forced to come to terms with a harsh truth. The crux of the matter wasn’t fear of losing her new friends, although that was a factor, but that she hadn’t loved Craig, not the way a woman should love a man she planned to spend the rest of her life with. She hadn’t missed him when they weren’t together, or ached to hear his voice, or craved to feel his hard body thrusting inside hers, night after night. Not like she did… Miles.

  She’d grown up going along with her parents’ plans for her: the prep high school, Ivy League college followed by the high-profile job. Whenever their demands became too constrictive, she rebelled by accepting a dare from her friends and rocking the boat with an antic sure to piss them off. When they’d introduced her to Craig Fallon, from the Fallon family, and spouted his family’s prestigious background and financial influence, she’d gone along with the match they’d deemed best for her.

  Guilt could be an insidious emotion to live with, forcing her to struggle with self-blame, constantly wondering if she’d crossed a moral line by going to that club and allowing that Dom to touch her when she’d been engaged. Had she been rebelling against a match she really didn’t want and parents who couldn’t see that? She had only returned to Atlanta twice since leaving, and neither her family nor her friends had visited her here in Miami. To this day, Hope didn’t know how Craig had known where she’d been the night of her bachelorette party, or how he’d heard about her first spanking. His scathing, cold rebuke of her actions had dimmed the lingering glow of her first full-fledged, off-the-charts orgasm, and left her to question whether her response to that man’s control and hard hand had been as explosive as she remembered.

  Until she met Miles.

  Hope parked behind the shelter, made sure she took a good look around before getting out of her car then made her way upstairs to her small apartment, waving to Bobby who sat reading a book in the hall.

  “G’night, Hope,” he called out.

  “See you tomorrow, Bobby.”

  There was family, then there was family, she mused as she stripped on her way to the bedroom. She felt a fondness toward the older man she had never felt toward her father, and trusted, relied on and leaned on him and Martha and Traci to keep the shelter running smoothly. After pulling on a tee shirt she’d bought at Jackson’s fundraiser for his animal shelter, she sank down on her bed and picked up Craig’s picture.

  He’d been nice looking, in a blond-haired, surfer boy way, and he’d had an ego to match his good looks. His only family, aside from his parents, had been a much younger half-brother from his father’s third marri
age, and she wondered if they all still harbored the same vitriolic hatred for her they had exhibited during the months following Craig’s death. Christian, his brother, had only been twelve or thirteen at the time, and the pain reflected on his young face still haunted her. If she had never accepted a proposal from Craig or had broken it off with him when she should have, he would still be alive today, and that was a burden she would always carry.

  Opening the drawer in her bedside table, she placed his picture face down and vowed to throw it away tomorrow. Regrets or not, it was time for her to move on.

  Miles took his time walking from the gym down to Hope’s Crossing, working to get his irritation under control before he confronted Hope. He’d been annoyed when she didn’t show for class, then, after he’d questioned the girls and learned she’d had more vandalism at the shelter this week, his attitude only worsened. The problem was, he couldn’t say who he was upset with more, himself for not insisting she share her problems with him, or her for continuing to withhold everything except her body from him. Not that he didn’t love her body, and her submissive responses, but he was coming to grips with the fact he wanted more from a woman for the first time. Traci’s explanation Hope had gotten tied up counseling a resident of the shelter did little to appease not only his desire to see her again, but to insist she put her safety above anyone else’s needs.

  “Yeah, like that’s going to happen,” he muttered under his breath as he let himself into the shelter, which stayed open until close to 10:00 p.m. For all her willing submissiveness, Hope possessed an independent streak when it came to her work and those in her care.

  Nodding to Bobby, who lounged behind the reception desk, he asked, “Is she in her office?”

  “Down the hall and to the right, but I think she still has someone in with her,” Bobby called out as Miles ignored the hint, pivoted and strode down the hall.

  Feminine voices came through the slightly ajar door to Hope’s office, one firm, one weepy. He paused a moment, straining to hear what he was tempted to interrupt.

  “I can’t help you, Meg, not if you insist on going back to him again. This makes three times.” Hope’s soft voice held a note of warning.

  “He says he’s gotten help, things will be better now.”

  “He said that last time. You do know he tried to scare me into letting him see you a short time ago. Trust me, he hasn’t changed.”

  Miles mentally shook his head. He admired Hope for trying but knew only too well how women wanted to believe their abuser could change. His irritation with her slid away. How could he fault her for trying to keep this woman from making a big mistake?

  “You want me to return to Montana, don’t you?” the young woman said on a long-suffering sigh.

  “You’d be safe with your family. There’s a reason Davidson talked you into moving down here with him. The further away from your law-enforcement family, the better. Go home, Meg. Start over before your chances to do so run out. And take a self-defense class, so that the next time a guy swings his fist at you, you have a chance against him.” He heard a chair scrape back, and figured Hope was ending their talk. “You’ve got a plane ticket, and Bobby has offered to get you to the airport. Either get on that plane and don’t look back, or return to Davidson, but I can’t keep a bed for you if you choose him again. I’m sorry.”

  “I-I understand.”

  Miles remained leaning against the wall as Hope opened her door the rest of the way and a young woman, no more than twenty, stepped out with red-rimmed eyes. “I agree with Ms. Wallace. I met your ex, you won’t fare well with him, ever.” He nailed Hope with a look before adding, “Her advice about learning to defend yourself is good. Listen to it.”

  Meg cast a swift glance at Hope, who stood behind her. Before she could blast him for listening in, Bobby approached with a fatherly look and attitude toward the young woman.

  “Let’s go, Meg. You know you don’t have a choice.”

  Her narrow shoulders drooped, but she nodded her head and followed Bobby out the back door to his car, much to everyone’s relief. Miles waited until they were outside before telling Hope, “Tough love is harder than hell, isn’t it?”

  Hope saw compassion and understanding reflected on Miles’ hard face, and her initial displeasure at finding him loitering outside her office fell away. She suspected he understood better than she did.

  “Yes, but sometimes necessary. You’re here because I missed class.” She found herself wishing he’d stopped by just to see her, but until she got up the nerve to tell him about Craig, she knew it would be best if she reined in such wayward thoughts.

  Miles nodded. “Why is it you’re having such a hard time taking your own advice?”

  “I’m not a victim.” She never thought of herself in the same terms as some of the women who ended up in the shelter. Her actions, going to that club, agreeing to submit to a man she’d never met before, had always, she’d felt, meant part of the blame for Craig’s anger fell on her shoulders. She accepted that and worked daily to atone for it.

  “Since I’ve known you, you’ve been assaulted once, been on the cusp of being assaulted again, and you’ve got a scar proving you were a victim at one time.”

  She wanted to tell him she hadn’t run from an abuser, like some of these people, but wasn’t that what she’d done by leaving Atlanta? “That was… different, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Fine. I have time to give you a private make-up class now. Do we need to wait until Bobby returns?”

  Hope wasn’t surprised when her body went hot and soft again, this time just from the word ‘private’, said in that hard, commanding tone. She shook her head, anticipation rushing through her body with the speed and exhilaration of a body-jarring carnival ride. He didn’t ask, which made it even easier for her to stand and let him take her elbow. “No, the night manager has already arrived.”

  “Let’s go then.”

  Dom, my butt, he’s a damn sadist. Hope blew out a breath, wiped her damp brow with the back of her wrist and glared at Miles. As soon as she’d changed into the gi, leaving off her underwear per his instructions, and entered the now empty gym, he’d been putting her through a grilling routine. Between the warm-ups, a run-through of what she’d learned thus far followed by teaching her three kicks, she was out of breath, her skin damp from her exertions and her muscles quivering. The constant torment of low-level arousal from bouncing and rolling around with him didn’t help. Her breasts were too large to go braless much, and the loose tunic and pants emphasized her nakedness under them, a distraction she did not need.

  “You need to aim higher on your axe kick. Remember, you’re shooting for the head or clavicle. Try again.” Miles crossed his arms, those bare, sexy feet braced apart, his black-eyed, direct gaze daring her to defy him.

  “Not all of us have years as a champion under our belt,” she returned, miffed he criticized that last kick, which she thought had been perfect.

  “You could, if you came to class and practiced.”

  “I told you, my work—” He held up a hand to stop her.

  “Master, or Master C. Forgetting again will land you in trouble.” That stern mouth softened when he caught the instant pucker of her nipples, and she didn’t know whose reaction affected her more. “This might help. Come over here.”

  Hope followed him to a hanging punching bag where he stepped behind it and held onto the sides. “Pretend this bag is the person who gave you that scar. Remember the pain, and the fear, then put your determination to save yourself behind your moves. Come at the bag with an axe kick first.”

  Drawing a deep breath, she pictured Craig’s face suffused with rage, replayed his cutting words as he came after her. Fucking, whoring cunt. Did you think I wouldn’t find out where you’ve been, what you’ve been doing behind my back? He had given her no time to answer or defend herself, grabbing her as soon as she entered the apartment. Taking one step forward with her left leg, she lifted her right an
d kicked straight up toward the top of the bag. The whack forced Miles to take a step back with the bag from the jarring impact, the surprise on his face comical before he wiped it clean.

  “Good. Again.”

  The desire to see and hear that approval again was as strong as the urge to pretend she was taking Craig down, making him suffer without killing him. She delivered another successful kick then followed Miles’ instruction to switch to a back kick. Remembering her ex’s soft abdomen and the way he used to belittle her efforts in bed, she pivoted, stepped back and swung out, her heel landing in the middle of the bag with a solid punch.

  “Again. Aim lower, for a kneecap.”

  Another spot-on connection, followed by two spinning back kicks that were just as successful, the second one more so because of his suggestion, “There’s always the groin.” She was panting, her heart pumping in a mad rhythm of over-charged adrenaline when Miles called a halt. Breathing a sigh of relief, she started to sink down onto the mat when he came around the bag and pulled her flush against him. His hard mouth covered her gasp of surprise, then she was melting into him, leaning on all those strong muscles, trusting him to hold her up when her legs went weak in surrender to his rough possession.

  God, what the man can do with his mouth ought to be illegal. The skillful way he used his lips, tongue and teeth to take and explore every inch of her mouth reminded her of how he’d used the same techniques between her legs. Would she ever get enough of him and this journey into exploring her submissive cravings, or would she be left to continue craving more long after they split? He released her mouth with a low groan that vibrated deep inside Hope. His next words had her shoving aside her last unanswered question in favor of answering a much easier one.

  “Stay the night.”

  Giddy with pleasure at the invitation, even if it meant a sleepless night followed by rising early, she couldn’t help teasing him a little. “Okay, Master C, but I’ve got to warn you, I don’t have any strength left for any more… extra- curricular activities. You’ve already worn me out.”