by Susan Stoker
The office was quiet. No gasp, so that was a good thing. She didn’t really want to be disfigured by a simple whip, even if the asshole had used knots. There were knots and then there were knots. Usually whips for sex play weren’t set up to scar—leave marks, yes, scar, no. Doms liked their subs pretty.
A sudden sympathy for the girl Tina rose, but she squelched it. The woman had chosen the Dom for whatever reason. “So?”
“You can put your vest back on.”
She turned and faced her boss. “Do I have to?”
Kendra looked at the clock. “Actually, no. You still have almost two hours before work. Maybe you should go get some rest.”
She carefully pulled the vest back on, but didn’t zip it. “Why? Is it that bad?” Her gut sank at the thought her back would be marred for life just because she’d been stupid. Kendra had much worse scars, so she really should count herself lucky.
“It looks like it’s healing already. Who treated it?”
“Hunter. Do you think I’ll have scars?”
Kendra shook her head. “I doubt it. Besides, your front is much more enticing to men than your back.”
She grinned. “I’m not so sure. I had this one guy who just loved my booty. He couldn’t get enough of it.”
Kendra held up her hand. “Please, too much information.”
Adriana laughed. “Since when?”
“Since—”
A knock on the door stopped the conversation fast.
“Sorry, Ms. Lowe.” Andrew, their new wagon driver, stepped in, gripping his cowboy hat in both hands.
The lanky twenty-year-old had the beginnings of one handsome man. Adriana had thought about offering to teach him a few things in the bedroom he might not already know, but she’d hadn’t had a chance yet.
“Andy, what is it?” Kendra stood.
Adriana joined her, facing Andy. His worried expression changed as his gaze moved to her open vest. She gave him her best seduction smile, but he didn’t move his eyes from the inside outline of both her breasts. She was good with that.
“Adriana, zip up.” Kendra waved her hand in front of Andrew’s eyes. “You came in here for a reason. Could you think with your other head and tell us why?”
The man actually blushed before his memory returned. “Yes, it’s Ms. Perez’s car. I’m not sure, but I think someone was in it.”
“What?” This had better be a bad joke.
Andrew nodded. “I just got back from bringing the Sandersons down. They had a lot of luggage, so it took a while to unload.” He grimaced. “I’m not sure. But I know how you are always careful to lock your doors because you leave stuff in there.”
“Yeah, so? I have a mess in my car. It’s not like I use it that often living here with Selma’s great cooking and guests free for the taking. Why? Is my car clean now?” She squelched her smile, only because the young man appeared very concerned.
He flushed again. “Well, no, miss, but I noticed the doors were unlocked when I drove up there. I didn’t notice it when I came in this morning, but it could be because I didn’t turn the lights on and when I just drove up now, the sun was shining in there, lighting the whole place up.”
“Motherfucker.” Adriana ignored Andrew’s stunned expression. “Take me up there.”
Kendra grabbed her arm. “Hold on. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that Dom from last night got pissed he had to leave the resort and damaged my car somehow.”
“Why? Did you tell him you drive a yellow convertible Camaro?”
Did she? “I have no idea. No wait. I haven’t talked about my car all week. Damn, I’m slipping.”
Kendra let go of her arm. “This could be a totally unrelated incident. If we’re experiencing more vandalism, they could have chosen your car because it stands out like an oasis in the middle of a desert. Or you could have simply forgotten to lock your doors. When was the last time you used it?”
That was easy to remember. She’d gone into the city to try out a real sex swing before plunking down money online. “Four days ago.”
“Okay, so let’s go up to your car and see if anything is missing or damaged. If not, you just forgot to lock it.”
She didn’t forget. She may not be the neatest person on staff, but she always locked her car. That Camaro was her baby. She’d never loved anyone, but she damn well loved that car. “Lead the way.”
Kendra motioned Andrew out of the room. “I hope we don’t have to call Detective Anderson again. I had really hoped the residents of the area had finally accepted our nudist resort. We haven’t had an incident here since last fall.”
Adriana frowned. “Maybe not here, but there was plenty of excitement at the Last Chance Ranch. Between the Christmas and New Year’s Day shootings, I’ll bet he’s still doing paperwork.”
Andy put the tan golf cart in motion.
“I forget, it’s all a matter of perspective.” Kendra grinned. “At least on Poker Flat, I’ve been the only one to use a gun.”
“So far.” Adriana met Kendra’s surprised look with a promise of her own. If that Dom had damaged her car, she was taking her Smith and Wesson out of retirement and shooting the man’s ass.
Chapter Three
‡
Hunter rode in the sedan, his eyes constantly scanning the road ahead. This was stupid. The general he guarded had insisted on being taken by land to the base, but there were no armored sedans at the air field. One hour and they would have been in a safe helicopter. It wasn’t as if it was an emergency.
General Rendez talked nonstop in the back seat to Major Jackson. Hunter had learned to tune out the jaw flapping of the higher ups. His job was to protect them, not nose around in their business, besides, he was pretty sure their business would nauseate him.
This second tour in Afghanistan was nothing like the first. Before he felt like he was accomplishing something, helping knock down terrorism and protecting bases where they brought in the wounded.
But he’d been promoted. Shit. It felt like a demotion to him. Guarding the movers and shakers of the army around a country that didn’t even function as a country was a lesson in futility in his opinion. But what did he know? He was only Military Police.
But he did know how to survive and keep his charges alive.
The tiniest glint on the hill up ahead had his adrenaline kicking in. “Stop!”
“What? I can’t stop. We’re in the middle of nowhere.” His driver, a man he’d never met that he now looked at with suspicion, kept moving forward.
“I said stop.” He slammed his foot on top of the brake, bringing the sedan to a sudden halt. Swearing in the back was nothing but muffled sound to him.
He saw the flash as the mortar was sent. Fuck, they were dead. “Get out of the car!” He jumped out and threw open the back door. Pulling the general out, he pushed him ahead of him, away from the vehicle. The silence in the air made everything slow down as he pushed his muscles harder. The explosion shook the ground simultaneously with the concussion of air that picked him up and swept him forward.
Heat, pain and desperation sliced through his body. Then there was nothing.
Voices speaking Dari brought him to. Did he want to wake up? No. Yes. He had to get home to Julie. He had to live. The body beneath his own was warm. He had to protect her. What was Julie doing here? She was supposed to be home. His hand was wedged beneath him. If he could just reach his sidearm.
The voices grew louder. He wasn’t sure if it was because they drew closer or his hearing was coming back online. Didn’t matter which. He had to protect Julie. Wiggling his fingers, he felt every one of them. He moved his hand slowly to his side, hoping his M9 was still in its holster. His M4 was torn from his hand in the blast. His fingers grasped the cold metal of the Beretta’s hilt. Confidence powered through him. He had a gun.
The voices grew louder. Arguing. Only two. That’s what sucked here. So few could do so much damage. But he could take out two. Then he had to get
Julie to the hospital. Or was she already there? Images of her in a hospital bed flashed across his vision. He must still be dazed from the explosion. Didn’t matter. His training said take down the enemy and worry about wounded when the threat was eliminated.
A shout as the two men found the driver proved that man’s innocence. Too bad he hadn’t stopped out of range.
Hunter slit open one eye. Fuck, that’s as far as it would go. One of the enemy walked around the wreckage, his weapon ready.
He only had one shot and it all depended on pushing himself up and swinging his arm around. He didn’t even know if he could move, but if he went slow, he was dead anyway. Then what of Julie?
Her sweet smile, big eyes and flawless white skin that she swore she had to moisturize every day back in Arizona, blocked his vision for a moment. He had to get back to her.
No, he had to save her. Confusion swept through him and his head started to throb. He needed to focus.
The enemy drew closer. He waited. Watching for the telltale sign the man had relaxed. Not yet. The enemy kicked his boot. It didn’t hurt too bad, which meant he still had his legs. It certainly felt that way.
Then the enemy kicked the leg beneath him. Anger boiled inside, pushing him to the edge. He couldn’t let this man hurt Julie. She was his reason for living, for getting home to their ranch outside of Tucson.
Then he saw it. The loosened hand as the M16 dipped down toward the ground.
He pushed his torso up with his left hand as his right swung and pulled the trigger. The enemy went down.
His brain rejoiced as he collapsed on Julie. Darkness threatened as the thumping in his head increased, mixing with a yell and the pounding of feet.
He wanted to give in, but a groan from beneath him forced him to push away the black and embrace the hammering in his head. He opened his eye as the enemy pulled his gun up to his hip.
No fucking way.
He’d fallen on his arm so he cocked his wrist and shot just as the first bullets whizzed toward him. The enemy fell at the same time the burn of bullets pierced his leg and a yell from beneath him told him where the others had landed.
“No!” Julie was hit! She had to live!
His body jerked hard and he woke soaked in sweat. “What the fuck?”
Hunter blinked, focusing on the ceiling fan above him and the sunlight glinting off it. He wiped at his face with one hand. He wasn’t supposed to have the nightmares during the day.
He threw off the blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he cradled his head. Just when he found a routine, his brain screwed him up again.
This one was new. He’d never dreamed his late wife was the general he’d saved. Too bad he didn’t do drugs because they couldn’t mess with his head any worse than it already was.
Standing up, he strode naked to the bathroom to take a piss then walked into the kitchen. He was starving. Adrenaline rushes in dreams demanded as many calories as the real thing.
Opening the fridge, he scanned the shelf of protein shakes. He had to admit, Lacey was efficient. But he needed real food.
Pulling the lunch meat drawer open, he grabbed the pound of sliced roast beef. He’d prefer a steak, but he didn’t want to take that kind of time. He needed a lot more sleep. He glanced at the clock on the microwave. Shit. It was only one in the afternoon.
He dropped the beef on the counter and pulled out the casserole dish still half filled with the macaroni and cheese he made the day before. He mixed that up and stuck it in the microwave.
As the timer ticked down, he ripped open the roast beef and took a slice at a time and chewed. The primitive flavor of the pink meat permeated his mouth and soothed his brain. When the microwave rang, he pulled the dish out and set it on the stove top. Grabbing a spoon, he shoveled in a hot, cheesy portion.
Now that was comfort food. He focused on the flavors as they moved over his tongue. The tangy saltiness of the pasta and the course rawness of the meat. When he was finished he felt better, or rather his stomach felt better. His mind kept wanting to go back to the dream.
How the fuck was he supposed to sleep if he was going to dream again? Wrapping what was left of the meat, he stuffed it back in the drawer and placed the casserole dish in the dishwasher.
Then he sat on the stool at the counter with a bottle of water. He needed to force his mind to think of something else like they’d taught him. Anything.
Adriana’s naked body as she walked into the light of her own kitchen emerged. The woman was sex on two legs, a dirty magazine centerfold/porn star/temptress in one. Every boy’s and man’s wet dream, but even better. She was exotic and beautiful and sensual naturally, like she’d been born to pleasure a man.
His cock hardened as he kept his focus. So what? No need to keep the sucker at bay now. She wasn’t here. He indulged his fantasy.
She wouldn’t need a bed. She’d want something down and dirty. She’d be happy to sit on this very counter, spread her legs and let him eat her out. No guilt. No commitments. No attachment beyond sex. His hand found his stiff cock and he started to rub it back and forth.
He could imagine her dusky skin changing to a dull pink at the lips between her thighs. He could lick every pale spot while being surround by her scent. He’d noticed it when he walked her home. It was like the desert at night, cool, crisp, fresh.
She’d grasp his head in her hands, urging him on, moaning loudly, free of all inhibitions. She wouldn’t care who heard or who saw. Shit, she’d be happy to have an audience. They could invite the whole resort.
His hand stilled. Not like Julie. She enjoyed their intimacy, preferably in the dark, her tiny moans eeking out to tell him she enjoyed his touch.
He shook his head. He wasn’t worthy of Julie anymore. She was gone. She wouldn’t like who he’d become. He wasn’t the cowboy hero she’d fallen in love with. He’d been so green, idealistic, thinking he could make a difference, first in their town and then for his country.
But he couldn’t even save his own wife.
The dream edged into his psyche, threatening to take over again. “No.”
His own voice cut it off. Dark skin, long black hair, breasts with large, dusky areolas and thick nipples. He could do that.
He could take Adriana anywhere. He turned as he grasped his ball sac and rolled them. Sitting on his stool, he gazed out at the patio, in the shade at the moment, the wood railing the perfect height for bending her over. He could envision her stomach across the top as he held her hips and sank into her wet and ready pussy. The glide would be spectacular.
Her sheath would contract around him, an expertise he was sure she had. He’d watched her so many nights. Not because he planned to, but on patrol he’d see the light and check to make sure all was okay. She was inside with at least two, maybe more, partners.
Her smile sultry even as someone pounded into her like he wanted to do. Her eyes bright with excitement, her every movement a dance of sexuality and enjoyment. She would laugh, her pleasure too much to contain and he could hear it.
He’d been drawn in like a man being tempted to the dark side. He snorted. He’d been living on that side since his first tour, he just hadn’t realized it.
He always stepped forward, wanting to be closer to hear her orgasm as her body shook and her mouth opened with her scream.
But if he had her, it would just be the two of them. Two who lived better in the dark where their sins were less obvious. He could have her to himself, right there over the railing.
“More,” her throaty voice would demand.
He could grip her hips and slide in and out, the tension fluctuating as she spurred him on. Pumping faster, he’d fill her every time to the brink, his balls slapping against her as she panted and moaned until screaming, her sheath contracted around him, milking his cock for all it was worth.
“Argh.” The release of his come as it squirted onto the tile floor unwound his tension and freed his mind. He slowed his
hand, holding a bit of pressure on his happy dick. “Nice job.”
Finally letting go, he pulled paper towels from the holder and wet them to clean himself off. Trashing them, he grabbed another bunch and cleaned up the floor. Keeping his mind on the relief he felt, he returned to his bedroom and sprawled across the bed.
*
Adriana poured another round of shots. “That’s it, folks. Going to have to close up now.”
A chorus of whines from the four swingers followed her pronouncement.
“Ah, come on, Adriana. It’s only one. The n-night is young.”
She eyed the petite blonde with enhanced breasts. Patti was her name. “True, but I can’t keep the bar open with only four customers. If you want, I can charge a bottle of tequila to your account and you can take it back to your casita.”
“Oh, I like that idea. Do it.”
She added the bottle of high-end tequila and handed it over. “There you go. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
“Would you like to join us?” The blonde’s husband, Steve, gave her a wink.
“You know I would, but I still have a lot of work to do. Need to add to my liquor order after all you guys drank and that goes out tomorrow.”
Patti toasted the air with the bottle. “If you change your m-mind and want to come over later, we’re in casita number four.” She giggled, finding that funny.
Patti was obviously already feeling a little too good. Adriana smiled. “Good to know.”
As the foursome made their way down the path from the outdoor bar, she pulled the final shot glasses from the ironwood top and washed them in the scrubber.
She didn’t have to close the bar. She could have kept it open until two, but she was tired. Three hours of fitful sleep had not been enough. Then added to that the news about her car, even though nothing had been missing, and she was wrecked. She was bound to drop more than a beer glass if she continued to tend bar and she hated cleaning up glass. The chances of being cut were too high.
She flicked the scrubber off and turned out the lower bar lights. She’d been surreptitiously cleaning up for the last hour, ready to call it a night.