As he drove on Summerlin Avenue past a side view of Lake Olive and surrounding oak trees, heavy with long spirals of Spanish moss, an impatient driver beeped behind him. Joe veered to the right, opening enough room for the small car to speed angrily by. He sighed. On this lovely Sunday afternoon, he wouldn’t allow anyone to rush him or spoil the experience. The magnificent gardens the homeowners created had been a source of inspiration for several of his landscaping projects.
Joe turned on Pine, then north on Hyer, heading toward the Four Rivers fountain, another charming landmark of this area and a miniscule reproduction of the much-larger Fontaine de la place Louvois in Paris. He circled the roundabout, entered Washington Street, and slipped left into Danielle’s driveway, taking up the remaining free space behind her Audi Cabriolet convertible.
He cut the engine and slid to the ground, letting out a long breath as he admired the gorgeous machine with conflicted thoughts and emotions. The time to put his plan in motion had come. For the sake of his mother, he’d delayed it much too long. Which meant once he started, weeks maybe months would pass before he and Danielle tooled around town in this wonder of engineering again. He was tempted to squash his revenge idea altogether. But if he did, the sin would go unpunished and… He’d never know Hunter Giordano on a more intimate level.
Hell, no. She wasn’t escaping him.
Plus…she interested him.
Shaking his head, he stuffed his hands into his pockets as he ambled past two large clumps of bird of paradise guarding both sides of the walkway. Joe scowled at the bloomless plants. He’d worked for nothing. Ignoring Danielle’s protests, he’d pruned her live oak’s overgrown branches, eliminating the slightest shade, had fertilized the soil according to every manual he’d read, and still, the stubborn plants refused to sprout a single flower. Would they bloom this summer? Would he get to enjoy the fruit of his efforts?
Stop it. He scolded himself at the awkward twinge of melancholia. He was becoming a sap in his old age.
Stepping onto the freshly painted porch, he lifted his hand to knock. The door opened before he touched the wood.
Naked as the day she was born, Danielle flew into his arms, wrapping her silky perfumed body around him.
Stunned, Joe gasped and took a wide step to retain his balance. He caught Danielle instinctively, supporting her weight and gathering her close before they both tumbled to the floor.
“You’re nuts,” he muttered as he hurried inside the house carrying her. “You know that, right?” He slapped her bottom cheek hard. Her warm flesh jiggled under his palm, and Danielle shivered, releasing a soft squeal.
“Aww, don’t be cross, Daddy.” Her mouth brushed his earlobe. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“Daddy, huh? Buttering me up?” Frowning, he relaxed his hold. She was forced to slip to the floor. “Did I say I wanted a surprise?”
Danielle padded back on her bare feet, opening some distance between them. Her brown eyes widened at his terse response. Her full lower lip trembled. She bit a corner as doubt crept on her face.
Perfect.
Certainty was a forbidden word in their relationship, same as predictability. Both terms led to routine and boredom—enemies of excitement. As soon as he read the tiniest confidence in Danielle, he’d yank the rug from under her feet or switch their play around.
“Did I?” Tilting his head, he moved closer, although, not too close. He was enjoying Danielle’s puckered nipples and perky breasts rising up and down with her rapid breaths.
“Oh.” She reached for her neck, a gesture of confusion he knew too well. The movement obstructed the delightful view her tits presented, and without thinking, he pushed her hand aside.
The corner of her mouth quirked up. Man, he was so busted. She knew him too. Danielle’s expression revealed her mental calculations. Maybe he wasn’t as angry as he pretended. Maybe her unexpected naked assault affected him after all.
Joe almost laughed when she brazenly tested his control. Pressing her palm against her flat belly, she tapped her forefinger, pointing at her denuded mound—subtle yet highly effective.
Another male would stop resisting and buckle at the sweet invitation. Not Joe. Although his cock had stiffened, ready for action, they had set up rules of engagement. He ordered, and she followed. That was the right balance between them, what worked. Anything else would ruin their exchange.
Placing his fists on his hips, he shook his head in full dominant mode. “No apology? Someone’s looking to get punished.”
She stiffened. Her breasts jiggled, and he restrained the desire to cup and fondle them to his satisfaction. Instead, he stepped forward and tweaked one nipple between his knuckles.
Danielle shivered. Her nostrils flared. Her lips parted as her breaths turned to shallow pants. She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue.
Hell, she was beautiful and so perfect for him, responsive in every way. He didn’t have to feel through her labia to know she was already wet with arousal. And that was the course her punishment would take.
“We have a table at Prato’s in Winter Park. I thought we’d spend a couple of hours outside, relaxing over a martini, but—” He glanced toward her bedroom. “All right, new plans. We’ll walk to Marie’s bistro on Hyer. You haven’t worn your remote-control vibrator in a while. Are the batteries good?”
“Y-yes. I…ch-change them every three months.”
Smiling, Joe caressed her downy cheek. “Good girl. That shaved two minutes off your punishment.” He dropped his fingers to her jaw and around her neck. Tugging her gently forward, he placed a soft kiss on her lips.
Might as well soothe her before climax denial began. The next few hours would be tough.
Tough, yes, but the rewards…
“You know the drill. Bring me the vibrator and panties. I’ll put both on for you. Now go.” He turned Danielle by the shoulders, then slapped her bum as she walked away. “Hurry.”
By the time Joe called Prato’s and cancelled his reservation, Danielle had returned with her panties and toy. He sat by the breakfast nook table, where the natural light was the brightest, and motioned for her to approach.
“Okay, let’s do this.” Keeping an all-business attitude, he positioned her hips squarely in front of him. “Open your legs,” he murmured, patting her silky inner thigh. He ran his finger through her moist inner folds as he locked his gaze with hers. “Mmm…delicious. You’re so ready. Lean on my shoulder and step in, one leg at a time.”
Danielle did as he directed. He slipped her lacy G-string up, inserted the curved vibrator down the front, and cupped it firmly against her clit.
“Comfortable?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
“Pinch anywhere?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Excellent.”
He turned the gadget on, and she jerked at the sudden stimulation.
“Joe!”
“No, sweet pet.” He frowned. “You know better. Tonight it’s Sir.”
Protocol had been set. Danielle dropped her arms to her sides, and her head fell forward in complete acquiescence. She remained silent, waiting for further instructions.
Joe smiled with approval. “When we get to Marie’s, we’ll hang out at the bar first. I still want to relax and enjoy a martini. You’ll sit on a stool facing me so I can watch you squirm and shift. I’ll turn the vibrator on and off as I wish and when I wish. I’m going to arouse you, take you to the edge, but you do not have permission to climax, unless I say so. Don’t try to cheat and sneak a little one in. I’ll know if you do. To visit the restroom, use the standard signal. Show me your palm, and I’ll tell you when. Any questions?”
“No, Sir.”
“Remember the safeword, Danielle.”
“I won’t need it, Sir.”
He crossed his arms. “That’s five additional minutes.”
“Sorry, Sir. Sweet to go, sharp to stop.”
“Better. Wear a skirt, love. I want full access to you wh
ile we’re out,” he whispered, running his hands along her lovely full hips in a slow caress. “Also, a thin blouse and no bra. You have the most amazing long nipples.” Abandoning a hip, he reached up to her breast. As he spoke, he grazed lazily over an erect tip with his fingernail. It stood hard against the sensual abrasion. Tiny bumps formed around her pink areola.
“Hmmm, perfect.” Joe leaned in and drew her full nipple into his mouth, tasting the sweet skin while checking her reactions. Danielle shivered, but kept her gaze lowered. She didn’t protest or move when he released her.
“These babies are staying stiff all through dinner. I intend to show ’em off. Guys in the restaurant are going to drool and hate my guts.”
Danielle blushed deep red. “Y-yes, Sir.”
“It’s not the punishment you expected.”
She shook her head again.
Chuckling, Joe kissed her belly button. “Be a good girl, and you’ll scream with pleasure when it’s over, love. I promise.”
The man perched midway on a twelve-foot ladder was so intent on his pruning job, he didn’t move or react when Joe parked his truck on the curb. Keeping his eyes glued to the lanky form, Joe turned off the engine, jumped out, and slammed his door shut as hard as he could. The metallic thud did it. Shears in hand, the guy flipped around. His ladder wobbled, threatening to throw him down.
“Hey, Marine, careful up there.” Joe chuckled under his breath as he strode on a cushion of manicured lawn, his boots leaving indentations in his path. “If you fall, I’m not rushing your sorry behind to the ER.”
“My…what?” The man arched an eyebrow toward his thick salt-and-pepper hairline. “Remember your training, boy. I’m still your superior. And watch where you tread.” He waved the shears’ long-nosed tip in the direction of a multicolored flower bed. “I just planted those petunias.”
Joe paused, holding up his palms. “I’ll be careful. I wouldn’t dream of spoiling your dainty arrangement.”
“Dainty?” The man’s deep voice boomed as he carefully descended from step to step, working mostly on the left leg. His right leg followed, stiff and unbending. “You need a refresher session, boy. I’ve been called elegant and precise, but dainty? Never. No one would dare.”
“A million pardons, Master Kurt.” Joe bent, affecting a mock bow and hiding a smirk.
“Apology accepted.” Kurt clasped Joe’s wrist and pulled him into a half embrace, slapping his shoulder with affection. “What’re you doing wandering around my neighborhood on a Monday morning? Did you get lost?” Curiosity had pushed aside his mock irritation.
“I spent the night with Danielle and decided to take the day off.” He dug the tip of one boot into the cushiony layer of grass. A wave of jumbled thoughts roiled in his mind. “Don’t have any business appointments, plus some stuff has come up and I…could use guidance.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It is.” Joe exhaled. “Landed on my lap out of nowhere.”
“Well, you have my attention.” Kurt shoved the pruners deep in his pant’s side pocket. “Let’s talk about it inside.”
“But, I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.”
“Sure you did.” Kurt winked. “It’s alright, the crape myrtles can wait. Come.” He pivoted on his good leg. Without turning to see if Joe followed him, he slowly shuffled back inside the house.
“You know where everything is, so make yourself at home,” Kurt murmured as he grabbed a cane by the door. He took a sharp turn to the right, entering his kitchen. “Would you like a bottle of water?”
“I’d love one. Thank you.” Joe scanned the place. Since the last time he’d visited his friend and mentor’s home, not much had changed. Kurt Allendorf favored a minimalist modern décor. In a different house, the straight lines of his spartan furnishings could convey a cold, impersonal atmosphere. Kurt had warmed the look with a growing collection of abstract female nudes decorating his walls.
“Is that one new?” Joe pointed at a painting midhallway. “I like the ochre strokes delineating the woman’s hips and torso…the sweep of her breasts.” He stepped closer to the oil on canvas. “Hmm, the indolent arm reposing over her belly button is quite seductive.”
Kurt spoke behind him. “Yes. There’s great movement in the piece. You could almost see her face. Anyone’s face, really, and that’s the beauty. The painting frees the imagination.”
A disembodied hand holding a bottle of water appeared out of his blind spot. Joe grabbed it. By the time he turned, Kurt was limping toward his living room. He draped his lanky form on his charcoal leather sofa as he stretched one arm along the low backrest. He leaned back, guzzling half his water in one shot. “Ah… Damn, I was thirstier than I thought.”
Joe sat opposite Kurt. He sipped slowly as he tried to organize the events that brought him here and the plan he had in mind. Kurt knew Billy and his close friendship with Joe from Afghanistan. They’d all been in the same command, but after shrapnel from a roadside IED mangled Kurt’s leg from the knee down, he was sent home. Kurt hadn’t seen the changes in the kid after the infamous letter arrived, nor had he witnessed Billy’s suicide by combat.
“I found her.” The plastic bottle in Joe’s fingers crackled when he squeezed. Kurt nodded, waiting for more. “You’re not going to believe it. The woman responsible for Billy’s death, the one who wrote the letter lives and works in St. Cloud.”
Still silent, Kurt leaned forward. He clasped one wrist as he dropped his arms between his thighs. A frown appeared on his forehead.
“And I wasn’t even looking for her. You know? As it turns out, she’s done the same thing to other men. One after another, she’s left a trail of broken hearts.”
Kurt’s frown tightened.
Joe couldn’t help the deepening sense of discomfort. Kurt’s disapproving glare was famous in their circle for its intensity. His submissives trembled before it. And right now, his steel gaze had the quality of a sharp knife suspended in midair waiting to be released. One quick move, and the blade would fly into Joe’s ribs.
“Don’t give me that look.” Joe rubbed his thickening beard.
“Jesus, man. Are you thinking payback?” Kurt stiffened. “Didn’t you come to me for advice?”
“Yes, I did, but—”
“That shit never turns out right. Brings on bad karma.”
“Really? Don’t talk to me about bad karma. What about my buddy Billy, the injustice done to him? His young life snuffed out in a hail of bullets.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”
Kurt blew out a large breath. “You trust me, right? Hear me out. Revenge consumes everyone, hurts all parties. Haven’t you heard the old saying, ‘Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves’?”
“Bullshit. What’s with this eastern philosophical trash?” He took a long swig. His throat felt dry and scratchy. He’d thought he’d get support here, not this mumbo-jumbo nonsense.
“Have you spoken to this woman about the situation? Do you know why she sent that letter? There could be mitigating circumstances.”
“Oh, sure. Warn her so she can lie and escape? It’s not happening.”
Kurt waved a pacifying hand. “Down, boy. Take a deep breath before you blow a gasket.”
“I can’t help it. Billy was a good kid, nonjudgmental, and with a heart of gold. He was smart and judicious, unlike most guys his age. Okay, so he was a little naïve, so what? He didn’t deserve what she did to him.”
“What will you do?”
“Hmmm…” He shrugged. “In her letter, Hunter Giordano claimed she couldn’t love Billy because she didn’t know what that is. And here’s the interesting part. She’s a closet submissive.”
Kurt straightened. “Seriously? You’ve hardly spoken to her. How could you know this?”
“You know I have an eye for it. Submissive is written all over her—her gestures, her smiles, her eyes. Her behavior transmits the hidden trait. I’m going to exploit that. I intend to seduce her, and
when she falls, and she must fall hard, I’ll walk out of her life without an explanation.”
“That’s not good form. We never abandon a submissive.” Kurt’s intensity returned. The knives hovered in the air, ready to fly at his command.
Joe glared back. “I don’t care, this is retribution. Her payback.”
“Don’t bring her to the club for a scene,” Kurt snapped. “If you do, friend or not, I’ll kick your ass out.”
Joe smirked. “I won’t. My condo playroom is fully outfitted.”
“Jesus.” Kurt rubbed his sharp jaw. His thick salt-and-pepper locks fell over his furrowed brow. “I have a bad feeling about this. Life will handle her sins. You’re a good man. Don’t take that burden on. This could haunt you, turn against you in the worst possible way. Let it go, Joe.”
“It’s not happening. I know you mean well, but Hunter can’t get away with it. Whatever debt I may incur, I’ll gladly pay it.”
“Ouch.” Kurt grimaced. “Now, you’re spitting against the wind. Please, go back to Danielle. Where the hell is Elena? She’s a real spitfire. She’ll keep you busy. Forget this woman.”
“Not a chance. The opportunity landed on my lap, nice and easy. Don’t you see? She’s right there, within striking distance. I only need to reach out and…” Joe held up his hand and clenched it into a tight fist.
“Squeeze,” Kurt murmured.
“Damn right.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“HEY, LADY. THIS is a nice coincidence.”
Hunter stiffened in place.
Joe Reid.
The greeting, spoken in his deep voice, was a feathery caress over her exposed neck. Her lips parted, seeking air, as her traitorous skin tingled with uninhibited delight.
She mentally cursed the efficient ponytail she’d tied as she left home. It had seemed the right choice then.
Caught as she was in the surprise of the moment, the busy supermarket aisles and crisscross patterns of frazzled customers pushing full shopping carts faded out of sight. The oatmeal package in her hand fell noisily on top of a box of cheese crackers.
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