Craving His Command - A Doms Of Genesis Novella

by Jenna Jacob

  Call Reed.

  Call the police…the fucking National Guard…for shit’s sake, call someone! her subconscious screamed.

  But Mercy couldn’t risk taking her hands off the door to retrieve her phone from her purse. She lifted her head and spied a silver deadbolt shimmering above her hands.

  Visions of Kerr crashing through the portal before she could engage the lock pelted her psyche, but Mercy refused to cower to him or her fears. Sucking in a deep breath, she flipped the latch with trembling fingers. The snick of the lock sent relief to storm her system. Though she was far from being out of danger, the temporary reprieve filled her with hope. Hope that Kerr might think she’d taken refuge in another room and move on so she could run away from this labyrinth of fear.

  Interminable anxious seconds slowly ticked by while sweat and tears slid down her face.

  Suddenly, with what felt like the force of an earthquake, the door shook.

  Mercy slapped a hand over her mouth to hold back a scream while a little voice inside her head beckoned her to run!

  Blinded by a frenzy of fear, she turned and slammed into a wide black wall that nearly knocked the wind out of her. Strong masculine arms gripped her shoulders.

  “Whoa.” A deep, whiskey-smooth voice vibrated through her. “Do you need help, miss?”

  Mercy didn’t answer. The debilitating terror coursing through her veins had rendered her mute. As she fought to suck air into her lungs, she realized something else was chasing the cyclone of panic racing through her. The stranger’s touch had ignited an arc of heat that tingled down her limbs, up her spine, and gathered between her legs. Bewildering carnal sparks tangled with terror and sputtered through her. She tried to pass off the sensation as part of the enormous adrenaline dump that was taking place inside her, but deep down, she knew the familiar ache was wholly sexual. Confused by the untimely awakening in her panties, Mercy tried to sort the barrage of conflicted emotions as she stared at the crisp pressed pleats of black fabric in front of her face. When she was finally able to gather enough courage, she raised her chin and gasped.

  A shudder tore through her as she gazed into the familiar sapphire eyes of Sir Justice. The allusive and intriguing Dom from Club Genesis who’d captured her attention and invaded her dreams for the past three months. For a moment, Mercy wondered if this were simply another frustrating dream. But as she watched a parade of emotions march across his face, she knew this wasn’t another one of her sexually charged fantasies.

  “Symoné?” He whispered her name. It felt like a caress.

  Tongue-tied, Mercy couldn’t respond. She simply stared, slack-jawed, at the mysterious Dom. Up close and personal with him now, his commanding aura made her want to fall at his feet and satisfy him in every way, even more. He’d watched her for months from across the dungeon…dissecting her every move, and made her wish for things she probably wasn’t ready to handle…him!

  But Mercy feared her attraction to Sir Justice, a.k.a. Judge Kellan Graham, was one-sided. Not once had he ever approached her…never even spoken to her. Yet every time she laid eyes on the man, her heart rate quickened and her panties flooded—like they were doing now. But that didn’t keep her from fantasizing about him. Each time she pulled the toys from her bedside table, he was there with her—in her mind and in her body—sinking deep inside her slippery pussy until she shattered beneath his imaginary touch.

  Unable to find her voice, Mercy stared at the sculpted planes of his handsome face…studied the texture of his full, inviting lips.

  He was dangerously sexy.

  Demand streaked through her like a meteorite crashing to earth.

  Her pussy plumped.

  Her tunnel clutched.

  Her clit pulsed with an intoxicating throb.

  But when the door violently rattled again, the sublime sexual thoughts consuming her instantly turned to panic. Mercy snapped her head toward the sound as she tried to wriggle from the grasp of her fantasy Dom. But Justice simply held on tighter.

  This was it.

  The end.

  Judge Kellan Graham, a.k.a. Sir Justice, was going to offer her up, like a sacrificial lamb, to his friend Kerr. Unable to process the overload of terror, Mercy’s brain shut down.

  The room began to swim.

  The sexy Dom’s face before her blurred and darkness closed in all around her.

  What. The. Fuck?

  “No!” Kellan barked.

  But even his harsh command couldn’t keep the sinfully sexy sub from fainting.

  He should have known when Symoné’s face turned a ghostly shade of white the girl was going down. He’d been too shocked to find her in his courtroom, and so fucking mesmerized by her dazzling aqua-colored eyes—well, until they rolled to the back of her head—that he damn near hadn’t caught her as she crumpled to the floor.

  He held her soft, warm body in his arms, feeling as if he’d just taken a lightning bolt to the chest. Any second now, he’d spontaneously combust.

  “Shit!”

  The door rattled once more.

  Ignoring the distraction, Kellan hoisted Symoné’s unconscious body into his arms. Even before he’d touched her, he’d been humming in arousal, but now…he was boiling.

  As he settled her against his chest, her purse slid off her shoulder and caught at the bend of her elbow. The bag swung in a wide arc and caught him square in the nuts. With a grunt, Kellan froze and sucked in a quick breath. Holding the air in his lungs, he cringed and waited for pain to twist his gut. He didn’t have to wait long. Air exploded from his lips, and he croaked out a curse. Clutching Symoné tight to his chest, Kellan doubled over.

  What the fuck is she carrying in that purse…bricks?

  Pain clawed through him. Kellan closed his eyes and tried to breathe as agony assaulted his balls, but his focus was ambushed with questions.

  What was Symoné doing in his courtroom, and why was she so frightened?

  Suddenly the puzzle pieces aligned.

  Kerr.

  Memories of the night Symoné came crashing into Kellan’s controlled and disciplined world, like a goddamn wrecking ball, flashed in his mind.

  It had started several months ago when Mika LaBrache, Owner of the BDSM Club Genesis, revoked Kerr’s contract and banned the asswipe for ignoring a sub’s safe word. Kellan and several other Doms received the honor of physically tossing Kerr’s ass to the curb. It was one of the best nights Kellan had ever had in the club.

  A few weeks later, Kerr called and invited Kellan to join the wannabe Dom’s new dungeon he’d opened named Control.

  When Kellan informed Mika of Kerr’s unwanted solicitation, shit went south, fast. Four members of Genesis infiltrated Club Control—or rather the seedy loft with shoddy play equipment—under the guise of wanting a new dungeon to call home. In reality, the four had gone to Kerr’s club to warn unsuspecting subs about his abusive reputation in the kink community. The prick had cuffed Symoné to the cross and proceeded to demonstrate his Dominant prowess by tearing the poor girl’s ass up with a leather paddle. When she began screaming her safe word, Kerr refused to relent. The four visitors, Max, Dylan, Nick, and Savannah, stepped in. They brought Symoné—who’d bravely filed assault charges against Kerr—and seven other subs back to Genesis that night.

  Kellan stared at the limp sub in his arms.

  “Today’s the hearing. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” he asked the still-unconscious woman.

  She had to be hiding from Kerr.

  Kellan glanced over his shoulder. Though moments ago he’d dismissed the rattling door, he suspected Kerr had been stalking her and attempting to change the outcome of his fate through intimidation. Kellan’s emotions were divided. He refused to leave Symoné passed out and alone, but he desperately wanted to satisfy his curiosity. If Kerr was out there, Kellan was ready to beat the ever-living fuck out of him.

  Still recovering from the shot to his crotch, Kellan slowly stood and stared down at the alluring wo
man in his arms. Drinking in her the soft contours of her face, he locked onto the lush bow of her lips. He ached to press his mouth to hers…listen to her purr as he surged inside and explored every nook and cranny…feast on the woman who’d haunted his dreams for three long, frustrating months.

  He’d spent too many years denying himself pleasure.

  No matter how hard he tried—and he’d tried mightily—Kellan couldn’t purge her from his system. Symoné possessed some kind of magnetic pull over him. Her beauty enthralled him—even more so in his arms—resistance was futile. Slanting in close to her mouth, he felt her moist breath flutter against his lips. He dipped his head and closed his eyes.

  What the fuck are you doing? Have you lost your damn mind? She’s unconscious! This isn’t consensual, asshole! Christ, why don’t you just lay her on the ground, yank her pants off, and fuck her while you’re at it.

  At his conscience’s scolding, Kellan jerked his head upright. Panic and irritation with himself made for an ugly cocktail. Even when she was passed out, he couldn’t resist the minx. He felt like she was trying to steal his soul, test his resolve, and rattle his control. Kellan had to be stronger, or he’d fold like a deck of cards. There was too much at stake for him to lose his fucking spine. Ever since he’d laid eyes on the sassy sub, she’d starting challenging his orderly world.

  Symoné was a complication he didn’t need. He was struggling enough.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. He couldn’t touch her the way he longed to, not now…not ever.

  A tremor of frustration rippled through him.

  Biting back a curse, he carried her to his private chambers and grudgingly laid her on the leather loveseat near his desk. His arms felt strangely empty, but Kellan dismissed the absurdity of what that meant and retrieved a bottle of water from the mini-fridge on the other side of the room.

  Symoné was still unconscious as he knelt beside her. Brushing a few errant strands of hair from her face, Kellan stared at her long, dark lashes resting against her porcelain flesh. Tears of terror stained her cheeks, making him want to find Kerr and break his skinny little neck once more. There’d be time later to deal with the douchebag. Right now this precious sub needed his help.

  “Symoné. It’s time to wake up, angel,” he whispered.

  Her plump, kissable lips taunted him, making his pulse race. Reaching out, he wanted to caress her face…lean in and kiss her awake, but he quickly pulled his hand away. If he touched her now, he’d never find the willpower to stop until he was balls deep inside her. Annoyed with his surging testosterone, he clenched his jaw. The sooner she woke up, the sooner he could escort her to her car and salvage his precarious control.

  “Come on, Symoné. You need to wake up.”

  She didn’t respond. Kellan began to worry that he’d have to call the EMTs and have her taken to the hospital.

  No way! If anyone’s taking her to a hospital, it’ll be me!

  “Symoné!” With a firm voice, he gently shook her shoulder.

  A tiny moan slid off her lips as her eyelids fluttered open.

  “There you are. Welcome back.” He forced a smile, hoping to reassure her and erase the confusion from her face.

  “Sir Justice? What are you…Where am I?”

  “You were hiding out in my courtroom, but you’re in my chambers now, safe and sound.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to sound so gruff and cold.

  Symoné wrinkled her brow and lowered her lids, but not before he saw rejection and sadness fill her eyes. He inwardly cursed himself for being such an ass. Biting his tongue to keep from upsetting her more, Kellan twisted the cap from the water bottle. He cupped the back of her neck and raised her head before placing the rim to her lips. When she wrapped her mouth around the bottle, a ridiculous pang of envy punched his gut. She tilted her chin when she’d had enough, the way the subs at Genesis often did while riding the clouds of endorphins. A potent rush of Dominance charged through him. Kellan wanted nothing more than to command this glorious sub’s pleasure and pain until the end of time.

  Focus, fucker!

  “Are you feeling better?”

  Symoné nodded. “Yes, thank you. You’re Judge Graham, right?”

  “I am.”

  “Now I understand why you couldn’t hear my case.”

  “Reed told you about that, did he?”

  Her nape was singeing his fucking palm making it hard as hell to carry on a polite conversation.

  Again she nodded and turned a nervous glance toward the door. “Is Kerr still out there looking for me?”

  “I don’t know. While you were passed out, I put two and two together. I didn’t want to leave you alone and go off hunting for the prick.”

  When he tipped the bottle to her lips again, she reached up with trembling hands and gripped the plastic. Kellan stood and stepped back. He watched her throat work as she swallowed the liquid, wishing instead of water she was guzzling down the seed churning in his balls.

  “What time is your hearing?” he asked. His voice came out raspy and low.

  “It’s…over,” she murmured. A grim expression lined her lips as she set the water on the floor. “Kerr’s foot loose and free. I lost.”

  “You mean Reed just walked away and left you to deal Kerr on your own?” Kellan could feel his blood pressure spiking.

  “No. He offered to walk me to my… Oh, crap.” Her eyes grew wide she and sat upright, wobbling slightly.

  “Easy. What’s wrong?”

  “I need my purse. I have to call Maple. She was coming to pick me up. Ugh. She’s probably outside driving around the building, pissed or worried that I haven’t come out yet.”

  Kellan plucked her combination leathal weapon and designer purse off the floor and placed it in her lap. After wiggling out of her coat, Symoné plucked out the device, looked at the screen, and groaned.

  Kellan didn’t want to imagine her making that same sound beneath him in a big, soft bed…but he did.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Yes…no.” She shook her head. “Maple’s car has a flat and she’s waiting for Triple A.”

  “Text her back and tell her you have a ride home.” Though his tone wasn’t as icy this time, he’d inadvertently pulled out his unrelenting Dom voice. But then, if the shoe fit…

  “I do?”

  “Yes. I’m taking you home.” Unfortunately, not home with me. Dammit.

  “You can’t,” she protested. Kellan arched his brows and leveled Symoné with a hard stare. “I-I mean…it’s…I-I’m sure it’s out of your way. I won’t inconvenience you like that, Sir. I’ll call Uber or catch a cab.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the kind. I’m taking you home and that’s final. Kerr might still be prowling the courthouse. I wont risk him finding you. God only knows what he plans to put you through next.”

  “He wants to kill me.” She blurted out the words as the color drained from her face.

  “Excuse me?”

  “He told me I wasn’t going to get away with humiliating him, and trust me, if looks could kill, I’d be dead already.”

  Her voice quivered and Kellan’s heart tripped double time. An internal possessive roar filled his ears.

  “Exactly why I’m taking you home.” He drew in a deep breath and slowly released it while tempering the urge to murder the bastard. “I don’t care how far out of the way it might be, I want you safe, Sym…What is your real name?”

  A light blush painted her cheeks as she stretched out her hand. “It’s Mercy…Mercy O’Connor.”

  He smiled and placed his hand in hers as a strange heat warmed his skin. The messy complications he’d been avoiding for months suddenly became even more real. Though he wasn’t ready to admit it, Kellan knew he was fucked.

  “Oh, my,” she gasped.

  Mercy’s eyes grew wide. She tried to pull her hand back, but he simply held on tight. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mercy O’Connor. I’m Kellan Graham, but you know that all
ready.”

  Her shy smile and darkening blush kicked him in the gut, but he couldn’t afford to let lust sidetrack him.

  “Before we leave. I need to gather some papers from my bench. You go ahead and lie back and relax…sip some water, I won’t be long.”

  Her compliant nod stroked his Dominance like a caress. Blood surged south as his cock lengthened and grew thick. He was glad as fuck his robe concealed his erection. Still, irritation chewed within. He flattened his lips and strode out the door.

  Sitting at his bench, surrounded by the soothing familiarity, Kellan shuffled papers, waiting for his cock to deflate. Angry voices from the hallway grabbed his attention. He hurried across the room and flipped the lock before stepping out to find Judge Dupree looking as if he wanted to bring his gavel down on a stringy blond-haired man who was snarling and cursing. The vulgar-talking prick didn’t even have to turn around. Kellan knew instantly it was Kerr.

  “What are you still doing here, Walker?” Kellan asked.

  Kerr spun around. His eyes grew wide before a cynical smile speared his lips. “So you’re a judge? I’ll be damned. Justice seems all the more fitting, now.”

  “Your trial was over long ago. You’ve got thirty seconds to get your ass out of the building and off government property, or I’ll have you tossed in a cell,” Kellan warned, looking at his watch. “Twenty-nine, twenty-eight.”

  “I’ll tell you, like I told this idiot,”—Kerr pointed to Dupree—“I ain’t leaving till I find someone.”

  “You’re not going to find her. I’ve already made sure of that. Leave,” Kellan barked. “Nineteen, eighteen…”

  “You can’t protect her forever.”

  “Is that a threat, Walker?” A nasty grin tugged Kellan’s lips.

  Kerr’s face turned red as he darted a glance at Dupree. “No. But I will find her.”

  Before Kellan could issue another warning, the maggot turned and ran away.

  “Friend of yours?” Dupree asked.