“For what?” Kent yanked her closer, pushing his erection into her side.
“For breaking your cup.”
When she’d been doing dishes, one of the coffee mugs slipped out of her grasp and shattered on the kitchen floor. Supposedly, she was being disciplined for cracking it, but it was an excuse—Kent got off on cruelty.
“Good girl. Now beg me.”
“Please forgive me.”
Kent unfastened her wrists with the key he kept around his throat. Rose tumbled to the floor, unable to stand. She’d lost track of how long she’d been hanging there like a dress on a clothesline. Her aching joints told her it’d been hours.
Kent grabbed her by the ponytail, gripping it tight, and dragged her as she half-crawled to the bed, gasping in agony all the while. He tossed her over it, sprawled on her belly, and then he was inside her.
She shrieked as he slammed into her. She was dry, and the delicate tissues tore and bled under his assault. Bonelessly, she lay there while he pounded her and closed her eyes, trying to drift away from this awful place, away from her body—away from him.
She was grateful when he finally came. Kent slumped on top of her for a while, pinning her beneath his weight. Then he staggered to his feet and tucked himself back in his pants.
“Clean yourself up.” He zipped up his fly.
She started to cry.
Kent laughed. “Didn’t anyone tell you? Love hurts, sweetheart.”
He waltzed out of the room, whistling, sated and happy after violating her.
Rose was left with a stark realization. She’d become Kent’s masturbation object, like a discarded sock or a sticky magazine—that’s what her life had become. On shaking legs, she crept to the bathroom and into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the blood, semen, and tears.
A mechanical shriek broke the silence.
With a shout, Rose sat upright in bed. Wildly, she scanned the room and remembered where she was. Dammit. No matter how far away she got from Kent, her nightmares always carried her right back to him.
Shaking it off, she smacked the silencing button on the alarm and climbed out of bed. According to the clock, she had about an hour to get ready and then head over to Duke’s house.
She was eager to get started on her training; the sooner she did, the better off she’d be. Rose grabbed the clothes she’d laid out and went into the bathroom. She’d gotten a shower last night, but she felt like she needed another one. On a rational level, Rose knew she was clean. Kent hadn’t raped her in her sleep, but she couldn’t help it. She climbed in the shower and scoured her body anyway.
After the shower, she pulled her long hair up into a bun and then threw on a shirt and sweatpants before running down to the diner for breakfast.
When she breezed in the door, she found the place nearly empty. There was an old couple in the far corner, sipping cups of coffee. Fetch sat on a stool at the counter paging through the Victoria Secret catalog.
Yuck. He didn’t even acknowledge her for a moment, evidently mesmerized by a scantily clad model. Rose cleared her throat.
No response.
“Shopping for new panties?” Hmph. A little sass came out.
Stunned, he dropped the catalog to the floor with a small thunk.
“Uh, hi, Rose. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like a honey butter biscuit and coffee with cream and sugar to go, please.”
“Sure. No problem.” He frowned. “Did you say somethin’ ’bout undies?”
“No.” Rose rolled her eyes. Figures he would fixate on the unmentionables—the Horsemen and their underwear fetish.
Voodoo came from the back room carrying a couple of loaves of freshly baked French bread—they smelled amazing, like yeast and a warm, sunny kitchen.
“Good morning, cherie.”
He wore a tight pair of black leather pants and a red muscle shirt with a skull printed on the front. Voodoo was a couple of inches over six feet tall, and he had rich mocha skin and discerning silver eyes.
Come to think of it, Rose had never seen an unattractive Horsemen.
“Morning, Voo.”
He dusted off his hands and came out from behind the counter to sit on a stool beside her while Fetch poured her coffee and buttered her biscuit.
“Duke said you’d be borrowing the truck.” He handed her a set of keys from his back pocket. “Whatcha doin’ with him?”
“Um, helping him with some household chores.” Lying had never been her strong suit.
Voo shook his head. “That be a lie.”
“He has, uh, a lot of dishes. And laundry.” Get the lead out, Fetch.
“You’re a terrible liar, cherie. I can see the truth on your face.”
Voodoo continued to stare at her, trying to make her crack.
Rose said nothing.
Voodoo crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t make you tell me the truth, but watch yourself. Duke is my brother, but he’s a bit of an asshole, no?”
Rose couldn’t disagree with the characterization, though she didn’t feel the need to be wary with Duke. He’d never hurt her.
“I will. You mind keeping all of this to yourself?”
“I see. It’s a secret then? From everyone or just your sister?”
Damn, he was insightful.
“Everyone.”
After a long moment, he nodded. “You may count on my discretion, cherie.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Order up.” Fetch appeared with a pastry bag and a to-go cup. He set them both on the counter for her.
Rose hopped off the stool and picked up her breakfast—then hurried out the door before Voodoo asked her any more uncomfortable questions.
***
As she drove, Rose ate her biscuit and sipped the coffee.
It felt good to be out on her own and away from the hotel. She’d been going stir crazy being cooped up all day—or maybe training with Duke had given her a sense of purpose, some optimism. Regardless, she was in a decent mood, despite the stalker issue.
Today, she’d start taking control of her life again, learn to defend herself.
Minutes later, Rose pulled into Duke’s driveway.
Given his penchant for privacy, it was no surprise that he barely lived within the city limits, and his nearest neighbor was two miles away. He owned a large three-story log cabin, set back from the road and flanked by enormous pine trees. There was a long wrap-around porch complete with old-fashioned rocking chairs, a great room visible through the large windows, and a slate tile patio to one side, along with a hot tub. She parked the truck, tucked the keys into her pocket, and headed inside.
***
Duke threw open the door to see Rose standing there, wide-eyed and a bit nervous. He’d have an uphill battle teaching her how to fight. She gave off a damsel in distress vibe, but he’d soon fix that.
“Mornin’, Firecracker.”
“Firecracker?”
“Yeah, I nicknamed you Firecracker as a reminder.”
“Why?”
“I want to see more of your moxie today—be the girl who slapped me.”
“I will.”
She lifted her chin slightly, and he could see the fire reignite in her eyes. Good, he’d dared her to prove herself to him, and she’d risen to the challenge.
Duke clasped his hands together, suddenly feeling awkward as ass around her.
“Come with me. We’ll go to the gym and get started.”
“Wow. You have your own gym?”
Calling the room a gym was a bit of an exaggeration. Sure, he had a few yoga mats, a set of weights, a stationary bike, and a couple of punching bags—but compared to his stepfather’s home, it was random workout equipment in a spare room.
Then again, his stepfather had a full-time personal trainer, an Olympic-sized pool, a steam room, stationary bikes, several sets of weights, a couple of treadmills, a rowing machine, and tons of other equipment.
Shaking his head, h
e indicated a chair near a rack of weights, and she sat. Duke paced back and forth, speaking off the top of his head. He’d thought of all sorts of training ideas last night. Why hadn’t he written this shit down?
Oh, yeah, because he’d been sexually obsessing over her and touching himself like a teenager. Now she was all alone with him, and he kept fantasizing about taking her downstairs to The Vault. He could spend the day training her to be his submissive instead.
Fuck.
Duke forced his thoughts to the present.
“Okay, then. We’ll treat this exactly like a workout. We’ll warm up a bit, spar, then cool down to round things out. And I have my RFID kit, and I’ll inject a chip before you go. Remind me if I forget.”
“Will do.”
“Time for ground rules. We’ll use the traffic light system.”
“The what?”
“I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise. Kent didn’t use it with you?”
She shook her head.
It was the bedrock of safe, sane, and consensual BDSM play. He used the rules with new submissives he played with, until he’d built up more trust with them. With an established partner, he had a better idea of what she enjoyed and didn’t like as well. In those cases, an ordinary safe word worked unless they pushed her limits. It felt strange to use them in this context, but Rose needed to be completely at ease with him.
Or maybe you want to think about it later while you’re fucking your own fist.
Duke ignored the sly voice in his head.
He listed the lights on his fingers. “Green for go, yellow for caution, and red for stop. If you’re feeling uncomfortable, say yellow, and I’ll slow down, or if it’s really bad, say red, and I’ll stop. Got it?”
“Gotcha.”
“We’re gonna warm up with some stretching, and then I’ll teach you a basic fightin’ stance, and we’ll go from there.”
Duke grabbed a couple of yoga mats and set them a couple of feet apart on the wooden floor. They went through some basic stretching–the calves, quadriceps, hips, and other muscle groups. He made a real effort not to stare at her, but when she bent over to hold on to the back of her legs, he checked out her ass again.
“So, do I get a gun?”
Duke flinched. Right…platonic training. “Why do you need a gun?”
“Um… to shoot people.”
“Have you ever used one before?”
“Well, no, but I could learn.”
“Hell no. You’re a novice, and it’d take you months to become capable with one. I’m only teachin’ you to defend yourself. I ain’t makin’ you into the next Bonnie Parker.”
“Yeah, but Daisy has a gun.” Rose pulled one arm across her chest, flexing it.
“Daisy was a Marine.” Duke stretched his arms over his head.
“Don’t you think I’d be safer with one?”
Most people assumed it was a matter of pointing and shooting. He’d had extensive weapons training in the military, and it was a lot harder than it looked.
“Fuck, no. Any idiot can go to Wal-Mart and buy a piece, but you gotta know how to use it. Respect the gun, or it’ll get you killed. I should know, I was a sniper in the Special Forces.”
“Holy hell. You must be a good shot.”
“I’m an incredible shot.” Duke could put some poor bastard in the crosshairs and pull the trigger without hesitation.
“So you’d make a terrific teacher then...”
He busted out laughing at her technique. She was putting him through his paces, trying to get him to agree to what she wanted. Duke was relieved Kent hadn’t quashed her spirit entirely. She seemed to be getting better, inching towards the girl he assumed she used to be—but of course, she’d never be exactly the same
“Nice try, but we’ll stick to self-defense.”
After a few minutes, he spoke again.
“Okay, I think we’re stretched for today. I’m gonna teach you a fightin’ stance.”
He prowled around her while she stood standing, facing forward. He could tell he still made her nervous. She kept her shoulders tense, and her hands were fisted at her sides.
“Bend your knees. Stay ready to spring into action.”
She did as he asked.
“Excellent. Now move your elbows in against your torso while keeping your hands near your face so you can block an opponent.”
Once again, Rose complied.
“Good.” But Duke noticed how stiffly she held herself. “But you need to limber up. You’re tense.”
“You’ve no idea.”
Duke chuckled. “We can fix that. Instead of stretching, we’ll cool down with yoga.”
“I still can’t picture you doing yoga.”
“I got banged up pretty good in the military, and I did yoga as part of my physical therapy. It helped loosen me up.”
He’d taken some shrapnel in the thigh. It hadn’t been a huge deal, but he’d been laid up while it healed. Yoga, along with physical therapy, helped get his full range of motion back.
“Okay, keep practicing the stance.”
Duke grabbed a couple of punch mitts from a drawer. They were shaped like an umpire’s gloves, only more padded, so she’d be able to hit him without causing any injury to either of them.
“Ready to hit me?”
“I guess so.”
Duke stood in front of her and held up the punch mitts so she could take a shot at him.
“Go for it.”
Rose bounced from one foot to the other. “I should hit you?”
“Yeah, hit me.”
It was hard to harness anger in a fight. Men had an advantage since they were rough and tumble as children—schoolyard fights and wrestling with their brothers. If Rose wanted to defend herself, she’d have to use her fury on an attacker. The trick was utilizing the anger, but not letting it consume you in the process.
“Let’s try some visualization. Close your eyes.”
Rose shut her eyes.
As a recruit, images of his stepfather in his mind’s eye fueled his wrath. He bet Kent would have the same effect on Rose.
“Picture the bastard who held you prisoner.”
Her nostrils flared, and her breathing picked up.
“Imagine he’s standing in front of you, trying to haul you into his car.”
She trembled.
“No, no, don’t get scared. Get pissed off. He’s trying to kidnap you, rape you again, keep you against your will, and you’re not gonna let it happen again, are you?”
“No.”
“Say it again. Make me believe it!”
“No!”
“What? I can’t fucking hear you—scream it loud enough to bust the dick’s eardrums.”
“NO!” Her features settled into a fierce mask.
There it was.
“Damn straight. Now hit me and don’t you dare hold back.”
She opened her eyes and then went after him, fists flying. While she didn’t have the technique down, she had the right energy—raw pain and fury forged incredible strength. Rose punched at his hands, grunting as she pummeled him. Duke blocked her attacks, letting her expend the emotion in a safe way.
Eventually, she tired herself out, arms falling to her sides, breathing heavy, and sweat streaking her brow.
“Okay, enough for now. We’ll build up your endurance. You need to eat more calories and get more rest because we’re gonna expend a lot of energy.”
“That was….” She paused, searching for the words. “Amazing.”
His sentiments exactly—she was amazing.
She stared down at her own hands as if they belonged to someone else. Duke knew the feeling. Finding out you carried a deep well of rage inside could be disturbing at times but exhilarating too.
It was the closest thing anyone had to a superpower—it made you faster, more violent, and nastier than the other guy. Anyone who’d gone through the kind of ordeal they’d both experienced had an ace in the hole concealed and ready to
unleash if needed.
“I didn’t know I could go after someone like that.”
“I hoped you had it in you. You’ll need it if he comes for you.” Duke checked the clock on the wall and then pulled off his mitts. “We’re out of time. Tonight, I want you to practice getting angry again, and then you’re gonna punch something. Try your pillow for starters, and I’ll give you a speed bag you can hit tomorrow. There’s one at Hades in the gym, but since we’re keepin’ this real quiet-like, I’ll put it in your room.”
Rose nodded.
“Now, let’s cool down, I’ll chip you, and you can be out the door.”
***
The next couple of weeks passed without incident.
Rose hadn’t heard anything more from Kent. Duke created a grueling training schedule—she trained with him and then practiced for a couple of hours a day by herself. Thankfully, no one at the club had commented on her absences. She seemed to be making progress and having a chip made her feel a bit more secure, like a backup plan in case things went south.
One morning, she walked into the gym to find Duke looking solemn, standing in the morning light.
Duke took her breath away—his skin had a golden hue, emphasized by the Horsemen tattoo on his arm. She had the oddest desire to stroke the ink, run her fingers over the outlines.
Rose was attracted to Duke, and it confused the hell out of her. Gawking at him had become a hobby. In the beginning, she’d only wanted to train with him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Her hormones had a mind of their own, and they’d fixated on him.
Tension had built up between them. She often caught Duke watching her out of the corner of her eye. Lord knows she had trouble keeping her eyes off him as well. Rose didn’t know what the attraction was. Maybe because he was her protector and kept her safe.
And whenever he touched her, something stilled inside—and the world quieted down. Rose wanted more—a kiss, a more intimate touch. When she was alone at night, lying in bed, Rose sometimes pictured his hands on her, touching her everywhere.
She had no idea what to do with those feelings—so Rose ignored them. Or tried to, anyway.
“We’ve done some drills so far. Mostly hand-to-hand, but I want to step it up. You’re ready to fend off a more threatening attack.”
Joy Ride: A Virgin Romance (Let it Ride Book 3) Page 20