Laird's Submissive [Soldiers of Passion 1] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Dace Everan

  Laird narrowed his eyes. That explained her meltdown.

  Lania swallowed the bile that tried to rise in her throat. She hated men like that, the ones that went out of their way to terrify women. “I bet you they friggin’ laughed at her.”

  Laird held up his hand to silence her. “Enough, Lania. If Layle wanted me to know about that she would have told me.”

  Lania grunted. “You know she wants you, right?”

  Laird nodded. “We talked.” Of course they had never gotten anywhere. He reclined back in his seat and pondered the sweet little Layle.

  She was the only one of all the girls to enter his club to catch his attention. Right off the bat she had been openly honest about her needs. Had done what was demanded of her. Shit, she tried to push her boundaries all the time.

  “Keep your eye on her, Lania…Jonathan has already been taken care of.”

  Lania nodded. “Dedrick and Jamal will take good care of her,” she murmured, straightening out.

  Chapter Four

  Laird knocked at the door for the third time, slightly annoyed that she wasn’t answering. “Layle!” he yelled against the door, holding his ear closer listening for any movement. Shit, he could hear her walking around in there. He banged again on the door waiting.

  “Hey, dude…you should call her. She’s probably listening to her headphones.”

  Laird looked down the hall, and a young hippie-looking character leaned out his door, his long scraggly hair needing a wash, and the stench of pot seeping toward him. He gave a nod.

  “Or if you want, use the fire escape. Mekaila will see you through the window.”

  Laird gave another nod and headed down the hall toward the elevator. He would have to have a chitchat with Mekaila about her neighbor and the fire escape.

  Layle spooned out the dough and licked her fingers, a dark flash out of the corner of her eye startling her. Her eyes widened as she saw Master Laird, an exaggerated look on his face, his arms akimbo, standing out on the fire escape. She crossed to the window and unlocked the clasp and opened it up. She popped out her earbuds and apologized.

  Laird smirked, slipping in. “Your neighbor’s a pothead and I really hope you keep this locked at all times. Maybe get some curtains, your neighbor is totally fucked up.”

  Layle chuckled. “Job…he’s harmless.”

  Laird grunted. “Highly doubt that. He knows you very well.” He looked at the earbuds that were connected to the hot pink cord that ran down her body and hooked to another pink square thing. He assumed it was one of those portable music players. Shit he was getting old. “What does Mekaila listen to?”

  Layle narrowed his eyes. “Kay maybe Job isn’t that harmless. Layle would be nicer please…And I listen to everything.” She popped the earbud in. “George Jones right now.”

  Laird laughed. “Bullshit.”

  Layle smiled, stepping closer and holding the little bud to his ear.

  Laird smiled, a classic, he liked that classic country music. “We’ll have to have another Western night, I think,” he pondered.

  Layle grinned. “Chaps, yahoo,” she chimed, squeezing around him and closing the window, locking it up again. “I’ll get curtains tomorrow,” she announced. He was right. Anyone could peek in here anytime they wanted. Creepy. She shivered. “Come in…Want some cookies?”

  Laird followed her to the kitchen. The aroma of fresh-baked cookies engulfed him. “Smells good.” He plucked one up, taking a bite.

  Layle watched him. “Hopefully you have no allergies?”

  Laird shook his head. “Invincible over here,” he bragged, popping the rest in his mouth, rounding her, opening the cupboard, and grabbing a cup. Not taking notice to how comfortable he was in her home.

  Layle watched him pour himself a cup of milk. She smiled. He was wearing blue jeans and a plain black T-shirt that stretched over his shoulders and hung a little loose around his waist. His hair was tied back with a brown leather strip.

  “You haven’t come to the club in two weeks. You have many people worried, little one,” he chimed after drinking half his cup of milk.

  Layle shrugged. “I was going to go tonight, but I remembered it was water night…I don’t like water night that much.” She took one tray out of the oven placing in another. She placed the hot pan on the stone counter and unhooked her iPod from her waist and crossed to the entertainment stand.

  Laird watched her as she placed the pink square on a stand and smiled as the music came to life and filled the area. She adjusted the volume and returned to the kitchen.

  “Has Mistress Lania worn her blue outfit yet?” she asked, flipping the cooled cookies off.

  Laird grinned. “You like Mistress Lania?” He had never seen her eye up any of the other Mistresses he allowed to play in his club.

  Layle grinned, eyes lit, and they glowed when they fell on him. “Who doesn’t? She’s gorgeous. I even got to see her naked once, totally by accident.” She admitted the last part.

  Laird grinned. “Very pretty woman,” he added.

  Layle’s eyes locked with his. No way did the two hook up! Both were Dominants.

  Laird smiled. “I had a private party at my estate and she got a little frisky with her sub. Not very often she lets that happen.”

  Layle raised an eyebrow. “That would have been so cool to see.” She stopped and drifted. “She has beautiful breasts…and her hips.” She smiled. She wished she had hips like Lania. She turned her attention back to her cookies.

  Laird smiled, watching her work her kitchen. “I wanna talk to you, Layle…about Steven Harden.”

  Layle dropped the cookie and cursed. Her hands trembled, and she shook her head. “I don’t talk about him, and how the hell did you get his friggin’ name?” She glared at him.

  “I used to work security. I know how to find people, now tell me about Steven and his friends.”

  Layle glared at him, shaking her head. “No,” she refused. No way was she talking about them. He couldn’t make her. She stepped around him only to be stopped by his firm grasp.

  “You will not walk away from me, little one,” he whispered against her ear.

  Layle shivered. Nights she had spent fantasizing about this man, about his hands on her, his breath whispering over her flesh.

  Layle met his gaze and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t think I can’t take you down, Mr. Roan.” She wrenched her arm from his grasp and Laird backed off.

  He looked her up and down. “You can’t run away from it forever, Layle…You will never be able to move on if you keep running,” he offered.

  Layle grunted, putting the island between them. “I don’t want to talk about them! You have no right coming in here demanding any of this,” she uttered. Her hands shook and she tried to spoon more dough onto the pan. Tears rolled down her cheeks. How dare he come into her home and tear her safe little world apart!

  “I want you to stay with me for a week.”

  Layle’s gaze met his. Was he friggin’ serious? She couldn’t spend a week in his house. She shook her head. The last time she had gone somewhere with a man bad things happened. She only went to places she picked! She shook her head. “No.” She turned her back to him.

  Laird pursed his lips in thought. “Fine…I’ll stay here.” He would miss his open space, but her little apartment was rather cozy.

  Layle snorted. “No you won’t,” she ordered, plucking a pan from the oven and replacing it with a new one and wiping stray tears from her cheeks.

  Laird sighed. “Trying to help you, Layle,” he pointed out, sitting down. How the hell had this gone from relaxed and welcoming to pent-up and aggressive? Surely she understood he was just trying to help her out?

  “I don’t want your help,” she mumbled, laying the fresh cookies on the counter to cool. She washed up her hands, neatly stacking the dozen she had already baked.

  Laird watched her. “I want you in my bed, and the only way I’m going to let you in there is if you share what happened
to you, Layle.” He had nothing to hide. He wasn’t going to beat around the bush. No one ever got anywhere doing it that way. And there was no way he was fucking her until he knew her whole story.

  Layle furrowed her brow. Sure, bribe her to give her what she really wanted. “How come I can’t just have what I want?” she grumbled.

  Laird chuckled. “Never works that way, sugar. You should know that by now.”

  Layle met his stare. “I’m twenty-three. What the fuck am I supposed to know!” she uttered. Frustration overwhelmed her. He sounded like that stupid counselor that Harley had made her go see.

  “I see that Steven was arrested for what he did…dishonourable discharge, as were three others.”

  Layle clenched her teeth. She didn’t want to think about them, about that night. Shit, she had only thought there were three, not four. “If you’re trying to get me all hot and bothered, you’re talking the wrong subject. That tends to make my skin crawl.”

  Laird nodded. “Makes my skin crawl, too. You know his accomplices were released a few months back?”

  That caught her attention. Layle licked her suddenly dry lips and her whole soul wavered. She closed her eyes. She was safe. They couldn’t get her. She knew they were out. Shit, she had been notified and had claimed restraining orders on all of them. There was no way they were going to get anywhere near her.

  Laird leaned forward, resting his elbows on the countertop. “I won’t ever take a damaged woman to my bed unless she is willing to share what happened. You of all people should know how it works. I can’t bring you pleasure if you don’t share with me, Layle…By the way, Mekaila is so much prettier,” he offered lightly.

  Layle snorted. She hated that name. So formal. So a part of her past.

  Laird nodded. “Was it your first time?” He sat calmly, waiting patiently as her eyes met his.

  “My ass being fucked or just me being fucked?” she muttered. Anger and resentment resonated all around her.

  He nearly flinched at the seriousness in her voice. “Both?”

  Layle nodded. “I was raised to save it for someone special…You know how hard it is when a girl is surrounded by hot buff men every day. Shit, that was the toughest year of my life. Harley taught me where to touch to get off and get a little release without wrecking myself for who I wanted my first time to be with.”

  Laird leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “You and Harley were in training together?”

  Layle nodded. “She was so mad at me when I ditched her to go with him.” She narrowed her eyes. She had been stupid to go. She and the counselor had gone through that a million times. She always assured Layle that it was normal to ditch friends to go on dates. That she should not ever feel guilt for what happened. That what had happened was not her fault. She clenched her teeth. Easier said than done.

  “Why’d you quit?” he asked.

  Layle looked at him. “Quit what?” she asked, lost.

  “The military, you were top of your group. Your life had nowhere but up to go.”

  Layle cringed. “I…” She furrowed her brow. What had the counselor called it? Shit, she couldn’t remember. She shrugged her shoulders. “I have a hard time being in large groups of men…my group consisted of me and Harley and the rest were men.”

  “You were to lead them.”

  Layle shrugged. “I couldn’t…not knowing that they knew what happened to me. The looks they gave me, the way they slapped Harley on the shoulder but resigned themselves from treating me the same way. I’m not a victim. I survived what happened to me and probably would have done a lot better had they not treated me differently.”

  Laird nodded. “Very true…You want me to treat you like I would any other woman?”

  Layle cringed. She had been full of so much doubt after the way her men had treated her, she wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. She shrugged.

  Laird smiled. He really hoped he wasn’t making a big mistake, but taking a leap of faith had never backfired on him before.

  Chapter Five

  Layle packed away her cookies. Her gaze darted to Laird as he wondered around her tiny living room. “You should go…I have to get up early tomorrow,” she mumbled, putting away the cookies and giving her counter one last swipe.

  Laird turned on his heel and looked at her. “Ah, all done.” He released a breath. Who would have thought baking would take up so much freakin’ time. He crossed to her and took her by the upper arms. “Told you I’m staying with you for the week.” His mouth pressed to hers as he lifted her by the upper arms.

  Layle stiffened and held still. His hands weren’t hurting her by any means, but the strength he had to lift her by her upper arms and kiss her sent a chilled shiver down her spine. How had she not noticed how strong he was? His mouth urged hers. His tongue licked along the seam of her lips. Her mouth opened slightly at the persuasion.

  Laird smiled against her mouth. “Legs around me, Layle,” he ordered against her mouth, and a thrill tore through him as her nimble body easily lifted and her legs wrapped around him.

  Her mouth took away from him, and she looked between them then up at him.

  The smile she blessed him with lit his world.

  “I always wondered,” she whispered.

  Laird grinned. “Me, too,” he admitted. Shit if she didn’t make him feel ten years younger. He rested her ass against the top of the counter, fingers slipping beneath her T-shirt. “I do believe you’re a little overdressed for my liking.” He hummed, lifting the flimsy fabric.

  Layle looked at him as he looked at her bare chest. His finger followed the long scar down the middle of her breasts. “Never noticed this at the club,” he whispered, eyes searching hers.

  Layle shook her head. “I apply a heavy-duty makeup and try really hard not to sweat,” she admitted.

  Laird narrowed his eyes. “Steven?” he asked.

  Layle scrunched up her eyebrows. She shook her head. “I don’t know…They had me spread out on the dirt and started cutting me up.” She looked over his shoulder at the wall behind him. She hadn’t taken this much time to think of that night. Shit, even when she talked to the counselor she hadn’t thought this much of that night. “I remember one hovering over my head. He was saying something…They were laughing. One was telling them to stop…I assume it was the young one. I don’t think he knew what they were all going to do that night.”

  Laird placed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. “Shower with me?”

  Layle smiled and met his eyes. “I don’t feel dirty,” she murmured.

  Laird smiled. “Good, you’re in my arms. I would really be put off if you felt dirty.” He grasped her ass and held her close as he headed down the narrow hall. “I, on the other hand, spent the afternoon giving flogging lessons. I need a shower.”

  Layle leaned in and sniffed his scent. She had passed him once when he had left one of the training rooms, and the smell of his sweat had turned her on.

  Laird chuckled. “You’re not one of those supernatural people like the wolf man, are you?” he teased.

  Layle scoffed. “Pretty sure if I had the ability to turn into a crazy furry person I would have done that,” she replied, stopping him in the hall before the bath, opening a closet. She pulled out two fluffy towels. “You will have the softest towels…Harley loves the comforts when she comes home.”

  Laird smiled. “You must miss her?”

  Layle nodded. “She calls me when she can…I think she’s falling hard for one of her comrades. I hope she keeps her focus,” she murmured.

  Laird furrowed his brow. “She talks that openly to you over the lines?”

  Layle laughed. “Ah no…We have our own language. We know better than to speak right out over the lines. Shit, they probably think I’m a freak over there.”

  Laird chuckled, carrying her into the spacious washroom. He set her down on the countertop, stepping back and looking her over. He cocked his head to the side in admiration. He did have
something for the tiny breasts. Her pink nipples stood to attention and upturned as if begging him to suck them. He salivated at the thought. He wanted them in his mouth.

  He reached out, thumb caressing over the tight bud. “So pretty,” he whispered.

  Layle raised an eyebrow. “You like tiny tits?” She had always thought he liked them big, and a handful.

  Laird smiled. “I do.” He pulled the string on her khakis and she lifted her bottom and let him slip the pants from her. She sat naked and proud and Laird loved it. “You have no shame,” he murmured.

  Layle shook her head. “No. I have a beautiful body. Why would I have shame in that?” she asked.

  Laird smiled. “You’ll have to forgive me…I’m still trying to imagine you without what happened.”

  Layle nodded. “You’ll have to work harder,” she whispered. His distraction with her past was getting her nerves going. If he continued this way, there would be no fun for either of them.

  He tugged his T-shirt over his head, and her eyes devoured his firm body. Two, four, six, eight, shit he had an eight-pack. She smirked and Laird chuckled.

  “Thank you,” he hummed, turning his back to her and turning the water on.

  Layle blushed.

  Laird removed his socks then his pants. Layle looked at his discarded clothing. Ooh, he was a commando kind of guy. She shivered, her thighs clenching. Laird pulled her close, spreading her legs until they wrapped around his waist. Layle bit her lower lip as his thick erection slid against the crack of her ass.

  Her eyes met his, and he gave her ass cheek a squeeze. “Jamal has been dreaming about taking your ass.”

  Layle blushed. She had never thought of having sex with Jamal or Dedrick for that matter. “I…never thought about that with them,” she admitted.

  Laird smiled. “I know…you like to be flogged,” he stated.