by Lea Griffith
That his brother had left it on her front porch pissed him right the fuck off. She held it out to him and he took it from her calmly, putting it into his pocket.
He was about ten seconds from reaching for her. Instead, he inclined his head. “Feel free to have a drink on the house, or enjoy,” he glanced around the club, “the atmosphere.”
Something dark moved through her eyes and his breath caught.
“I’ll pass,” she responded, and her voice was arctic.
He shrugged. “Then leave.” He would never have admitted it to her, but his command was a test. She’d been his three years ago. She’d left him, and now she’d returned. The reason for her presence in his dungeon tonight was irrelevant. He had to know—would she still respond to him?
She bowed her head just once, straightened her shoulders, and turned away. She had always obeyed beautifully. Submissive.
It was too much. With the sounds of other people’s desire in his ears, and the woman he longed for so close he could taste her in the air, it was just too fucking much.
“Stop,” he called out.
She kept walking. His heart snapped in two, the crack in it since she’d walked away splintering completely as the organ threatened to stop beating altogether. She left him three years ago. She hadn’t trusted him—hadn’t given him time or a chance to explain anything.
And she thought she’d walk away again? No matter that he’d just commanded her to leave, and that he’d survived by not seeing her. Now that she’d forced this meeting, all bets were off.
“You will stop, Daly,” he said in a vicious voice.
She didn’t, and it took everything in him not to chase after her, wrap her in his arms, and take her to the floor. Maybe use his ropes, tie her to the bolts in the ceiling, and then use his flogger to mark her back until her body sang with need. He growled. It was a very base response to what she stirred in him and how right they had been together. And he knew she recognized his current state, because her hips swayed just a little more and her pace increased.
Run, sexy little rabbit, he thought. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and kept walking, until she stepped out of his club.
He should let her go. They were impossible together. What they’d been three years ago had shone brighter than any sun, then they’d burned too hot and hurt each other too deeply.
But he craved her. And he knew damn well her body still needed what only he could give. She belonged to him and if he was truthful with himself, didn’t think about how she’d left him, he belonged to her—in all ways, physical and emotional; man and Dominant.
Impossible.
Improbable.
But true.
He took off after her, moving swiftly around dancers on the floor, ignoring people who called his name. Toby followed, and Copeland wondered if it was to protect him or the woman he chased after.
He stepped out of the club, but she was nowhere to be seen. “Bring the car around,” Jeremiah said, not turning but aware that Toby was close enough to hear his command.
Toby beat a path to do what he’d asked. Moments later Copeland got in on the passenger’s side. “When you drop me off, go to David’s house and make sure he’s safe for the time being.”
His brother was the district attorney for the City of Atlanta. And he’d sent Copeland a message through Daly. The ring meant trouble. God help David if this brought anything but Copeland to Daly’s door.
Toby didn’t question; he simply nodded. Copeland leaned his head back and as he watched the streets of Atlanta pass by in a blur, he questioned whether he knew how to do the right thing anymore. She’d cut and run, leaving him battered and incomplete. He’d thought he’d drawn the short straw in life, until she’d walked into his club tonight demanding to see him.
She’d always run from the difficult things unless they were in the bedroom. A smile creased his face as he remembered just how difficult they’d gotten and how high they’d both flown. Copeland missed the feel of her skin against his and the softness of her hair over his chest. He missed her sighs and moans, and the flex and play of her body as he pounded inside it.
He missed her.
By luck or providence, she’d come back to him. Whether she realized the ramifications of her stubbornness in seeking him out or not, she was on his line. Copeland need only set the hook deeper and reel her in.
He took a deep breath, relaxed into the seat, and made himself a promise: Daly wouldn’t run from him any longer.
Chapter 3
Daly pulled into her garage, turning off the car as the door automatically closed. How long she sat staring at the wall outside her windshield she didn’t know, but it was long enough for her ass to begin numbing. She sighed and hit the steering wheel with her fist.
She’d made a huge mistake going to see Copeland tonight. In fact, “huge” might not accurately describe what she’d set into motion. She had refused to stop when he told her to and she knew he’d take it as a challenge. When you baited Jeremiah Copeland, intentionally or not, he reacted with the single-minded intensity of a lion on the hunt.
She wouldn’t panic. She could do this.
“Ah, screw it!”
Another tap on the steering wheel and she got out of the car and walked into the house. She threw her keys and purse on the kitchen bar, then headed to the bedroom. Her single-story bungalow in Buckhead was small by other’s standards, but it suited her perfectly. Two bedrooms, two baths, a large kitchen, and a living room comprised the structure. She’d put wooden floors in after she bought it. She’d also updated her kitchen appliances to stainless. Sparing no expense, Daly then surrounded herself with plush leather in the living room and deep mahogany wood in the master bedroom.
This house had become her baby when she’d left Jeremiah. She’d decorated her furnishings with deep reds, violets, and creams. Daly made it her refuge. Normally it soothed and comforted. Tonight her little house rang with emptiness.
Seeing him did this to her every time—left her aching in all kinds of places. She wasn’t prey, damn it. He’d been the prey; she, the hunter.
“I’ll show you, Jeremiah Copeland,” she muttered as she walked into her room and began unlacing her corset.
She flipped on the small bedside lamp and sat down on the edge of her bed, unzipping her boots before pulling them off. Daly stood and had just begun to wiggle out of her skintight leather pants when the scent of cedar invaded her nostrils.
The hair on the back of her neck rose as gooseflesh dotted her entire body. She froze, afraid to look behind her.
“You’ll show me what, Day? That fine ass you’ve kept from me for three years?”
He was behind her before the notes of his voice dropped from the air. His heat sank into her skin. His smell wrapped around her throat and squeezed.
“Or maybe you’ll show me those gorgeous breasts you’ve also kept from me? No?”
He stepped around her, and she faced the man who had both awakened and broken her. Thoughts bombarded her. How had he bypassed her security? Why the hell was he here?
The answer to how was simple. He was Jeremiah Copeland and he knew many ways to circumvent the law. More than that, he knew her, so he’d probably guessed her security code. She’d have to change it—the code and the locks. Just in case. She tried to stir up some anger, but it just wasn’t there. Strange, that.
The answer to why was beyond her. It could be as complex as that he had taken her actions earlier as a challenge. Or it could be as simple as that he pretty much did whatever he wanted.
He took another step forward, and she allowed her head to fall forward because suddenly, she didn’t have the strength to hold it up. Her pants were around her thighs, leaving her completely bared to his gaze. Daly had gone commando, not even bothering with a thong. With her heels off, she was left to stare at his silk-covered chest.
“Maybe you’ll show me that pussy that taunts me with its heat even now—the smell of your arousal is a taste on my tong
ue. A taste I’ve never forgotten.”
Her body brushed his with every breath she took. Goddamn him for making her feel so small and insecure … so needy. Her gaze rose to meet his and she inhaled sharply. His face was carved from stone. Irritation rode red on his cheekbones as his nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed and glittered dangerously. One corner of his mouth curled up, giving him a rakish edge.
Daly wanted to feel anger but the emotion was elusive, her body desiring something else entirely. So there she was, corset hanging open barely covering her breasts and pants shucked around her thighs, not a thing to cover her from his stare.
It was all forgotten—the past, the hurt between them … everything faded. And all she wanted was him. His lips on hers, his cock buried inside her, and his hands doing wicked, wicked things to her before, after, and in between.
“You can’t talk, can you, Day? You missed my heat, didn’t you, baby? Tell me.” He leaned down and whispered at her ear. “Did you also miss my cock in your mouth? Your pussy? Your ass?”
She whimpered and lowered her head. He hadn’t given her permission to—wait, permission to what? Answer him? Look at him? He wasn’t her Dom anymore. He wasn’t her anything anymore.
“Oh, I can see that pissed you right off. I remember how your anger used to rile you up. Tell me, if I touch your pussy will it be wet with need for me?”
His words heightened her arousal to such an intensity she could have wept. Even so, she didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.
He touched her then, tangling his hand in her hair and gently tugging her head back, forcing her to look at him. “Tell. Me.”
His words were soft. His meaning was not.
“Yes, damn you,” she bit out. “I’ll be wet. Yes, I missed your heat.” His eyes flared, heat in the midst of so much cold. “Yes, I missed your cock—in my mouth, my pussy, and my ass. Now tell me, Jeremiah, do you miss all those things too? Is that why you followed me home and broke in? You want to what? Reconnect?”
His hand clenched and the small bite of pain from him pulling her hair had her body melting. His chest brushed her breasts and she wanted his hand on them, plucking her pierced nipples and easing the sting. But there he stood, taking and not giving.
It had been that way when she’d left him. She had needed answers as to why he was once again engaging in criminal activity. He denied her those answers, as well as denying her any assurance that he hadn’t fallen back into his old ways. She had loved him. He hadn’t loved her enough. The reminder was like a shot of ice water in her veins.
“Stop,” she said, barely above a whisper.
He went still and stared down at her for a long moment. “That’s not your safe word, Day.”
She had no response for that. Jeremiah smiled then, and her stomach flip-flopped.
He reached for her, with his other hand slowly caressing down her side and hip and over her belly. His fingers circled her navel and traveled to the top of her pubis. She watched him the entire time; he held her head still and kept her gaze prisoner with his own. Daly wished she were strong enough to demand he let her go.
She wasn’t. This man had commanded her from the moment she’d met him. Then, as soon as she reached the age of twenty-one, he’d claimed a piece of her she hadn’t even realized was there. Submission. Jeremiah had reached inside her mind and ferreted out her darkest secrets. She’d given herself into his keeping without reservation, and then he’d betrayed her.
Daly had thought they were strong enough to withstand an assault from outside influences. Jeremiah showed her they weren’t.
“If I touch you here, will you give yourself over to me?” His voice was silky, and it pulled at the fraying threads of her control.
What game was he playing?
She snorted delicately. “We’ve been down that road.”
He nodded, and his beautiful face became unreadable. “We have, but I need to reacquaint myself with the territory.”
He skimmed his fingers over her labia and her knees buckled. He caught her with ease, releasing her hair and wrapping his arm around her low back.
“You want this so badly. You need this, don’t you, Day? How long has it been?”
Her head fell to his chest. Jeremiah didn’t stop there; he spread her lips apart and circled her clitoris. Over and over his fingers caressed her flesh. It was madness.
He hissed as her hips pushed against his hand. “Your body vibrates with the need to come. How long has it been since someone pleasured you, Day? Do not make me ask again.”
She squeezed her eyes closed and felt the hot sting of tears as they leaked onto her cheeks. How could she let him touch her? Where was her fortitude? It was lost under the magic of his fingers on her body.
They’d shared a bond so deep, so consuming, that the trust between them had been implicit. Once that trust was broken, the relationship died. That in no way meant their emotional connection simply disappeared. She’d tried, though—for three damn years she’d tried to let him go in every single way.
His hands on her flesh brought everything back. She had loved him. Shared her body with him. Obviously still wanted him. Good Lord, how her body wanted …
He touched deeper now, a single finger teasing the depths of her pussy, and the need to answer became a drumbeat in her brain, insistent and loud. How long, how long, how long? She tried to fight it, but he had taken her will. “Three years,” she whispered.
“Goddamn,” he bit out.
He kissed her temple, the action brutally tender, but most of her attention was centered on the sensations he created in her lower body. She couldn’t respond to his sweetness when the heat of his words and hands took her self-control. For this moment, she didn’t care. She missed him.
Jeremiah played her expertly. Soft strokes, followed by quick flicks, and then deep rubs … his fingers knew her. Her body remembered him.
“Please,” she said on a moan.
Finally, a sharp tap on her clitoris had her back bowing over his arms. But she couldn’t let go, not until …
“Come,” he ordered in a hard voice.
She flew apart just … that … easily.
Her release seemed to go on forever. His size, his smell, the way he held her escalated the sensations, and Daly wanted to scream for him to fuck her. She would have begged, but he soothed her with deep rumbles from his chest and praises she’d long missed. She concentrated on the depth and beauty of his voice, letting her body come down from its high.
He used his foot to push her pants the rest of the way down her legs, “Step out of these, Day.”
She did as he asked and cursed her weakness around him. But it was only for him. Had only ever been for Jeremiah.
He removed her corset, kissing her nipples, continuing to praise her beauty the entire time. Picking her up, Jeremiah then placed her naked on the bed before he pulled the comforter over her.
“Sleep. I’ll be here.”
Daly wanted to fight his dominance. But didn’t. She’d deal with it when she woke up. For now, she’d take the release he’d given her and sleep.
* * *
Copeland didn’t know what hurt worse, the fact she’d had no lovers since him or that he had been with several.
She immediately fell asleep. His heart, already broken, was heavy with regret. Daly undid him every time she came; her sighs put him back together. He’d praised her, kissing her breasts as he cherished her body. They’d both needed that. She’d given him her release, and that meant more than she was probably ready to deal with. So he let her sleep.
He stood there and watched her breathe. So quickly the heat built between them. It was an irresistible force. She’d let him touch her, but it was because he’d taken her by surprise. She was strong, always had been. That strength made her submission sweeter.
He’d considered her surrender his greatest gift. She had completed him … made him a better man. For her, he’d left behind a lucrative life of crime. It hadn’t been
a difficult decision. For her, he’d traveled the long road to legitimacy in all his business dealings. He had lived to see her smiles, feel her passion, and know that every day she was his.
She’d once been his everything.
For long minutes he watched sleep take her, her muscles relaxing one a time. He enjoyed every second, but what he wanted to do was strip down, bury his cock in her body, and ride them both to orgasm.
He took a deep breath and grimaced. He’d played with other women the first year after she left. He’d whipped them, flogged them, spanked them, and fucked them, but none had given him peace.
The only woman to ever have done that lay naked in front of him. His hands itched to stroke her. They ached to feel the sting of his palms on her ass. But instead of waking her he rubbed his hands on his pants, adjusted himself, and walked out of the room.
His phone vibrated. “Yeah?”
“He’s safe,” Toby said.
“And?”
Toby sighed. “David won’t tell me why he left it.”
Copeland rubbed his eyes. Fuck. That couldn’t mean anything good. “Is she in any danger?”
“David says she’s safe; he just needed a delivery person and he needs to talk to you. Soon.”
Copeland grunted. “So he picked her? I’m not buying it.” He should have called his brother directly but after the last incident, David had kept his distance. “He needs to meet me at the lake house Monday night. Tell him I don’t give a flying shit how he maneuvers it; his ass better be there. He involved Daly. He’s in a shitload of trouble with me.”
“Got it,” Toby replied. “When do I pick you up?”
There was not a single note of curiosity in Toby’s tone. Copeland appreciated that. Toby had long ago advised him to move on. He’d gone so far as to say that his sister deserved better than what Copeland could offer. At the time, he’d agreed. Now Copeland wasn’t so sure. All of his businesses were aboveboard and he could offer her everything he hadn’t been able to then. She’d known him at his worst. Would she want him at his best?