Breathe

by Lauren Jameson

  “Why are you here, Stanley?” Samantha’s voice was quiet, but Elijah could hear the core of strength . . . and the trembling behind it. “What do you want?”

  “Your mother has something of mine.” The man’s cold eyes flickered over Elijah as he approached, but he was so intent on his goal that he didn’t pay the younger, bigger, more fit man more than a glance.

  “You’ve taken enough from her.” Samantha broke her stare from the older man to turn and meet Elijah’s eyes as he approached. Yes, there was strength there—his little cat had claws. But there was also anguish and embarrassment. “Now go.”

  His years as a Dom had taught Elijah how to read people very, very well. In that moment, as Samantha looked up at him with her emotions written all over her face, he understood.

  Whatever secret she was keeping, it had to do with this man. The way her body angled away from him, the way the man leaned in toward her with a predatory stance, told him the story he was going to hear from Samantha the next morning.

  Pulling Samantha back, Elijah stepped in front of her and her sister and drew up to his full height. He knew damn well how intimidating he could be.

  “Elijah!” Samantha pushed at his back. “You don’t have to do this.”

  He appreciated that she didn’t expect him to fight her battles. Yet he was going to, as long as they were together.

  “Who the hell are you?” The other guy looked Elijah up and down as if he was a bug on the sole of his shoe, but Elijah caught the split second of hesitation before rage that flickered over the man’s face.

  Rich, Elijah thought, along with a deep sense of entitlement. Doesn’t like being told no.

  “The lady asked you to leave.” Elijah allowed his lips to curl in a smile that held no mirth. “So go.”

  “Or what?” Stanley sneered, turning to Samantha and licking his lips. “It’s in your best interest to help me get what your mother has, honey. It’s something real personal. Your mom’s not a real trustworthy kind of gal, you know.”

  “What does she have, Samantha?” Elijah felt her efforts to push him away dwindle. He took a moment to pull her forward, to look down into a face that had drained of color.

  “Pictures,” she said, numb. “I never knew what happened to them. But she must have held on to them, to taunt him with. It would be the kind of thing she would do.”

  Elijah’s rage boiled over. Grabbing the portly man by the collar, he hauled him up to his tiptoes, then leaned down until their noses almost pressed together.

  “If you do anything—anything—else to hurt either of these women—in any way—I’ll kill you.” The words coming out of his mouth sounded as if they belonged to a stranger. Though he had a definite need for control, he’d never been a violent man.

  But this man, who had hurt Samantha? He wanted to pound his head into the pavement.

  With a final glare to emphasize his point, he set the man back down on his toes, becoming dimly aware of the sounds of people in the background reacting to his temper. He observed, as if from outside his body, Stanley shaking like a chicken who had been caught in the rain.

  “You little punk, I’ll bury you.” Stanley poked his finger right into Elijah’s chest, and Elijah narrowly stopped himself from grabbing it and snapping it in half. “You don’t know who you’re messing with. I’m a very rich man. I have connections you can’t even dream of.”

  So it was money, then—that was what spoke to this bastard. Elijah smiled as cold control washed over him, and he saw Stanley tremble a bit as the cold reached his eyes.

  “No matter how much money you have, I guarantee I have more.” Elijah felt a current of satisfaction as Stanley’s face paled. “I have more connections. I know more people.”

  Wrapping his hand around the finger that still bore into his chest, Elijah yanked it and squeezed. Stanley tried to pull away, but found he couldn’t.

  “If you do anything to hurt either of these ladies or anyone they care about, if you try to contact them ever again, I’ll come for you.” Elijah released Stanley so abruptly that the other man stumbled back. Elijah stood perfectly still, a menacing statue, as the other man sputtered.

  “Keep her.” Stanley sneered around Elijah at Samantha, who dug her nails into Elijah’s back in upset. “Nothing I want anymore anyway. But you can’t stop me from visiting Gemma, whenever I want, however I want. She’s always pathetically grateful for my attention. And your old lady’s a better fuck than you ever were.”

  With a last glare, Stanley marched off down the hall, his spine so straight that Elijah thought he must have had a stick rammed up his ass.

  No way in hell was that fucker getting pictures of Samantha.

  “I’m going to call my car. It will be here in just a minute. It will take you two home.” Elijah pulled his cell from his pocket, tapped out a text message, then jammed the device back into the denim. He looked down at Samantha and her sister. The startled expression that crossed Samantha’s face told him he looked every bit as ruthless as he felt.

  He toned it down a bit for her.

  “Come to me in the morning,” he repeated, then gestured to the glass doors of the hospital. “That’s my car. Go.”

  “Where are you going?” Samantha eyed him warily, even as Beth tugged on her arm.

  Elijah met her eyes, thought about making up a story.

  Total honesty.

  “I’m going to take care of that.” He jerked his head in the direction that Stanley had gone, then readied himself for an argument.

  He was taken aback—pleased—when Samantha smiled, a predatory curve of the lips, and nodded with approval.

  “Thank you.” She leaned toward him, then stepped back. Finally she stood on her toes and quickly pressed a kiss to the line of his jaw, flushing as she retreated. “Thank you for everything.”

  Then she was gone, hustling her sister out the door.

  A no-nonsense nurse was approaching Elijah when he turned back toward the depths of the hospital, the look on her face telling him that she planned to evict him from the premises. When she looked up into his face, she faltered, stopped, stared.

  “I’ll be gone momentarily,” Elijah promised as he strode back into the hospital.

  “I just have to take care of one little thing first.”

  • • •

  Samantha set her hands on her knees and leaned back against the hotel room door. Fatigue was like a heavy blanket, weighing her down, luring her in.

  “No.” Shaking her head, she tried to stay awake.

  The hallway was empty. Nothing to look at, no one to entertain her, to keep her from falling asleep.

  “Damn it.” For what felt like the hundredth time, she looked in the direction of the elevator.

  Still no Elijah.

  Resigning herself to waiting, she tipped her head back and closed her eyes, allowing her thoughts to wander.

  Elijah had told her to come to him in the morning. She couldn’t wait that long. The pressing need to smooth out what was between them made it impossible for her to focus on anything else.

  She’d had Elijah’s driver take Beth home, then bring her to the Three Sisters Inn. The woman working the front desk was someone Samantha had gone to high school with, and a few minutes of playing buddy-buddy had yielded Elijah’s room number.

  Now all she could do was wait—wait and try to figure out the best way to say she was sorry.

  The chime of the elevator sounded. Groggy by now, she saw him striding out of the lift and making his way down the hall before she could get to her feet.

  “Samantha.” He stopped cold when he saw her. She swallowed, hard, as she took in his face.

  His lip was split and bloodied, and his eye was swollen and beginning to turn black. In his hand he held a data stick.

  Samantha had never seen him less guarded. She looked at his split lip, his black eye, the data stick.

  Going on instinct, she dropped to her knees, right there in the hallway of the Three Sis
ters Inn. With her eyes on his feet, she spoke the words that came from her heart.

  “I love you.”

  Elijah growled. Startled, she looked up just in time to see the ferocity on his face as he grabbed her by her elbows, lifted her off her feet, and pressed her against the door.

  “Hold on to me.” Elijah placed his hands under her butt and lifted, pressing her against the doorframe. At the same time his lips possessed hers.

  “Wait,” she whispered, pulling back. Elijah growled again as she slid her fingers over the split in his lip. His eyes devoured her expression, absorbing every nuance, and for the first time since she’d met him he seemed hesitant.

  “Was this okay?” he whispered.

  Samantha’s heart swelled.

  “Thank you.” Gently, she pressed her lips to his, trying to put everything she felt in her heart into the kiss. “Thank you.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and Samantha felt as though she would burst.

  Impatient, she wiggled her hips against his hardness. “Let me show you. Let me thank you,” she said.

  “Hold this.” Elijah thrust the data stick between Samantha’s teeth as he fumbled in his pocket while still holding her against the door. Pulling out the key card triumphantly, he opened the door and they half walked, half fell into the small hotel room.

  “Bed.” Spitting the data stick onto the floor, Samantha’s lips roamed over his face, his jaw, his neck. Working her fingers down between them, she tugged at the button of his jeans. “Now.”

  “One thing first,” Elijah muttered, placing her gently on the bed. His eyes never leaving hers, he moved back to where the data stick had fallen.

  Lifting his foot, he stomped down on the stick. The plastic crunched beneath the heel of his boot, and he hissed with satisfaction.

  When he looked back at Samantha, she saw more of that hesitation, but coupled with it was possession.

  No one would hurt her as long as she was with him.

  “I need you. I can’t wait anymore.” Grabbing for his belt loops, Samantha pulled him to her. Her big, gorgeous Dom looked down at her with a hint of amusement as she undid his belt buckle, the button and zipper of his jeans, then impatiently tugged the denim down his legs.

  His boxer briefs went along with the pants, and she couldn’t hold back a smirk as she realized that her bossy Dom was still and quiet, letting her do as she wished for once.

  The smirk slid from her face when she looked back up and found that Elijah’s rock-solid erection was directly in front of her lips.

  The silence in the room was thick, heavy. She looked up at Elijah as, slowly, she wrapped her fingers around the base of his shaft, then slid her lips over the head of his cock.

  “Samantha.” Elijah groaned as she swirled her tongue over the tip of his penis. His salty musk spread out over her tongue.

  She wanted more, wanted to give more. She needed to show him how she felt.

  Tightening her grip on the base of his shaft, Samantha worked her hand up and down as she began to suck, hard and fast. Her cheeks hollowed out as she pulled on him with her tongue. She heard his quiet moan as he relinquished control and gave in to her attentions, tangling his fingers in her hair and tugging.

  The bite of pain spurred her on. She moved her hand faster, sucked harder. She cried out a protest when the hands in her hair pulled her back, out of reach of his cock.

  “Strip.” Elijah’s voice was a harsh bite.

  Samantha stood, obeyed as quickly as she could as Elijah tugged his shirt over his own head.

  Then he laced his fingers in the cheap cotton T-shirt that she hadn’t had a chance to remove yet and ripped the garment right off her.

  Heat flooded through her as Elijah clasped her around the waist and moved her up to the head of the bed. When he lay down flat on top of her, she almost gave in to the pleasure, almost let him take control.

  “No,” she said. Pressing her palms flat against his chest, she pushed until he rolled onto his back. “I need to do this. I need to show you.”

  “Samantha.” Elijah bit out the word, frustration evident in his taut features. Feeling like an animal, Samantha bared her teeth at him, shifting until she straddled his hips and his cock brushed through folds that were already wet.

  “I want you. I want all of you.” Bending, she pressed a tender kiss over his heart. The fierce heat in his blue eyes blazed as she righted herself, and she felt her heart stutter in her chest.

  “Take me, then,” he said. His fingers found her hips and dug into her flesh, hard enough to bruise, and Samantha thrilled to the bite of pain. “However you want.”

  “Like this.” Reaching down, she took his erection in her hand. Pressing it to the heat of her entrance, she slowly took the head of him inside.

  “Goddamn it, Samantha.” Elijah’s body was tense with the effort of keeping still, of letting her have control.

  The big, bad Dom was hers, and she never wanted to let him go.

  Silently she sank down on him, taking his cock fully inside her. She cried out as he filled her, feeling overwhelmed, though she was the one in charge.

  Below her Elijah trembled, moving his hands from her hips to tangle their fingers together.

  “Mine,” Samantha said as she began to move, sliding up just a fraction, then back down. Elijah raised their entwined hands, each of them leaning into the touch as Samantha rose and fell, just enough to create friction, but never so much that she wasn’t completely full of him.

  Elijah’s eyes went wide a moment before he stilled beneath her.

  “What’s wrong?” Leaning over, she searched his face. “Am I hurting you?”

  “I’m not wearing a condom.” Elijah’s voice was strained.

  Samantha didn’t break the connection that drew hot and tight between them.

  “I know.” Her words were taut with emotion. “I trust you.”

  The sound Elijah made then was full of possession, rumbling from the depths of his chest. Before Samantha could even inhale, he had flipped her back over and was looming above her.

  His eyes blazed into hers fiercely.

  “Mine.” He echoed her earlier words before plunging as far inside her as he could go.

  Samantha cried out, then lost herself in the sensation as Elijah took over her body. Pleasure drew hard and fast, and her cries became incoherent when he reached a hand between her legs and rubbed over the hard nub of her clit.

  She lost herself seconds before he clasped her by the hips, lifting her off of him just before he came, savoring the sensation of his heat lashing over her belly and thighs, marking her in the most primal of ways. It felt different—so much more intimate.

  And then, before she knew what was happening, he slid his fingers between her legs and pulled a second, harder spasm of bliss from her body, and she couldn’t think about how she was feeling at all.

  • • •

  “I was married once.” Elijah’s voice could have been coming from anywhere in the room. They lay in the pitch-black darkness, her frame sprawled on top of his, his hand stroking idly over her back.

  She stilled, waiting.

  “Her name was Tara. She was beautiful, fun, and best of all submissive. Alex and Luca wanted her too, but she chose me.”

  Samantha felt as though she should be jealous, but strangely felt nothing but calm.

  “What happened?” she asked quietly. She didn’t want to break the spell.

  “We were both young, and we thought that love was enough.” Elijah seemed to be lost in thought. “It turned out that we weren’t as well matched as we’d thought. I can see now that she wasn’t really interested in submission at all, and it turned out that I needed . . . more.”

  “Which is why you were so concerned that I wouldn’t be able to fully submit.” Samantha’s throat suddenly felt tight. “Elijah, I’ve told you what I want. I want a man who will take control without asking for it. I want a man who will take care of me, feminis
m be damned. But I don’t know if I can run around thinking of you as my Master.”

  “I can’t deny something that’s so much a part of me. I’m dominant. It’s who I am.” Elijah traced the lines of her shoulder blades with one hand while the other cupped the back of her neck. “But I think I was wrong about you. You make me work harder for your submission than I’ve ever had to work with a sub before. But it’s so much sweeter when you do submit to me. A strong woman giving herself to me is the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced.

  “When I said that I needed someone who was truly submissive, I didn’t mean that I needed that kind of relationship twenty-four/seven.” His fingers worked the knots of tension at the base of Samantha’s skull, and she arched beneath the touch. “I think we can find a way to make it work together. As long as we trust each other.”

  And that, Samantha knew, was her cue. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she steeled herself to tell the tale that she hadn’t spoken of since she’d told her mother, who had then turned around and used her daughter’s trauma to gain money.

  “My mom was—is—a professional mistress.” Samantha grimaced at the sound of the words. “She has a taste for expensive things, but has no desire to get an honest job to work for them. So she trades sex for financial support, for jewelry and clothing and cars.”

  Beneath her Elijah was silent. Though it hurt, she continued.

  “Some of the guys were okay. Most of them ignored Beth and me. We’re pretty sure that we have different fathers, but neither of us has ever met our dads, not that we can remember.”

  The more she told, the easier it got.

  “My mom started . . . seeing . . . Stanley when I was fifteen and Beth was twelve. He made me uncomfortable from the start, the way he’d watch us. But he didn’t do anything until I was sixteen.”

  She’d been counting down the days until she was old enough to take Beth and leave.

  “They came home one night, both drunk as hell. I could hear them having sex, couldn’t sleep over the noise. When they were done, I was relieved, and finally went to sleep.

  “But I woke up a couple of hours later and found him in my room.”

  Closing her eyes against the visual, Samantha reached out blindly for Elijah’s hand. He laced his fingers in hers and held tightly.