“Not much. He’s got a lot on his hands between the two scenes.” She shook her head, the joy dimming a little.
They’d learned only after they’d returned to the house with their two suspects that Odalia’s former partner and best friend had had his own showdown that morning with a serial strangler who was after his new girlfriend, Lisette. Mathieu Mouton had done exactly what Jacques would have in his position. Killed the bastard.
“I told him I wanted a recommendation to SWAT as a joke and he said I’d have it.” She sipped her drink, watching him over the rim.
Jacques liked the idea of SWAT even less, but he couldn’t change who Odalia was. If she were any less of a woman, any less tenacious or driven, she wouldn’t fit him so well. She wouldn’t complete the circle of their lives.
“You’ll get it,” he said, holding her gaze.
He didn’t have to pretend it wasn’t the truth. Odalia had worked hard, people on her beat liked her and she pushed herself to be an extraordinary officer. She smiled at him and her eyelids drooped a bit more.
For some reason, she was still holding on to being awake.
“Drink all of it,” he said.
He could have mixed a little something extra in her tea to help her sleep and not just take care of the headache if he’d had more foresight. But he should have known. Odalia had been wound up before they went to the diner, everything since then was a shot of adrenaline.
He’d have to be a little more direct in his approach.
Odalia drank down the tea in big gulps, a little dribbling down her chin. She finished with a sigh and held the mug out to him. He accepted it and placed it on the coffee table.
“Come on.” He took her hand and tugged her to her feet.
“I’m too awake to sleep.” Her tone was exasperated.
“We aren’t going to sleep.” He held her gaze as he spoke and saw the shiver shake her, the way her eyes widened just a little and her lips parted. This chemistry, the way they were together, it was unique. No other woman made his very soul burn for her.
Jacques had held himself back. Following an adrenaline-charged job like the rescue they’d done this morning, he always wanted to fuck. But she’d been going for so long he didn’t want to push her. She needed time to rest. Except she was bound and determined to be awake. So they could put that time to good use.
He led her up the stairs and closed the bedroom door before Creature could sneak in behind them. The dog was the most accomplished cock blocker in all of existence.
“Sorry, boy,” he muttered as the dog whined on the other side of the door.
Odalia stood in the middle of her bedroom, still swaddled in her huge robe, her hair damp and up in a knot. She gripped the ends of the sleeves, tugging them down and parting the lapels, displaying a swath of the sacred heart tattoo nestled between her breasts.
He’d realized the first time he stepped foot in this bedroom, with its softer, more feminine touch, that Odalia had given him a gift. She’d shown him all of her—the tough cop, the rough past, the confident woman and the sensual, romantic part of her that was just for him. To everyone else, she was a hard ass. For him, she was his everything, and he would always handle her with care. Even if sometimes caring for her meant leaving bruises on her ass.
Jacques tugged the knot at her waist loose and parted the terry cloth. Just as he’d suspected, she wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing under her robe. He pushed it off her shoulders and trailed his fingers down her chest, over her breasts, ribs and stomach.
Odalia watched him through her lashes.
She was beautiful. Perfectly made. Her body hard and soft, honed by a physical lifestyle but naturally given to curves. Her breasts were full, with dusky nipples. Tattoos painted her body, from the chest piece to her half sleeve and full back piece, she was a living, breathing story.
He gathered the robe from the floor and without a word, laid it over an armchair in the corner of the room before going to the bathroom. He could glimpse her in the mirror, standing exactly where he’d left her. The first time he’d seen her at a kink party, he hadn’t been able to believe his eyes. He’d never have painted her as a submissive, but Odalia was a multifaceted creature. And she was all his.
He pulled one of his bottles out from under the sink where she’d cleared space for him. If things continued, they would need to discuss a bigger place. Neither had a big enough home to move the other into, and he was just about done living in two locations. But that was a conversation for another time. They hadn’t shied away from the knowledge that what they had didn’t come with an expiration date. This was the real deal. For life. Which meant taking it slow and enjoying it was that much more important.
Jacques wrapped his hands around the bottle to warm the liniment and returned to the bedroom. He circled her until he could admire that ass of hers. A black and gray tattoo stretched from her shoulders down to her hips. It told the history of New Orleans if a person took the time to read it with their imagination. He knew it by heart, every artistic quirk and hidden object. But it wasn’t her tattoos that concerned him.
He looked past the ink, searching for the marks. Unlike other partners, whose ink was not as extensive, he had to be careful with Odalia. One wrong flick of a cane and he could mar the beautiful images. They hadn’t played hard enough or with anything that might inflict that kind of damage. He read her skin, searching for the red streaks, the developing bruises.
Several red lines marked her ass where he’d given her what she asked for.
“Lay on the bed.” He patted her bottom and she sucked in a deep breath. She’d be sore for a day or two at most.
Odalia crawled onto the bed, stretching out slowly, probably because she was feeling the day’s exertions as much as he was.
He straddled her thighs and poured some of the herbal liniment into his palms. The sharp fragrance of mint and the blend of ingredients cut through the sweeter scent of her candles.
Odalia groaned in anticipation.
Jacques chuckled and slicked his hands up and down her back. Being her Dominant meant he got to do all the fun stuff to her, but it was also his responsibility and honor to care for her.
Odalia sighed as Jacques spread the oil over her back and ass, down to her thighs. She knew tomorrow she would hurt all over from the combined play and rescue. His magic touch would ease that.
Once he had her sufficiently lubed up, he began kneading her shoulders. He knew just where she was the sorest. Seeking out those knots that needed to be eased and digging his thumbs or the heel of his palm into them until she was a boneless creature, completely at his mercy. The oil soaked into her skin and whatever magic he’d infused it with did the rest of the job, loosening her to the point that she couldn’t move.
She loved his hands, when he touched her like this, stroking every inch of her. It wasn’t completely pleasurable. There were some places where the bruise went all the way to the bone, like on her shoulders where she’d pounded the doors. But he took care of her as if she were breakable. And yet he ran headlong into danger with her.
The facts were that it wasn’t his responsibility to pursue those people or go into the house with her. He was a bounty hunter. He worked for a price. What they did today they did because it was who they were. And though they might have taken different paths, they were cut from the same cloth.
“Over,” he said and shifted off her.
It was almost too much effort to roll onto her back, but she did as he asked. By now the liniment was rubbed into her skin so well there wouldn’t be a trace of it on the sheets, not that she was in a state of mind to care about that. She had a washing machine.
She smiled at Jacques and stretched, her muscles warm and supple. He knelt next to her, the bottle back in his hand. He poured a little in his palms and tossed it onto the floor.
He started on her stomach, slicking his hands down over her hips and thighs. A tendril of arousal curled throu
gh her abdomen. She always wanted him.
He settled his body over hers, pressing her down into the mattress, caging her under him. She smiled a split second before he kissed her.
Whatever he wanted, she would give it to him. Her heart. Her soul. Even her life if it came to that.
“Are you going to sleep now?” he asked against her lips.
“No.” It was a lie. She was so close to passing out, but one glance at his lust-filled gaze and she could find a little energy left to push on.
Jacques stood, pushing off his jeans and tossing shirt on the floor. He took a condom from their nightstand store, holding her gaze as he pulled it out and ripped it open. That was one way to exhaust her, and the most fun of all. She grinned at him as he rolled the latex on.
He crawled back over her, until they were skin on skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck, arching up to press her breasts against his chest. He was going to add another scar to his inventory, but it just made him look that much more tough, like the bad ass he was. She didn’t know what made her love him more—that he’d never once questioned her ability today, or that he’d charged in with her.
Jacques’ cock slid into her and she groaned, her muscles too buttery to protest. His lips brushed hers as he pushed deeper, seating himself fully. She wiggled her hips, shifting her feet against the mattress. She pushed up, grinding her pubic bone against his, seeking that increased friction.
He pushed up, looming over her and withdrew. How he had strength to carry on was beyond her, but she wasn’t about to complain. He could fuck her all day and night.
In and out, he stroked her inner walls, faster and harder. She tossed her head from side to side as warmth and anticipation built low in her abdomen. She hooked her ankles behind his knees, changing the angle so his cock slid against her clit with each thrust.
“Oh. Oh!” Odalia gasped as he fucked her even harder.
Jacques placed his right hand at the base of her throat, each thrust he applied just the barest amount of pressure. She could feel the tiniest amount of constriction against her windpipe. With another partner, she’d never allow this. But with Jacques, there was such trust and a complete submission. Her pleasure, her pain, and even her next breath were for him. It was a dominant gesture that called to her heart.
Odalia stared into his gaze, locked on her. He bent lower, the variation to the angle hit the perfect spot deep within her. She gasped and whimpered as her orgasm rippled through her. Jacques pressed against her chest, constricting her breathing. Her vision hazed as the pleasure rolled on, her toes curled and she dug her nails into his shoulders.
He lowered his face to her neck and thrust deep, his motions jerky as he found his own pleasure in her body. She scored his back and shoulders with her nails. He groaned and shoved deep, collapsing partially on top of her, a tangled heap of limbs and her hair while they sucked down deep breaths.
After several moments of doing nothing but coming back to earth, Jacques gathered her close and she lay her head on his chest, listening to the pulse of his heart.
She loved him so completely, she almost feared waking up from this dream. Except when she did wake up, he would be there. The other half of her soul, the keeper of her heart. The one person in the world who completed her.
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There are so many people to thank.
The Midnight Ink girls who set me on this path, Eden Bradley, R.G. Alexander, Robin L. Rotham, P.G. Forte, Jayne Rylon, Carrie Ann Ryan and Mari Carr—this is all your fault!
My friends who put up with me and the constant spout of ideas, Lea Griffith, Reb, Sophia, Jess, Sabrina York, Gina Lamm, your patience is appreciated.
My fact finding crew, Andrea, Dave, Dawn, Silas, Mr. Laurann Dohner and the entire team that put on my Citizens Police Academy class, thank you for all the patient answers that make these books work.
Also, my boyfriend, who spent countless hours smiling and nodding while I talked out the story.
The entire team of editors at Red Quill Editing LLC who made this book what it is and my fantastic cover artist at Wicked Smart Designs, you guys really breathed life into this story.
Most of all, thank you readers for making this possible.
Author Note
Many people reading Duty Bound will have never heard about EXIF data, but it is a real thing. I acknowledge that I took liberties with it for the purposes of the story. That said, be aware of what you are choosing to share from your phone and social media networks.
Book List
Bayou Bound
Picture Her Bound
Duty Bound
Bound by Her (Coming fall 2014)
Bound in Him (Coming fall 2014)
Other BDSM Titles
Committed (Coming August 2014)
Bound with Pearls
Collar Me in Paris
So Inked
Under His Skin
The Harder He Falls
His Marriage Bargain (Summer 2014)
Good Guys Wear Black
Hot Tango
Line of Duty (Winter 2014)
Standalone Titles
Flirting with Rescue
Personal Adventures
Dream Vacation (free read)
How Zombies Stole Christmas
Anthologies
High Octane Heroes
Midnight Ink
Holiday Spice
For the Love of a Soldier (2014)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
It can never be said that Sidney Bristol has had a 'normal' life. She is a recovering roller derby queen, former missionary, and tattoo addict. She grew up in a motor-home on the US highways (with an occasional jaunt into Canada and Mexico), traveling the rodeo circuit with her parents. Sidney has lived abroad in both Russia and Thailand, working with children and teenagers. She now lives in Texas where she splits her time between a job she loves, writing, reading and belly dancing.
You can find Sidney here:
Website: www.SidneyBristol.com
Twitter: @Sidney_Bristol
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Copyright © 2014 by Sidney Bristol.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Sidney Bristol | Inked Press
www.SidneyBristol.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
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Duty Bound by Sidney Bristol -- 1st ed.
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