by Dakota Trace
Chapter Eighteen
Evidently he’d thought too soon. Jackson’s inner grumbles didn’t cease as he climbed out of his car at the Larson Securities. He’d been called away from his breakfast and a morning of snuggling and domination with his new submissive due to an emergency. Leaving Rena in the shower had taken all of his considerable control, but staring at the chaos around him, it was obvious he was needed. When he finally spotted Jude standing beyond the police cars, bomb squad and fire department, his partner’s hair was sticking up in all directions and he looked frazzled. Approaching the police line, he was halted by a uniformed police officer.
“I’m sorry, Sir, you can’t…”
“I’m the other owner of Larson Securities.” Giving the officer his name, he was ushered past the police tape. As he joined Jude, his friend barely paused to look at him. Something was eating at his friend. “What the hell is going on? I was just sitting down to enjoy breakfast with Rena…”
“I got a call at the club from an unknown number less than thirty minutes ago. The asshole told me to give you a message: either you leave Rena alone, or he’s going to destroy our business.” Jude finally met his gaze head on. The haunted look in his eyes took Jackson back, until his friend continued to speak. “And to show he’s serious he left a package in your office – the kind that goes boom. The bomb squad is in there right now dismantling it.”
Shock washed over Jackson as he tried to wrap his brain around the idea of someone wanting him dead to the point of planting a bomb in his office. Not only did a bomb endanger everyone who shared the building with Larson Securities, but also the ramifications it would mean for Jude. Since his ‘accident’ during their last tour of the Middle East, Jude had nightmares about someone trying to blow him up again. “Damn, I’m sorry, Jude.” He cupped a hand over his friend’s shoulder. Jackson would have to talk to his aunt before his friend went home to her.
Detective Anderson joined them, cutting the sudden tension. “You know, Jackson, we need to quit meeting like this. One might think trouble follows you around.” Dressed casually in swim trunks and tank top, Sean looked like he’d been interrupted on his way to the beach. His arrival drew Jackson out of his morbid thoughts.
“Sorry they dragged you in on your day off, Anderson.” Jude shook the detective’s hand. “So do you have any new information for us on who might’ve done this?”
Sean nodded, referring down to his tablet. “Not much to go on as far as the who but the how….according to the bomb tech the threat was viable. There’s a…” a frown crossed Sean’s face. “…a nitro-cellulose/black powder bomb contained in a small shoe box with a remote detonator that was placed under the desk in Jackson’s office.”
“What the fuck? That’s a low pressure explosive. It’d only….” Jude frowned
“…take out whoever was sitting at the desk…namely Jackson.” Sean finished. “We’re dealing with one sick fuck here, gentleman. Not only was the bomb targeted at just one person, but there’s a message smeared in what looks like blood. Our forensics team took a sample to determine its origin. They think it might be the same substance we collected from the master bedroom at Jude’s condo, but further testing will either prove or disprove that theory.” He snapped his notebook shut and turned his attention to Jackson. “Either way someone isn’t very happy you’re involved with Rena. Either you leave her alone or he going to take your business down. Whether physically or in a business sense, I don’t know, but the perp seems serious.
“Fuck.” Jackson raked his hand through his hair. This was the last thing he’d expected. If the test came back positive, it meant that the attack at Jude’s had nothing to do with his friend but everything to do with him. “I’m sorry. It looks like I’ve gotten you in trouble once again, Jude.” Jackson walked a short distance away, the weight of the world on his shoulders. How could he have gone from being on the top of the world this morning to this mess now? Get over it Levough, sometimes life just isn’t fair, you know that. What’s important is that Rena’s okay. Reaching for his cell, he punched out her number. A moment later, a warm rush of pleasure filled him as Rena’s voice came on the phone.
“Ma peekôn, we’ve got a situation down here. I may be a little longer than I expected…”
* * * *
Jude sighed as his partner stepped back across the police barricade with his phone to his ear. Next to him, Sean shifted uncomfortably as Jackson walked away. As he moved to follow, Jude grabbed the detective’s arm. “Don’t. Let him go. He’ll be back. Give him a second to process everything.”
“I have questions I need to ask him. Are you sure he isn’t leaving?”
Jude nodded. “Very sure. Jackson is a stand-up guy and more than likely he’s checking on his woman right now to make sure she’s okay.”
“His woman? Is this the same Rena I met earlier at your condo?”
Jude nodded. “Yes. I independently contracted her to work the case from my end shortly after the break-in. She used to work for me before deciding to move on to working for herself. She’s a top notch investigator.”
Sean scribbled in his book. “So the break was amicable?”
“It was. She even recommended and trained her replacement.” Jude was careful to omit the fact that while Rena had trained Levi, it was a long time before she’d turned in her resignation. There was no doubt in his mind Rena had nothing to do with the break-in at his home.
“A good employee then.” He glanced up at Jude. “Is it possible this has anything to do with her?” He consulted his tablet again. “I don’t see any mention of her name being anywhere at the break-in at your home or in the graffiti on your car. I’m not even sure if the two are related…”
“Unless the person responsible is using a vendetta against people in the lifestyle as a smoke screen, I honestly don’t think they are. This is too personal. Whoever planted the bomb definitely was pissed at my partner’s budding relationship with Rena.”
“I’ll bet you anything it’s Louis Vayarti III.” Jackson rejoined them.
Sean froze. “Are you talking about the Wall Street Mogul – Louis Vayarti? Why would he be targeting you?”
“It’s probably because Rena flat out turned him down when he asked her to resume their relationship a few days ago. He went as far as attacking her at her apartment last night until I pulled him off her. He was arrested for B. & E. along with assault. I hate to think what would’ve happened if I hadn’t escorted her up to her apartment after our date.”
Sean scribbled another note in his tablet. “I’m sure he would’ve probably injured her even worse if you hadn’t been there.”
Jude laughed outright. “Now, I know you don’t know Rena all that well. The one who should be thanking their lucky stars is Louis. That woman is pure hell on wheels when she’s pissed. I hear she punched the poor bastard in the balls.”
Jackson grinned. “That she did. Not that he didn’t deserve it. She ended up having eighteen stitches in her head from where he split her open.”
Sean gave a low whistle. “Remind me not to piss your woman off, Levough.”
“A good idea for sure,” Jackson agreed before unclipping his phone from his belt. “Why don’t you let me call WhiteHawk and see if his informant at the jail has any information whether or not Louis was released early?”
Shaking his head Sean stopped him. “Don’t do that. Let me find out on my end. If it is indeed Mr. Vayarti, any indication of you or anyone in your company checking up on him could set him off again. Lord knows what he’ll try next time. He might even directly attack your girl.”
“Like hell he will! I’ll tear him to fuckin’ pieces.”
Jude winced as Jackson clenched and unclenched his fists. There was no doubt in his mind now. His partner was more than infatuated with Rena. He couldn’t remember Jackson ever being this protective of, not even long ago when he and Suzette were engaged.
“Calm down, Levough.”
“I don’t want to calm
down. I’d like to see you be calm if this was happening to Olivia or hell even Micah? Would you be calm if it was your Mistress?”
Jude wanted to groan as several of the officers around them stopped to stare. “Jackson, you ass! Thanks for letting the damned cat out of the bag. Now everybody in the vicinity knows I’m a fuckin’ submissive.”
Sean narrowed his eyes before shifting to move closer to them. “Pardon me for asking but is Rena involved in the BDSM scene as well? Could Louis be striking out at those in the lifestyle because he lost her to it?”
Jude frowned. “I don’t know. If he is, he won’t be a member of a local club here in Chicago. His club would be back in New York. I can have Mistress do a few discrete inquires…”
When Sean’s mouth opened to protest once more, Jude held up a hand. “Don’t. My Mistress is the epitome of discretion, and honestly you don’t understand how the BDSM world works. Club owners talk to each other, to keep out abusers and those who’d give the lifestyle a bad name. It’s an invaluable network, one I’m sure she won’t mind using…”
The radio at Sean’s hip squawked and interrupted Jude’s reply. “Bomb squad has given an all clear. The bomb has been neutralized. Send up C.S.I. to work the scene.”
“Well, gentlemen, that’s my cue. Jude, if you think Olivia’s connections might help work this angle, please give her my thanks and have her work her magic.” Jude had to smother his smile as Sean turned to Jackson. “And you, Jackson, don’t go off half-cocked. I don’t want to have to arrest you for assault or worse.”
Jackson looked ready to grumble and Sean held up a hand. “Why don’t you take your woman out for a nice dinner and enjoy the rest of your Saturday?”
* * * *
Lounging in nothing more than a long t-shirt and a miniscule pair of panties on her plush couch, Rena looked up from her magazine when Jackson stormed into her apartment. She’d given him her key earlier so she wouldn’t have to buzz him up. “Jackson?” He looked a little worse for wear and she hoped whatever had called him away from her side this morning was over. She wanted more of the tender Dom he’d shown her. Not that I’ll always want gentle. I love rough even more.
“Present, slave.” His bark sent excitement surging through her body. Without a thought, she slid off the couch, uncaring that her magazine fell to the floor beside her. As she knelt, her body assumed the position as if it hadn’t been nearly a year since the last time she’d done it. With her legs splayed open, her back straight, and her palms resting face up on her knees, she bowed her head slightly, watching through her lashes as Jackson kicked off his shoes, stripped his shirt off and disappeared into her bedroom.
As the minutes dragged on and no sound came from her room, curiosity finally got the better of her and she lifted her head, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Jackson had been standing just out of view and evidently by his narrow lips, he’d been waiting for her to sneak a peek. His words confirmed it “You’ve been a bad little sub, haven’t you? Breaking form without permission after coming this morning before your Dom said you could. One might think you want a punishment.” He tapped the hairbrush on his thigh.
She nodded, her insides melting at the rhythmic thud of her hairbrush. She could almost feel it striking her ass. The image of her bent over his lap, while he used the brush on her until she was repentant, flowed through her mind. Suddenly she found it hard to swallow.
“That’s not an answer, slave.” The growl in his voice sent shivers up her spine.
“I’m sorry, Sir.” She could feel her nipples poking against the t-shirt she wore. Would he actually paddle her? God she hoped so, but as the submissive, she had no say in when or if he’d give her what she needed. It was one aspect of the power exchange she loved…the unpredictability of it all.
“Sorry for what?” He moved closer, brushing the top of her head with one hand. “For breaking form or coming all over me without permission?”
A whimper built in her throat. “Both, Sir?” She nearly swallowed her tongue when he squatted down in front of her, the faded denim stretched tight across his crotch outlining his erection.
“Is that a question or an answer?”
“An answer, Sir.” Her breath hissed out between her parted lips as he drew her face up to his. She half expected him to smile indulgently at her before bending her over. Instead he studied her face.
“What is your safeword, Rena?”
“Afferro.”
“Good.” He pulled her to her feet, before sitting down on the couch. His hands slid up under the shirt to grasp the sides of her panties. Tugging them down, he slipped them over her thighs to her calves and finally off her feet. She wanted to moan when he brought them to his face and inhaled.
“Delicious.” His eyes burned hotter as he tossed them away. “Over my legs, now.”
She arranged herself over his lap, very conscious of the fact he’d drawn up her shirt, exposing her ass to his view. She bit her lower lip to keep from begging as he cupped her bottom before giving it a slight slap. She barely felt the sting of his palm, but all it did was make her long for something harder.
“You have a beautiful ass, slave.”
“Thank you, Sir.” She braced her hands on the floor as he soothed the shirt farther up until her waist was exposed. When he growled, she assumed he’d finally spotted her tattoo, the one which until this moment had always been covered. The beautifully inked coiled whip wrapped around the three tiger lilies that cupped a colorful triskellion had been her gift to herself when she’d finally embraced her submissive nature.
“Damn, baby. That’s hot.” He traced over it with his fingertips. “But not hot enough to keep me from punishing you. You’ll receive twenty strokes with the brush for coming without my permission and five for the break in form. Are you ready?”
She nodded, bracing herself for the first blow.
“That’s not an answer, slave.” His hand landed on her ass, stinging.
“Yes, Sir. I’m ready.”
“Good. Now I want you to count off for me.” He ordered.
The first blow came down, not as hard as she’d liked, but she obeyed as her left cheek began to warm up. “One.” Then the next blow was perfectly placed as it warmed the right side of her ass. “Two.” She hissed as the blows became faster. Each one added to the burn in her pussy until she was ready to scream. It was all she could do to keep count with him. As the fire in her ass blazed hotter, tears ran down her face in relief. It had been too long since their time in Ireland. She needed this as much as Jackson. As she gasped twenty-one, he suddenly stopped as if to admire his work.
His hand lightly touched her bottom. Even if it didn’t show the color like it would on a white girl, she knew the resulting heat had to be warming his hand. “So hot.” As his fingers slipped between her parted thighs, she tried to close her legs, ashamed of how easy she was. Louis had always made fun of her body’s ready acceptance of paddling. He’d called her a freaky slut more than once. At the time though she’d thought he’d said it with affection.
A low grumble came from above her. “Don’t hide from me. Be proud of how your body reacts – I am.” He pinched the inside of her thigh, and the pain had her obeying. It was different than the burn radiating from her bottom. The pinch was sharp and almost astringent. “Good girl.” His fingers brushed her labia before piercing the creaming entrance of her sex. The slight squish as his index and middle fingers powered in and out of her filled the room. She gasped, clinging to his leg to keep from bucking up into his palm. “So wet.” He pulled free. “I’ll have to do something about that after we finish your punishment. How many strokes do we have left, Rena?”
Her brain froze as she tried to remember what number they’d been on, but her body fought the battle and was close to succeeding when he spoke again.
“Was it three or four?” He ran his finger down the crack of her ass. “Think carefully, slave, because if you’re wrong, I’ll be fucking your ass instead of…” The qu
esting fingertip slid lower. “…this wet little pussy.”
She wanted to scream as he withdrew his touch once more and simply guessed. “Four, Sir!”
He chuckled. “Lucky guess, my love. Now count.” He released the last four strokes in a flurry of movement, setting her whole ass on fire. She moaned as he tossed the brush away, yanked her up and undid his jeans. She screamed as he lifted her, then slammed her down on his condom-covered cock. Evidently he’d done more than grab her brush while he’d been in her bedroom.
“Now ride me!” He gave the order and she was helpless but to obey the command. Her ass stung a bit each time she slapped against his denim covered thighs, but she was too aware of the thick stalk of flesh stretching her until she felt like she was riding a baseball bat. “Fuck yeah.” Jackson’s hands yanked off her shirt as she jogged up and down harder. Her orgasm beckoned but she refused to yield.
“So God damn tight!” Jackson’s bit-off curse nearly had her stopping, or she would’ve if he hadn’t wrapped his hands around her waist and began to buck up under her.
“Sir!” She clung desperately to his shoulders, fighting the urge to come when he suddenly stilled her movements. “Uh…Sir…?” Confusion swamped her. Why had he…
“Look, ma peekôn.” He turned her head towards the glass curio cabinet on the other side of the living room, where she kept her collection of tiny little glass figurines. In the reflection of the glass behind the small animals, she finally saw what he wanted her to see. There in living glory was her dark, naked body straddling his tan partially clothed one. “Now watch, little voyeur, as I take you.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing but a soundless scream came out as he slid down a fraction so his muscular ass hung off the couch, and braced his long denim covered legs on the floor. Her world exploded as with a flex of his lean hips, he pounded up into her welcoming body, his body a work of art as he fucked out the very breath she was trying to breathe. Pleasure and pain became one as her body seemed to come apart at the seams. This was nothing like the gentle but thorough orgasm he’d given her earlier. This was a beast of one which she’d never return from unchanged, one so awesome it would leave no doubt in either of their minds who she belonged to.