Goal Line (The Dartmouth Cobras Book 7)

by Sommerland, Bianca

  “Is she?”

  Hmm…how can I put this? “She’s spirited. And a little defensive until she gets to know you. But she’s amazing with her little brother, and she talks about Heath like he’s a superhero. I think you’ll love her.”

  “I don’t doubt it. I just wanted to be prepared.” He smoothed his hand over her hair. “I’d appreciate you coming around when you can to help them settle. The transition might be easier since they know you a little.”

  “I’d love to, Sir.”

  “I won’t order you to move in with me, though the idea’s not really a stretch since we’ve already touched on the subject of marriage and children.”

  She could picture him grinning and shaking his head with amusement. She let out a happy sigh. “I won’t move in, but I may stay so often, it won’t make a difference.”

  “That sounds like a plan.”

  “As for children, I think the three we’ve got are enough for now.” She rubbed her cheek against his thigh, so content she could remain here all day, without complaint. If not for the promise of another scene. She wasn’t in a rush though.

  Dominik barked out a laugh. “Not sure you want to claim Heath as your son, pet. You could end up a grandmother before you’re thirty.”

  “All right, now you’re going too far, mister.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Oops. She bit her lip. There was no need to ask what she’d gone wrong. They might be having a casual conversation, but he’d been very clear about her showing respect. And there was never an appropriate time to call your Dom “mister.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “You will be,” he said pleasantly. “You just earned your first real punishment.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Real punishment” could mean so many things. As Dominik hauled her up to her feet, Sahara went over all the ones she’d seen dished out at the club. She’d only experienced a “real” one once herself.

  From Dominik, actually. She’d been mouthy to several club Masters because she was feeling lost and frustrated, and as the Dungeon Monitor, Dominik had taken her in hand. He’d proved spankings were good for more than foreplay, and there had been no playfulness involved like when Pischlar had smacked her ass.

  Sahara wasn’t afraid of Dominik, but his creativity made her a little nervous. He’d been known to make subs kneel on rice. Or count it. Holding up books or boots with arms outstretched was another of his signature penalties. If a sub got spanked, she was getting off easy.

  The spanking he’d given her in the shower had been more funishment than anything. She knew the difference. And, while Dominik didn’t seem angry with her, she had a feeling he wasn’t playing games.

  He brought her to the armchair, the one closest to the window by the feel of the sun on her back. After she sat down, he moved away from her. She heard water being poured. A glass set on the coffee table. Plastic being ripped.

  “Open your mouth, pet. Good girl.” She heard the smile in his tone when her lips immediately parted. “Now, stick out your tongue. This may be unpleasant.”

  A few drops and the nasty taste of hot sauce spread over her taste buds, setting them on fire. Her eyes teared as she swallowed and tried scraping her tongue with her teeth to lessen the burn. She sucked in air with her mouth open, but nothing helped.

  You evil bastard! She panted, reaching around to find the glass. “Water, please, Sir!”

  He chuckled and took her hand, pressing the glass against her palm. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes!” She gulped down the water. It only made the burning worse. “Ugh!”

  Using a tissue, he dried the spill under her lips. “Tell me what you did wrong, and I’ll give you something that’ll help. This will be a mild punishment, but hopefully one you won’t soon forget.”

  “I shouldn’t have called you ‘mister.’” She sniffled as her nose started to run. “I’m sorry! I was joking, but I went too far!”

  A tiny rip, of paper this time, and Dominik pressed his thumb against her bottom lip. “Open wide.”

  She whimpered, not sure she wanted to after what had happened last time. Only, she wanted to prove to him that she could take whatever he dished out. He wouldn’t push her past what he thought she could take. Just saying she trusted him meant nothing if she balked the second he tested her.

  Opening her mouth, she braced for something nasty, but instead, tasted the sweetness of strawberry candy. She chewed on the little gummy treats and the flames from the hot sauce retreated.

  “More?”

  “Yes, please, Sir.” Sahara chewed on the candy he fed her, relief filling her as the lingering nasty taste disappeared. But, more importantly, Dominik was cupping her cheek, and she could sense his approval in his relaxed touch.

  “My good girl. I’m impressed.” He shifted closer, sliding an arm under her legs and the other behind her shoulder, lifting her. “I expected you to balk. Maybe tell me to go fuck myself.”

  Her eyes widened behind the blindfold. She quickly shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that. You asked for respect, Sir.”

  “I did. And you slipped up, but you weren’t trying to be rude, so we’ll keep the punishment small this time.”

  “Small?” She probably shouldn’t have said that out loud, but Dominik only laughed.

  He carried her into the bedroom, dropping her lightly onto the bed. “Yes. Small. I picked up some cinnamon gum to go with the hot sauce in case you came up with any more creative things to call me.”

  Bracing her hands behind her, Sahara cocked her head, doing her best to bite back a smile. Dominik anticipating bad behavior wasn’t that funny. Just sorta kinda. She giggled. “You know me pretty well, Sir. I was tempted to tell you exactly what I thought of you.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “Well, first of all, I love your mother, so I won’t insult her.”

  “Very wise.”

  No kidding? His dry amusement didn’t fool her. Anyone, sub or not, would suffer for calling him a “son of a bitch” or slighting his mother in any way. She’d be an idiot to cross that line.

  “Second…well, I asked for this. I don’t mean the punishment—that too, but I mean what we’re exploring today. I needed real from you.” She smiled, resting back on the pillows. “I don’t want it to end.”

  “Neither do I.” His hands slid up her thighs and his fingers hooked to the edge of her panties. “If we continue this, there will be some discipline, but I’m more interested in the power exchange. And the pleasure.”

  “Mmm, I think we’re on the same page.” She sucked in a breath as he rubbed his bearded cheek against her inner thigh. “May I touch you, Sir?”

  “Not now, pet. Hands up over your head. You may hold on to the pillow.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her bare mound. Buzzing sounded from somewhere near her knee. “And try not to scream.”

  The buzzing became the vibration of something round gliding down her leg. She moaned as he settled the heavy vibrator right on top of her pussy before pressing her thighs together.

  “Shh. Hold it right there. Good girl.” Dominik rose over her, lifted her breasts out of her bra and above the neckline of her dress. “Your gorgeous breasts have been sadly neglected. Let’s fix that, shall we?”

  His big hands massaged her breasts. He lowered his mouth to one, using his tongue and his teeth and his lips. As her nipples were stimulated, over and over, the pulse beating in her clit threaded up to the sensitive nerve endings until it felt like the vibrations and the sucking and the pressure were everywhere at once.

  A small climax hit her without warning, never letting her come down, but instead intensifying until she was gasping and bucking, riding the sensations to another peak. The pleasure spiraled around her core, tightening like a rubber band wound around and around until it snapped. Her second orgasm reverberated through her very bones, tensing all her muscles and stealing the air from her lungs.

  She trembled with the force of the spasm
s deep inside her, her pussy so tender the vibrations became almost painful. When Dominik turned it off, the relief brought another shudder of ecstasy. She pressed her thighs together and rolled to her side, basking in the afterglow.

  The darkness behind the blindfold glowed red, spinning and swaying. The bed didn’t seem quite solid beneath her. She reached around for a way to steady herself and found Dominik’s thick bicep as he laid down beside her. He held her close, grounding her even though she still felt a little floaty.

  This was nice. She was suddenly exhausted, but in the satisfying way she got after a good workout. Fulfilling, like the energy had been well spent.

  “You look worn out.” Dominik kissed her temple. “Ready for a nap, my sunny girl?”

  “Mmhmm.” Sahara snuggled up close to him, but she couldn’t let herself fall asleep just yet. “You probably have stuff to do, but I wish you could stay.”

  “I can grant that wish.” He ran his hand over her hair, soft and steady, his petting sinking into the peaceful darkness. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  * * * *

  The hours passed too fast, but Dominik made sure not a moment was wasted. After resting for about forty minutes, he’d gently woken Sahara for a lunch of finger foods he had sent up by room service. He fed her every bite as she knelt by his side, her expression so dreamy, he was positive she was still half asleep.

  But as he put earphones over her ears and danced with her around the room, she didn’t miss a step. He could faintly hear Jason Mraz singing “I Won’t Give Up.” One of the few songs he had on his playlist simply because it was a beautiful song. But he could see a change in Sahara as she absorbed the powerful words.

  She lifted her hand to push the earphones back.

  He reached into his pocket to press pause.

  “I’m sorry, Sir. I love this song, but…it’s making me all emotional.” She lowered her head, and if she hadn’t been wearing the blindfold, she’d likely be staring at the floor. “I just need a minute.”

  This wasn’t a scene, so she didn’t have to say yellow to express the need to stop to talk things over, but he reacted in the same way he would if she had. He took the earphones from her and laid them on the bed with his iPod. Then he moved close to her again to remove the blindfold.

  Her hands came up the second he untied the ribbon. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him.

  “We will continue, pet. But I need you to share what’s going on in your head with me.” He thought over the lyrics, wondering if any had hit a trigger, but came up blank.

  She put her hand on his arm. Tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. Exhaled noisily. “The words just feel so true. Like something you’d say to me.”

  He smiled. She was right about that. “Which frightens you?”

  “No.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I love you. And that scares the hell out of me.”

  The words had an impact, but not one of shock or fear. He wasn’t afraid to love her. If he really looked back, he’d probably reached that point months ago. Her father had been wrong about playing games, but he’d been right that this wasn’t a new thing between them. Neither of them had been in a place to accept what they could have.

  But they were now.

  His only regret was that he hadn’t said it first. He slid a hand over her cheek and into her hair, holding her gaze. “I don’t blame you for being a little scared. The last time you gave someone your heart, you got hurt. There’s nothing more important to me than keeping you from harm. I love you too, Sahara.”

  “You do?” She didn’t sound surprised. Exactly. More like she hadn’t dared hope he felt the same.

  “I do.” He tipped her chin up, kissing her softly, pleased when she pressed against him, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck. The scenes they did all required trust, but she could submit to him and still hold on to the most fragile part of herself. He wouldn’t have asked for more until she let him in.

  But she had given herself to him in every way. And from the moment she’d first put her head on his chest and accepted his comfort, he’d been headed in the same direction. Slowly under the weight of his own uncertainty, but all that mattered was that he was here.

  He took her hand. “Dance with me.”

  She grinned, lacing her fingers with his. “Isn’t that what we were doing?”

  “Yes, but not with the blindfold. Not as part of a playful scene. Just me and you.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “To our song.”

  Nodding, she drew away from him. She picked up his iPod and hooked it up to the speaker alarm on the nightstand. Then she pressed play.

  The song started from the beginning. She slipped into his arms and he held her close. Swaying to the music, he smiled, leaning down to press his cheek to hers. And he sang to her so she knew, without a doubt, that he meant every word.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Late that night, after having dinner with Heath and his siblings, and then helping Heath put his little brother and sister to bed, Sahara followed Dominik back to the room, not sure she’d ever been happier in her life. Granted, they’d planned a day of complete submission, but what they’d explored between them encompassed so much more than her accepting him as her Master.

  He loved her.

  She wanted to shout the words out loud—had ever since she’d truly accepted that she loved him—but fear of being alone in feeling that way had kept her silent. Until she’d looked into his eyes and seen he was with her. Even if she hadn’t said the words out loud, his every touch, every smile, told her she wouldn’t regret giving him her love.

  If they went into the room and climbed right into the bed to sleep, today would still be perfect. This amazing, gentle, powerful man was hers. He kept all those he cared for, which was part of what made him so wonderful, but he still made her feel special. Like he’d guarded a part of himself that was a little more battered and bruised, but he’d let her past those shields because he needed her to stand there with him.

  Nothing in the world meant more to her than proving she was worthy. That she was strong enough to protect the part of him that couldn’t take losing more than he already had.

  In the bedroom closet, she grabbed a nightgown from her suitcase and brought it to the bed. She reached back to unzip her dress. “I don’t know anything about the high schools in Dartmouth, but Becky or Silver might know a good day care for Bran. He’s such a sweet little boy, but I think he needs to be around other kids his age. He whispers when he speaks. He should be—”

  “He talks to you?” Dominik rose from where he’d been riffling through the black bag that had fallen on the other side of the bed during their nap. “I agree, he’s adorable. And very well-behaved. But he makes Ladd seem outspoken.”

  Sahara had hardly noticed how little the Ladd brothers had spoken, considering how well Kimber filled the silence. She thought back on the few times Bran had said anything. He’d been shy with Dominik at first, but then he’d let Dominik put him in the high chair—he was so tiny, there was no way he could reach the table without one—and he’d nodded or shaken his head when Dominik filled his plate.

  But it was either Sahara or Kimber he’d asked for anything from. Twice he’d touched Sahara’s arm and asked to go to the bathroom. Heath had gotten up and offered to bring him, but the poor toddler seemed almost as intimidated by his brother as he was by Dominik.

  Kimber had cleared that up when they’d brought Bran to the woman’s bathroom.

  “Our foster parents were nice, but they were really strict. I’m old enough that I did my own thing, but Bran just wanted to make them happy. Greg—our foster dad—was a big guy. When he yelled, all the kids would hide. Except for Bran. He’d sit there, all quiet, and color. People forgot he was there.”

  Sahara’s heart broke for the little boy. At his age, he should be making noise, asking questions, making a mess. Instead, he was constantly watching the adults around him, afraid to draw attention to himself.


  She tried to keep her tone level. “Did they ever hit him?”

  “No! You think I would let that happen?” Kimber folded her arms over her chest. “There were six of us. Bran wasn’t even the youngest. Our foster mom had two babies to take care of. When I wasn’t at school, I took care of Bran.”

  “But when you weren’t there…?”

  “She kept him clean. Fed him.” Kimber hunched her shoulders. “She knew he wouldn’t be there forever, so she didn’t let him get attached to her. And the dad worked a lot. I don’t know…I think things would have been better if our real mom hadn’t died. She was nice. She used to brush my hair and tell me Daddy loved me. I think she believed it. He wasn’t around much, so I don’t think he loved any of us. He wasn’t at her funeral.”

  Damn it, these kids had been through so much. Sahara wanted to hug Kimber, but the girl held herself stiff and proud, glaring in a way that made it clear she’d see any affection as pity.

  “I miss her. She was sick all the time, but she tried. Dad didn’t. I’m happy he’s in jail. I hope he stays there.”

  Nodding slowly, not sure how to respond, Sahara went to the door when she heard Bran trying to open it. The little boy might not talk much, but he was very independent. She held out her hand and he smiled up at her as he took it.

  “Do you miss your nanny? There’s been a lot of big changes, huh?” She bit back a grin when Bran shrugged. The kid was just like his big brother.

  Kimber snorted. “She was nice enough, but Bran never got close to her. He never really got close to anyone ’cept me.”

  Bran smiled. “Kimber’s my mommy.”

  “Kimber’s your sister, sweetie.” Sahara lowered to pick Bran up, hating how confused he looked. “But you have lots and lots of people who care about you. And her.”

  “He’s not wrong. I’m kinda like his mom.” Kimber stuck close to Sahara’s side, speaking low. “I named him, you know. I taught him everything. So it’s my fault if he’s messed up.”