Dirty Men 03 - Rough Neck

by Dani Wyatt

  “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  We enter the kitchen and the woman standing there doesn’t seem surprised. In fact, she smiles at me and folds her arms over her chest, not saying a word.

  “Well, I am here and we are leaving.”

  “No, I can’t go.” She stops, pushing gently away from me.

  “Oh yes you can. Now, Dahlia. You’re coming with me. I’ll buy you whatever you need. It may not be the same life you’ve had, but it will be our life. And I’ll give you everything I can.”

  “No, it’s not that, I don’t care about that. I don’t care about stuff.” She turns her head to the woman, then back to me. But before she can say anything else, a man comes thundering into the kitchen.

  “Who the hell are you?” He stomps forward, but then stops sharp when I step toward him and move Dahlia behind my back.

  “I’m Dahlia’s fiancé.”

  “What?” I hear her exclaim from behind me, but I just wrap a hand backward and touch her gently, signaling for her to stay put.

  He laughs, then turns to the dark haired woman. “Did I not tell you not to let her out of her room?”

  “She’s not a prisoner.” The woman snaps. “You may think you’re her warden but you are supposed to be her father!”

  I like her already.

  “Yeah.” Dahlia pokes her head out from behind me, jabbing a finger in her father’s direction, but I sidestep and keep her out of his line of sight.

  “Doesn’t matter. Dahlia’s leaving with me. Now. End of discussion.”

  I turn, ready to spirit her away, but she looks up and pushes at my chest.

  “No.” She says, but I see the conflict in her.

  “Yes.” I command, taking her hand. But she tugs it away.

  “Davis, I have to stay.” Her eyes glaze over and something is different.

  “Dahlia has a fiancé. And you are not him.” Her father puts his phone to his ear, then begins to speak. “You are needed in the kitchen. Both of you, bring your weapons, there’s an intruder.”

  “Stop.” The woman interrupts. “Dahlia, go with him. Go.” She urges, shooing us with her hands. “Hurry.”

  “She’s not going.” Her father smirks. “Are you, Dahlia? Wouldn’t leave your beloved Sylvia to be sent back home after all these years. I’ve got I.N.S. right here on speed dial, Dahlia, it’s up to you.”

  “What is going on?” I spin Dahlia to face me, then give her father a glare that keeps him in his place.

  She hesitates, but then the truth spills from her mouth. “If I go with you, he’s going to turn Sylvia in. They’ll deport her. I can’t do that to her.”

  I turn and step toward her father, then glance back at the woman, Sylvia. Her eyes have gone wide, clearly she didn’t know anything about this.

  “Sweet,” she says. “Please, you need to go live your life. And besides...” Her tone sharpens and she smiles over at Dahlia’s father. “I’m sure I have some information that the Petrovs need. If I remember correctly,” she examines her fingernails for a long moment before continuing, looking directly at Dahlia’s father. “Section six, item four in your contract with the Petrovs read, ‘Subject Dahlia Summer Ferrell will be certified by a physician on the day of her wedding to be intact and a virgin. If in fact the subject is found to have lost her virginity, this contract is null and void.”

  The room falls silent as the woman sighs heavily, smiling at each of us.

  Two enormous security guards appear in the doorway behind Dahlia’s father, but he holds his hand up to still them.

  There is a long loud silence as we consider each other. I want to snap his neck with my bare hands but that will only delay the other thought that obsessively invades my mind.

  When her father finally looks at the floor, I shift my gaze to Dahlia and make a decision for us all.

  “Let’s go.” I grab Dahlia’s hand, then look over at Sylvia. “You, too. Get whatever you need.” I nod at her and her eyes sparkle. “We’re going home.”

  E P I L O G U E

  Dahlia

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  “Put your tit in my damn mouth.” I grint out as Dahlia straddles me swaying those magical hips as my hands dig in and grind her down onto my rigid cock.

  Her head falls back but she complies. A hand coming to lift her soft orb, then she looks down into my face and presses the hard peak to my lips.

  I growl, sucking it into my mouth and bring my teeth down just enough to make her go off. She fucking loves when I bite her. I’ve left my mark on her almost everywhere by now and the people in our life have stopped asking about the teeth marks.

  I don’t give a shit, I’ll mark what’s mine.

  We rock together as I draw her deep into my mouth. Her hands come to rip at my hair as she arches and cums on a spasm taking me along with her into bliss.

  The chair in our bedroom sits in front of a wall of windows that looks out over the prairie behind the creek house that we’ve just finished renovating and christening. We moved into two rooms downstairs two months ago when we’d arrived here after leaving her father’s house with Sylvia in tow.

  We lived in that one bedroom and used the main floor bath while I hired crews to rehab the rest of the house. Did a lot of the fine finish work myself after I’d transitioned into a consulting position with the company.

  Tank has taken over my job and fuck if I didn’t realize how nice it could be to not work three-hundred and fifty days a year.

  We’ve made love in almost every room in the house since the final touches were put on by the painting crew two days ago, but this spot seems to be our favorite.

  She sighs and softens, draping her body into me and I wrap my arms around her and pull her as close to me as I can as my cock leaves the last of the pulsing deposits in her tight body.

  Our combined fluids leak out drenching my sac and the blanket that covers the chair under my ass.

  “Thank you, Daddy.” She whispers then kisses the outside of my ear and hell if my cock doesn’t give a quick jerk at the sound of my name.

  “No, thank you baby. I love you.”

  She hums and shifts her hips. The soft roundness of her tits pressed into my upper chest as we sit there breathing and being for several minutes. Just enjoying the connection and the feel of being this close.

  We’re still trying to get a baby inside my girl. Seems everything is working it’s just not happened yet and truth we’re both okay with that. When it happens, we’ll celebrate like nobody’s business. For now, we're happy just to keep trying.

  Everyday.

  Two or three times.

  At least.

  Our cat Hemingway purrs on the windowsill and the crickets are starting to chirp their evening song outside as the sun brushes the horizon, turning the sky a pinkish orange over the prairie.

  “We’re late.” I kiss her shoulder and run my hands up and down my wife’s back.

  I still love thinking and saying that word.

  Wife.

  A week after we got here, got Sylvia and Aunt Becky acquainted, I put a ring on her finger and my name behind hers.

  “Are we still on our honeymoon?” She leans back and then pushes up, her body rising and leaving my cock still hard to bounce against my lower belly.

  “I don’t want our honeymoon to ever end.”

  “Well, I guess technically since we didn’t have a wedding, and we came right back here after, this is our honeymoon and it won’t ever end.” She twirls around her red hair flying like a circle of flames at her shoulders.

  “You told me you didn’t want a wedding remember? That’s why I surprised you and took you to the nearest chapel and turned you into Mrs. Davis Warren.”

  “Oh I know.” She smiles then walks toward the open door of the master bath as I get to my feet and follow. “I love everything about our live. I loved how we just wanted to be together and didn’t need all the ceremony. I’ve never wanted a big wedding. Just wanted someone that loved
me like you do.”

  I take a step to pet Hemingway who bats his eyes then closes them again as if I’m not even there.

  “No one else will ever love you like I do Babygirl. Noone.”

  I hear the shower start and follow her in. I soap her up, bend her over and take her quickly one more time before we manage to get out and dressed and out the front door.

  By the time we drive to Becky’s place down the dirt track through about fifty acres of prairie grass and Texas scrub trees, Dahlia is chattering on about the series of children’s books that she’s publishing.

  When we pull up in front of Becky’s place I get a crooked half smile. There’s Sylvia and Becky swinging on the front porch swing holding hands.

  Seems they got along better than expected. I’d known Becky had a few girlfriend’s in the past but Dahlia had never inquired about Sylvia’s love life. But now we all know, in our own way, it’s never too late to find love.

  Hell, if you had told me two months ago when I passed that pick up on the interstate with that guy and his girlfriend resting her head on his shoulder that I’d be looking as happy as he was now? Fuck, I would have said you were out of your mind. Never thought love was going to be in this old grouch’s wheelhouse. Life has different ideas sometimes.

  When it comes to love, never say never.

  MASTERING HER HEART

  C H A P T E R O N E

  PIKE

  I haven’t felt my heartbeat since I left. Almost six years have passed since that day, and I still haven’t forgiven myself. I didn’t want to go, but I had to. It was the only way, even though it broke me but saved her. At least that’s what I tell myself.

  I left my heart there.

  But took my shame with me.

  My cock hasn’t risen at the sight, sound or scent of another woman since the day I married her mother. The day she poked her head into her mother’s office, just as we were putting our signatures on the marriage certificate.

  Marriage.

  Might as well have been a merger. That certificate was a business document, nothing more. I think we celebrated with a glass of bourbon, but it could have been rye.

  As ashamed as I am to admit it, even before my feelings for her turned more intimate as she grew into a woman, my interest in any other females in the world evaporated the day I married her mother and saw her sweet face for the first time.

  Who would ever have guessed that a college pact with a friend would truly come to pass? A mutually beneficial agreement at that particular point in both our lives. Margaret and I never shared a kiss, certainly never shared a bed. It should have been simple.

  Only, the one part I hadn’t planned on in our deal was her.

  Willow.

  I knew that day. I remember the word repeating in my head at the first glance of her. Its meaning changed over the years as she grew but it still remains branded into my memory. Never before and never again will that word apply to anyone but her.

  Mine.

  I swallow hard and take a deep breath through my nose, trying to re-gain my bearings. No one around me would know it, but I am in a tailspin, out of control.

  The famous Lord Tower, about to crack his façade right here in front of a few hundred of my nearest and dearest.

  Truth is, I know none of them. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I know their names. We spend time together. But I give none of myself to them. To anyone.

  I’ve saved that for her.

  Unconsciously, yes. But now I’m done pretending.

  Because she’s here.

  And I can hardly believe my eyes.

  I’m riveted, watching her move through the crowd. She has three friends with her, or to be more precise it looks like she’s with them, following with wide eyes on the room, taking in the sights, smells, sounds. I know how intoxicating it can be. Inside my head the room goes silent.

  I reach to the pair of binoculars I keep on the table of the balcony. Using them allows me to be sure even from a distance that the rules of the club are respected. That no one is in over their head. Consent is king and it is my ultimate responsibility to keep a keen eye out for everyone that comes through my doors.

  At a moments notice I can push single button and all activity with my club will stop. From my perch above the floor of the club I raise the binoculars and tighten the sight onto her face.

  The face that’s swirled in my dreams for so many years.

  The face I imagine as this woman I see now, only dripping with my cum. Covered in me as I am with her.

  In my dreams she is feral, mewling, writhing at my feet as I coax her to show me who she is. Who we are.

  Together. Always together.

  My cock is fully erect. Tearing at the cloth of my vintage Armani tuxedo trousers with claws that seem to have sprung to life since she came through the door of my club and straight back into my life.

  Where she belongs.

  I know in this instant...never again will I live without her light in my life. There exists no force on Earth strong enough to keep me from her this time.

  “Sir?” The young woman in front of me registers only the most essential amount of my attention. The rest is reserved for Willow.

  “Yes, Vexxie, thank you for coming so quickly.”

  She’s a petite, delicate thing, well put together and loyal to a fault. One of the few members of my staff that I trust with the most important aspects of my life.

  “Of course, Sir. How can I be of service?” Vexxie lowers her eyes, as most of the staff do when I look directly at them.

  The dress code for staff is all black. That’s non-negotiable. Her above the knee, skin tight dress leaves nothing to the imagination. Black latex. High neck. It’s appropriate attire, designed to flatter and reveal, not to cover. But from me she draws nothing but professional attention.

  “You will service table seventeen tonight. I want you to give them your most impeccable service.”

  “Yes, Sir. Friends of yours?” She blushes as her voice quivers.

  A simple conversation with me has her barely able to form words.

  I consider the question for a long moment, then speak softly. “No.” The simple word is tinged with regret. When I continue, my jaw is tight. “Not friends.”

  With a tip of my head the conversation is over. Vexxie lowers her eyes and dismisses herself as I step back onto the balcony of my office, half hidden behind the black velvet drapery pulled around the gently curved corners.

  I’ve owned this club for twenty years. In this world, our public names are rarely used. Here, I am known as Lord Tower and this place is the House of Tower. A mansion I purchased, renovated and opened specifically for the purpose of entertaining the elegance and dignity of the Lifestyle. Not the carnival ride of taboo and sex it has become elsewhere. No, I am from another school. An ancient time when respect, authority, wisdom, honor and reverence were the character traits most valued in this life.

  It’s not just about the sex as so many wrongly assume. That’s a perversion that’s taken on a life of its own in the last decade. I am a single minded, decisive, dominant man. I want one woman, one individual, and if nothing ever comes to pass between us then I will not touch another. Never. It will be that way until the day I die.

  “Lord Tower?” Sir James stops just outside the open office door.

  The staff know I am available to them at all times. I care deeply about each one of them. Well, I am available unless the red light is on outside my door, but that’s only happened once in twenty years. It wasn’t because I brought someone here with me. No, it was when I felt most alone and wished for that loneliness to punish me.

  I smile at James. The genial smile comes easily for me but for too long it’s been merely a facial reaction without the depth of joy it should represent. “Yes. Come in.”

  “May I ask a favor?” James is attired in a black suit that absorbs any light, seeming to stay pressed and sharp without a single crease as he moves forward into the room and takes a
seat in one of my white wingback chairs. My office is a blend of purity and decadence. Fresh cream and white, splashes of gold, moments of rich red the color of blood.

  Seems that is the theme in my life and it repeats itself in places I didn’t realize until right now.

  “Of course, Sir James. What can I do for you?”

  My club has kept the old school dignity of the lifestyle alive in this area. This world is not what it once was. She changed everything for me the day she swept my heart from my chest with a single glance.

  I am still the Lord of this House, but I have not raised a hand, a tool or a touch to anyone since that day I met my stepdaughter. She was too young then, of course, and my feelings toward her were simple, pure, paternal. Nonetheless, the essence of her heart shifted something in my very DNA. My being changed that day.

  At first I was her protector. A custodian of her in every way. I took joy in her joy. Pain in her pain. I provided for her. Loved her. Kept her safe. I knew she was destined to be mine. A part of me in some way for the rest of my life.

  As the years moved by, what grew in my heart shook me to my very core. As she grew into a woman, my wanting changed.

  Then, the want became too much. Too acutely painful. As she blossomed under my very nose, the beast inside of me grew and roared to life. It was wrong. She was too innocent and I knew I would destroy her if I stayed.

  So, I left. My shame multiplied tenfold as I said goodbye and kissed the tears from her cheeks. Secretly dying inside as I tried to explain to her not only why her mother and I were parting, but why I was leaving.

  As I struggled with the decision to stay or go, my fate was sealed. My other life, my life as Lord Tower threatened to be exposed by a former business advisary who wandered into my club one evening. Most in the life are discreet, respecting the decency of keeping this part of our life out of the public eye.

  Unfortunately, not all men are honorable. Imagining Willow being exposed to this other part of my life at her age made me realize just how much she would be hurt by me if I stayed. If it wasn’t this person, I feared it would eventually be someone else that would bring to a public forum my status as the owner of Club Tower. If it were to happen, I wanted the damage to her to be minimized. Couple that with the growing desire I had for my stepdaughter, the pain I was sure to cause her if I stayed, I could no longer put my need to be close to her in front of her need to be safe. To enjoy her innocence and find a life for herself.