by Maren Smith
Still, the other woman never said she should bid on Troy; it had all been on a whim.
Liar. It hadn’t been a whim. No, she’d pawned out the last pieces of her jewelry including her engagement ring and wedding bands to afford this event and auction. Troy would be so pissed if he found out, but she should eventually tell him. They were both romantic at their core, and perhaps the two of them could reconcile their differences and give their love another chance. Reconcile? Dakota scoffed. She had run away from Troy. Fled out of the state. Shit. When had this idea sounded good to her?
Glancing up at the entrance to the room, her breath hitched in her throat. Troy scanned the space, looking for someone, and then his gaze settled on her. Oh, no! Someone must have seen her and reported back. Could it have been Sophie? Mingling with him tonight hadn’t been on her list of approved activities, and she wished for an invisibility shawl. His stare weighed on her face as he approached, and time seemed to slow as he met the distance between them. Focusing on him dragged the memory of their first meeting the forefront of her mind.
* * *
Ten years earlier…
“Whatcha whistling, Dixie?”
“It’s called humming.” Dakota rolled her eyes at the interruption. She had been intently listening to the jukebox in the back corner play ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’ by Def Leppard while humming along to the beat. “Does that line ever work for you?”
“Sometimes,” he grinned. “Pick your poison, and I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Did someone dare you to talk to me? Or maybe I scream desperate to you?” She finished off the sip of alcohol in her drink, savoring the drop at the bottom of the glass even though it was watered down. “You sure don’t seem desperate enough to talk to me.”
“I’m not desperate, and I don’t think you are either.” He glanced around at either side of her. “Why are you sitting here all alone?”
“I arrived here with my friends. Thank you very much. Why don’t you go and scurry back to yours?”
“I don’t have any friends, Dixie, so I’ll just sit right here.” He motioned for the bartender to come over. “Two Fireball shots. Please.”
“I didn’t say I wanted Fireball.”
“Then it’s a good thing they’re both for me.” The man smirked.
“Drinks are on me. Thanks for all you do.” The blonde bartender nodded to him as she slid the glasses across the bar.
“It’s an honor.” He raised a glass to the bartender then hit both shots in a row.
“I never said I wanted any company,” Dakota protested as she plucked the cherry out of the ice melting in her glass and bit it off the stem. She chewed thoughtfully as she looked him up and down. The man sitting next to her could be on a billboard somewhere modeling underwear. She could count his six-pack abs through his tee shirt. Military tags hung around his neck to indicate some branch, though she couldn’t read which one. His hair had been buzzed clean against his scalp, so whether light or dark she couldn’t tell. The dimness of the bar also prevented her from seeing the color of his eyes, but they were expressive. She never imagined someone like him talking to her.
“Well, your disappearing friends are real bitches.” He turned the seat around on the barstool so he could survey the entire room. “From the way you’ve been downing water in between drinks you aren’t sure if they’re coming back.”
“Those bitches are my friends.” She stifled a laugh despite his spot-on assessment. “Please don’t call them bitches. Just leave me alone.”
“Well, sweetheart, I can’t in good conscience leave you alone.” He tilted his head toward the back of the room. “Those men are planning to jump you once you leave. I won’t let that happen.”
“Oh? I find it sweet you want to defend my honor.”
“Nah. Honor has nothing to do with it. I just really want to fight.”
“Why should I trust you?” The thought about the group in the back attacking her did worry her, but what if he was messing with her?
“I have no reason to lie to you. I’m trapped here in this boring little town until I’m deployed to Afghanistan. I might be here a week or I could wind up stuck for a month, depending on how fast they push the paperwork. You might not know me, but I’m chivalrous as hell. I’m not going to sit here and watch some assholes hurt a woman. Especially not a woman as pretty as you.”
“Well, shit. It’s a good thing I’m not an ugly broad.” She stood at five foot nine, taller than most of the women in this town. With gorgeous tan skin and jet black hair that fell in waves down her back, she heard compliments before, but her curves gave her pause. Some men didn’t like a women with a little extra sand in their hourglass figures.
“Heh,” he grinned. “I’d still teach those dickheads a lesson, but I wouldn’t be working as hard to impress you.”
“Wait a second. Are you trying to impress me?”
“Yeah. Is it working?”
“Maybe.” She bit down on her lip, then conceded to give him the benefit of the doubt. “What’s your name? If you’re going to get beat up for me, I should at least know who to send flowers to.”
“I’m Troy.” He extended his hand and she shook it. “You won’t need to send me flowers, Dixie. If even one of those upstanding citizens lays a hand on me, it will be the sorriest move he ever made.” He winked at her. “Oh, did I forget to mention? I’m a Marine.”
* * *
Dakota snapped back to the reality of the moment. She was in the here and now. She couldn’t do anything to alter the course of their initial meeting.
Accepting Troy’s request to come back to his motel room with him about ten or so years ago had started their relationship. They’d stayed in bed for two days, only getting up to order food and to shower. He took her hard and fast, unlike any other man she had been with. She liked his dominating manner, and how much attention he paid to her body. It didn’t take long for her to fall hook, line, and sinker. She never expected them to be compatible, but underneath the tough military exterior laid a heart of gold. Their sex lives sizzled off the charts, as they both had the same voracious appetite while matching each other’s desires and fantasies. Three months later the paperwork got stamped with the final seal of approval and they married in a small ceremony. Marrying had been Troy’s idea in case anything happened while he was deployed. His decision proved to be the best one he could have made. After his catastrophic injury, there would have been a lot of red tape for her to unravel if they had only been together and not married.
Sipping from the tall stemmed glass in her hand bought her a moment, but no more than that. Sparkling apple cider looked like champagne as long as you didn’t taste it. “What are you doing in here?”
“I’ve been here all night. Didn’t you see me on stage?”
“Yes, I mean obviously I saw you, but why are you talking to me?” She cocked her head to the side.
“Come take a walk with me, Dixie.”
“I paid in cash. No backsies.” Despite her reservations, when Troy held his hand out, she laced her fingers in his. She missed him so bad it hurt her heart and her head to think about it, but she couldn’t tell him all the reasons why. Plus, they hadn’t parted amicably. Did he harbor resentment?
“I’m not going to renege on the auction unless you leave me with no other choice, but I’ve got some questions. Do you care to answer a few?” He led her down the hall and into one of the private rooms.
She followed him inside, scanning the small area. It held a cot, a small two-seater loveseat, three cabinets, and a folding table. These rooms were typically used for aftercare. Sophie had offered her a complimentary tour a few months ago after the older woman convinced her to give the community a try. Dakota never imagined it would have brought her and Troy together. Sophie kept the information about Troy attending the club to herself. Instead Dakota saw him in his glory one night when she came out to observe a party at the CCC. She’d barely been able to contain her surprise and arousal the first
night she’d seen him play.
Floggers and whips were his specialty and where he shined the most during a scene. Troy got into a zone, cranked up rock music, and floated leather strips across women’s backs, thighs, and butts like they were his canvas and his implement a brush. It was a sight to behold, but she’d never gotten too close. No, she couldn’t risk him seeing her.
Dakota had struck up a conversation with a woman a few weeks ago who had played the part of said canvas, and Troy had brought her an incredible endorphin rush, providing aftercare as needed. Dakota listened with an open mind, but tiny pangs of jealousy and guilt flew through her at the time. She wanted to be the one tied up by Troy. She wanted his hands on her body, and to be in his arms afterward for cuddles.
“Dakota.” He cleared his throat and her head snapped up. “I asked you a simple yes or no question. Are you going to answer me, or do I need to get creative?” Troy stared down at her expectantly.
“Yes, I’ll answer.” Her stomach did flips at his tone. What did he mean by creative? Could Troy possibly mean something more along the lines of discipline? He also seldom used her first name, and it made her feel like a naughty child.
“How long have you been coming to the cabin?” Troy sank down into the loveseat.
“A little while.” She sat on the cot, near him but not close enough to touch him. It was a simple question but the reasons revealed a lot more than she was ready to share. “How long have you been a dom?”
“I’m asking the questions tonight, but I’ll humor you with an answer to this one. I’ve been a dom as long as I can remember,” he chuckled. “I always had an inkling you might be submissive but we never explored it.”
“Why not?” Dakota blew out a breath. “I mean, things might have played out sort of differently.”
“Maybe, but I came home in pretty bad shape, Dixie. I wasn’t quite running on all cylinders. We didn’t get to know one another in person until we had already been married for two years.”
“Not running on all cylinders is putting it mildly,” she agreed. “I understand and as much as I hated seeing you in pain, I wouldn’t change what we went through together for anything. I watched you overcome some terrible challenges. I cried so hard when I saw you in the hospital. You were so doped up on pain medication, I doubt you even remember it.”
“I remember it, but it isn’t relevant at the moment. Focus on this, the here and now, and not on the past.”
“Oh, okay.” She swallowed hard. A rush of memories flew to the surface, but she pushed them back. No, she needed to focus like Troy advised her to do. “What’s your next question?”
“You left four years ago without so much as a glance back. Why did you come home?”
“You want to know why I came home?” Dakota scoffed. She might as well paint a bullseye on her head and hand him a hammer. It all centered around him, and somehow getting the two of them on the same page again. His parents had moved all the way out here when he got injured and they treated her like their own daughter during the ordeal. She had no remaining family of her own, and being away had done nothing to help her situation. Yeah, she had lost weight and stayed sober, but she’d felt so empty inside. An emptiness only Troy could fill. Dakota sounded pathetic in her own head, she couldn’t possibly tell him all the details. “It doesn’t matter, not anymore.”
“Repeating everything I say isn’t exactly a conversation.” He clenched and released his jaw. “Okay, then I’ll get to a more important question that’s been on my mind. If you hate me so much, why did you keep my last name?”
Fuck. He got straight to the point. She shouldn’t have expecting anything less. “I don’t hate you, Troy. I could never hate you. Legal separation doesn’t require you to change your name.”
“Fair point. Why do you still call my mother every Sunday?”
“I paid for you for one night, not the other way around,” she chirped. Her noncommittal answer did not help her cause. His questions dug deeper than she anticipated. She never wanted to change her name back to her maiden name, a name she had hated from the first time she saw her father abuse her mother both mentally and physically. Dakota had hated his last name more with each passing day. The man who created her had pushed too far, and beat her mother to death. She’d slipped into a coma and died when Dakota was only thirteen years old. Plotting revenge came easy, but her father did himself in one cold winter night with a dropped cigarette and a gas leak. No tears were ever shed for the monster who gave her life.
At least Troy had a good reputation. A wounded veteran. A loving husband. Why had she let things get so bad? She had been so stupid to leave. Could he possibly forgive her for all the shit she’d put him through? His mother had remained the one strong light in her life. Somehow the woman had forgiven her even when she couldn’t forgive herself. She owed Troy’s mother her life.
“You’re a million miles away.” Troy reached over and took her chin in between his thumb and index finger. He tilted it upward until their eyes met. “Why did you bid on me tonight?”
His closeness distracted her, and she shrugged in response to his question. No, she wasn’t ready to divulge everything.
“When I ask you a question, Dakota, I expect a verbal answer. You have refused to reply more than once. If you are unable to grant me enough respect to provide an answer, then we can’t move forward. We’ll part ways, and you can go back to whatever you were doing.”
“Wait, please? I didn’t think I would see you tonight. Not with so many other things going on. I’d been under the impression you would be occupied with more important stuff or working later or something.” Wetness pooled in between her legs and she pressed her upper thighs together, mortified over how quickly her body reacted to his dominance.
“The only important matter I’m occupied with at the moment is this one.”
“Sophie encouraged me to come to the auction tonight.” Dakota sighed when Troy moved back, and he let go of her face. “She told me if I didn’t show up, she would find someone to beat my behind until I changed my mind.”
“I certainly believe Sophie could have arranged that.” Troy joined her on the cot, then leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms behind his head. “What else did she say?”
Dakota shook her head, a decision she instantly regretted when she found herself upended and then placed over his lap. Troy smacked her once across both cheeks.
“You-you can’t spank me in here. There are rules.” Her thin gown offered no protection. She gasped from the sensation but she was more turned on than irritated.
“You aren’t following any rules. Why should I?”
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet.” She squeaked in protest when his palm seared the top of each thigh but when he landed two smarting blows to her full cheeks, she moaned. “Oh.”
“Hm. What was that?”
“I’ll answer one question but you need to release me immediately.”
“Is that so?” Troy tipped her forward slightly. It put her at the perfect angle for his hand to land at the soft juncture of her butt and thigh without removing any of her clothing. She should have worn a slightly longer dress, but he was probably happy for the length in this scenario. Troy expertly hit his mark, and after four good blows to each side, she cried out.
“Please stop, Troy.”
“Whenever you’re over my lap I expect you to call me Sir.”
She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. She should have thought this through better. Dakota thrashed against his muscled thighs, but the struggle did not free her from the position. The intensity of each slap increased as well as the speed of his hand. “Please!”
“Please what?”
“Please let go of me.”
“Wrong answer.” Troy raised her dress and then he focused his attention on the roundest part of her ass.
Her outfit boasted a short hemline, and she had gone commando to prevent panty lines. Another bad choice this evening. The sound of flesh
hitting flesh resonated off the walls. After several more rounds, she wailed. He continued to spank her, hard and fast, while she cried. Dakota definitely questioned why she had been so eager to come tonight. Yet being held by Troy in such a precarious position gave her more satisfaction than she had experienced in quite some time. At the very least he cared enough to find out why she was here. He could have easily escorted her out of the building since Dakota wasn’t exactly holding up her end of the bargain. Speaking frankly and honestly to each other as well as disclosing certain sensitive information had all been mentioned in the twenty-five-minute pre-auction. Dakota had to sign a form acknowledging as much. If only Troy knew what hoops she had jumped through to ensure she would have enough money to throw down. He would be so disappointed in her.
“I’ll answer every question you ask me. I promise.” Dakota slumped against his thighs, exhausted from the physical battle as much as the mental one. “Sir,” she added in defeat.
“Good girl.” Troy tugged her dress back into place, then smoothed the fabric over her skin. “Why did you bid on me tonight?”
“Be-because I wanted to talk to you.”
“I’m listening. Go ahead and talk.”
“You expect me to talk to you while being held face down across your lap?” she snapped. The way he was holding her irritated her on a deeper level. She also hated the sensations flying through her as a result from his attention.
“What was that?” Troy pinched the top of her left thigh and then her right. She yelped. “You want another round?”
“No, Sir.” She blew out a breath, but he made no attempt to let her up. “I figured you would see me and make some comment about the stunning transformation I’ve gone through.” Dakota had lost eighty-five pounds since they’d last set eyes on each other. It had been a lot of hard work, but she’d managed to lose the weight at a healthy pace. Had it really been four years since they’d seen one another?