Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  “I do,” I seethe with a sudden rage. “I have a choice. I’m a twenty-four-year-old woman. I can come and go as I please.”

  His gruff snicker echoes throughout the room. “Bullshit, Kace.”

  I’m up and spewing my hundred-pound punches as I lash out, “I’m not going, asshole.”

  “Yes, you are,” he assures, ignoring me as I buzz around his muscular frame like a gnat. “We are spending Christmas together.”

  “No,” I hiss, understanding that the war the Raniero and Hope camps are embarking on will be brutal and savage. There will be bloodshed in our competition for the top spot. “You will go without me.”

  A belligerent little smirk ticks up from the corner of his mouth. I want to slap it off. He moves slowly to face me and, in the shadows, his eyes throw off sparks like a live electric wire hitting the water. “You are my wife. You will be coming with me,” he says with a monotone, uncaring attitude. “We are going to The Dollhouse to spend the holiday with our family.”

  “Amber and Jaid are not my family,” I sass, crossing my arms and grinding my jaw. “They are your fuck toys.” He stalks, but I do not move. I remain steady in my angered trance. “Practice sluts…”

  “Because you forced the issue, remember?”

  “So, you will listen to me in some regards, but not this one. Great!” I lift my hands and turn to pivot away when his hand latches around my arm. “I’m not going to witness this!”

  Seconds later, I’m pinned to the wall like a bug stuck with a pin. His hand covers my mouth as the zipper on his jeans flies down at lightning speed, and he thrusts hard inside of me. I blink, startled by how far he has come in such a short time, but I’m genuinely impressed and if I could give him a gold star, I would.

  Good boy. Pass the fucking test. Take what you want.

  Without resistance, I allow his claiming of me. I need to know he can do this as I’ve instructed—communicating by actions. Even fucking. His hand rises from my cheeks as his mouth smothers over me and our tongues entangle in a greedy, wanton kiss. His fearless bravado doesn’t stop there as he grips the scarf from my head and tosses it to the floor.

  Really, Raniero?

  Breaking the kiss, I scold, “You’re mean.”

  “I’m in love with you—not the fucking wig. It doesn’t matter, and neither do the scars or the happy pills.”

  “Those pills don’t make me happy,” I rebuke, not entirely sure whether we are friends or foes as his body stills.

  His forehead presses to mine as I stay trapped within his frame. “They may not make you happy, but they keep you breathing for one more day – one more lesson – because I’m not ready to let go.”

  I bravely ask, “Will you ever be ready?”

  “No, but the monster of your science experiment isn’t quite done yet.”

  “You’re right,” I concede, wrapping my legs tighter around his waist. “I have to make certain you can do this without me.”

  His hips rock as I remember every reason I chose him. It wasn’t like he was an easy target, but his need to harness the power between his thighs set him apart and made Sal far more appealing than anyone else. The common ground of our love of the fetish world, which neither of us could breathe without, brought us together and sealed his fate with me.

  “Now, tell me why you don’t want to witness what happens in New Orleans? What difference does it make?”

  Tears brim in my eyes as he drives us closer to the edge. “Because I don’t want to see you with them and him.”

  His look softens as his head falls to the side with a curious gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean—Dom is a hard limit for me. I don’t want to see you two sharing what I once was. If Amber and Jaid are present, I guarantee there will be a scene with Dom and you and them. I will be left out of that equation, and that is not something I can handle because he trained me just as much as Jack. I don’t want the reminder of who I used to be.”

  He looks up to the ceiling for an answer as he pins my arms against the wall. “Kaci, Kaci, Kace… Why didn’t you say this sooner? I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “Because the plans are made, and I didn’t know how I would feel, but now I do. I’m okay with whatever happens here between you and the sluts, but not there. The Dollhouse is one of my sacred spaces.”

  Dropping his thick arms around my body, Sal picks me up with his dick still buried deep inside of me as I sniffle against his chest. He feels good like home, and the comfort is fantastic for my psyche. “Baby,” he whispers, kissing my head. “You are always number one. If you don’t want the girls to go, that is fine.”

  “I need to say goodbye on my terms—to the place and the man. I know Dom won’t come here.”

  “I will get Amber a flight back for her own safety,” he mumbles as we crash onto the bed. “And you and I will go spend Christmas with Dom—alone.”

  I nod as our eyes meet. “And Raniero, pack my gear.”

  14. Widen the Scope

  Tuesday, December 21

  11 days before…

  Despite Kaci begging to take the bike, I manage to convince her that is a bad idea. With the chilly temps and her weakening condition, I think it’s a bad idea for her even to travel. After an hour of debate, we finally come to a place of peaceful resolution, but I’m still not happy.

  Always the negotiator, I agree to pull her car out of the barn on our property—formerly, Jack and Serene’s farm in Sugargrove, three and a half hours away. The spruced-up black with pink accents Toyota FJ Cruiser has been there since late spring as she no longer wanted to risk driving.

  The day is quickly passing, and it’s seven when Jaid drops me off at the gate. She is going to spend the holiday with her family in Florida. Delarte Cristos has a spread on the beach that I have heard is incredible. “Call me when you get there.”

  “Duh,” she says with a smile. “You call me if you need me.”

  “Work on your brother and kiss your sister.”

  She giggles, grabbing my hand as I go to exit the car. “I’m not kissing my sister like you would.”

  “Stay,” I request, bounding out and around to her side. She cranks down the window and smiles as her long, dirty blonde hair blows in the chilly breeze. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

  “Aww, shucks, Raniero,” she snips, rubbing my arm. “You’d think you got a boner for me.”

  “I do have a boner for you, but that is beside the point.” I pull a smoke from the pack and her hands shield the wind from the flame of the lighter. “Too sweet.”

  “Sweet and deadly,” she corrects with a flick of her brow.

  “Are you sure you are going to be okay driving all the way?”

  “Oh, my fucking God! First Amber, then Jack, and Georgia! Now you!” She shakes her head as I cannot get enough of the energetic glow in her face. “I will be fine. I’m a big girl. I will be back before New Year’s.”

  “Promise?”

  “I swear to you,” she whispers in a serious tone as she lifts her pinky. “I will be back. You come back, too.”

  A gust of wind blows across the field as I lift the hood on my jacket. “Be careful. A lot of shit is going on, and I don’t want to have to go on a murderous rampage.”

  “You would too, wouldn’t you?”

  “You have no idea,” I assure as she pulls the lever on the door, and I take a step back. She moves quickly and wraps her arms around me. She is healthy and stable and whole. Almost unbreakable.

  Her slender fingers touch my cheek. “Just remember to do you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean—no one else can be you—so do you better than anyone else. And don’t take any shit from Dom or Kaci.”

  “Does that mean I have to take shit from you?”

  She nods with a gloat. “Yep! All my shit and more.”

  I stomp out the cigarette butt, pick her up in my arms, and spin her round and round. She laughs as we soar past the present.
“I love you,” I confess my truth. “Don’t go getting yourself hurt.”

  Her blue eyes skim over my face as she leans in and passionately kisses me. The intensity of her lips and tongue is enough to cause the rise in my jeans to press against her. “There are so many reasons I don’t want this with you.”

  “And so many reasons you do,” I dangerously flirt as we are alone in the middle of nowhere. Our mouths crash into one another again, and my hands drop to her perfect ass—the ass I dream of whipping. Between our kisses, I breathe, “You are my fucking drug.”

  “Don’t forget me,” she says as I set her on her feet. Her hand rubs over my erection, covered in the denim. With a suggestive wink, she kisses my cheek and whispers, “Call me later.”

  “Jaid…” I mumble, saying her name and holding tight to her hand as I play up the seductive eyes and wine-stained pout. “Don’t go yet…”

  “Luke,” she warns, shaking her finger at me. “I’ll be back. You finish this up. Then we figure out whatever this thing is going on between us is.”

  “I think you know,” I prod, inching forward. “And you don’t want to admit it.”

  “What?” Her eyes snag mine as I note the lucent build-up of tears, threatening to spill over. “That I have feelings for my ex’s husband? Or saying I love you is more than just friends or partners or expressing mutual respect and adoration for one another? Which version will help you get through this?”

  “The version where you tell me we can work this out…”

  “She didn’t give you to me. She gave you to Amber, and that says a lot about how she truly feels. If you haven’t figured that out yet, I can’t help you.”

  “You don’t think I know?” I bridge the gap between us and close my arms around her athletic physique. With the strength of a gymnast and the poise of a ballerina, Jaid is like no other girl I have ever known. “She had zero respect for Amber and chose her to be the practice slut…”

  Her whimper paralyzes my mind as I ascertain the pieces of our skewed and misaligned puzzle. “… But for who?”

  I don’t have to say it; I already know as does she. I have been groomed to take on Iris Kettles. Everything Kaci has done points toward achieving that rare goal. Iris is the rare prize possession, the unicorn with feathered wings and fairies dusting her path. But none of that means anything as long as she is married to Chance Ballister.

  “Jaid…”

  “Don’t, Sal,” she remarks, fleeing from my arms and returning to the door of the Scout. She pauses, and I pray she turns back. I desperately need her to turn around and want me because I’m just another guy. In her eyes, I’m not undercover operative Sal Raniero, or the covert Lucien Tolan. I’m Lucas. A twenty-one-year-old lost soul looking for redemption, much like she is. Her hair flies around her as she looks back and whispers, “I gotta go.”

  Despite how I know this girl is a big fat no-no, I shake the thought and press my body against hers. I could drop her pants and be inside of her in seconds. Her delicious warmth would melt the absolute freezing point of my heart because even I could discern the differences between Jaid and Amber. The latter was the mistress of the up-and-coming mafioso prince and the former—well, Agent Jaid Chambers, held nothing but trouble.

  “Ghost,” I growl.

  “It’s like calling a safeword, Sal,” she harshly reprimands but makes no moves to get away from me. “You can’t just do that.”

  I nuzzle in closer, smelling the aroma of her peach blossom shampoo. “And what if I am calling a safe…”

  “Then you are calling it with the wrong girl because I cannot be her and she cannot be me,” she mutters as my hands traverse up her belly and hold the fullness of her clothed breasts in my hands. Her fingers brace against my knuckles. She teeters back into my chest, but her words do not match her actions. “We cannot do this. There is too much at stake. The risk outweighs the reward.”

  My lips suckle the flesh of her neck, and I mumble, “What if you are wrong?”

  “We both know I’m not,” she moans, dropping her hand away and slipping it between us. She rubs against my cock in our dangerous game of desire. With the grey clouds looming overhead and threatening to spill, we embrace this love we share without a perimeter of barbed wire, waiting to take us out as we cross over the border from friends to something unexplained. Something more. “You know I want you…”

  Grinding with insatiable lust, we feast in the fleeting moment of our freedom. We are not agents or children of sick, evil men. We are lost souls, uniting with a solid, purposeful love as we commiserate in the misery of our present. We cannot change it. We cannot abandon it. We cannot even identify this—but it exists—this strange, intimate relationship between my wife’s former lover and me.

  “You need to go,” she breathily mumbles as her arm arches up and grasps around the back of my neck. “I need to go.”

  “I need you to come,” I declare with a purpose as I spin her around fast in my arms and push her down into the seat. My savage hands scatter over her flesh. I own it; she is mine for the taking. Her fingers twist and lock in my hair as I thrash her shirt up and lick the tender edge of her waist. The line we must not cross. Danger exists beyond this point. Enter at your own risk. The off-limits no-fly zone.

  Fuck it.

  With a determined jerk, I flop my hood off and twist my ball cap around as I undo her pants and slide them down. “Peaches and…” I perk a brow flirtatiously. “Cream.”

  “Sal… We shouldn’t be doing this,” she urges, attempting to curtail my plans. With the hint of her scent on my nose, there is no stopping this as I dart my tongue against her clit. “Oh God! Yes!” Her moans reverb through the cab as my wetness and hers tango until the sweetness hits my tongue. “Fuck yes!”

  From between her thighs, I peer up to see the sparkle of dewy sweat against her skin. “God damn, you are so fucking gorgeous when you come…”

  “Babe…I love you so much,” she finally admits without skirting the issue. “I love you, Sal.”

  Jetting up, she makes haste with the restraints of my belt and jeans. The puffs of her lips hit my cock. The contrast between the warmth of her succulent mouth and the fresh air is striking. Her lips sheath over me as I stand between the door and the cab with my beloved partner on her knees giving me a blow job from heaven above. I accept her refusal for making love and even understand it—because the pain of parting would blur our increasingly growing blind spot. Mistakes would happen, and one or both of us would end up dead.

  I moan and grunt between the bucking of my hips to meet her eager opening. Her fingers clenched into my ass cheeks, begging for more and encouraging my expulsion. We are determined in our mission as we bare our souls and shed the armor of reality and skyrocket to a place where only she and I exist on our island amidst the cradling of stars. And then, I come.

  She swallows the contents of my sin, licking her lips, and clasping her hand around me. Her refusal to release my shaft conveys the clear message of her feelings. She doesn’t want to depart, but we both have a job to do.

  I help her up off the ground as we say our goodbyes with needy tongues and prying hands. It hurts both of us. The tears spring forth from her eyes, and the aching look is too much for me to handle. “Be safe,” I growl against her hair. “See you soon.”

  “Call me,” she pleads, almost begging. It’s odd for Jaid to be so dependent even with me. “I’ll send a text when I arrive.”

  Lifting my hand, I spread my fingers, and she does the same before driving away. I wanted to leave for Nola early, but Kaci doesn’t do anything before noon. Hopefully, my hour-long romp with Jaid doesn’t throw any red flags. I flip my hood up as I stride closer to the red wooden barn with rusting tin roof.

  Formerly, Serene owned the whole property, and she used the space for feed storage. When she subdivided the property, giving part of it to Jack Kerris, the barn ended up on his half. As an engagement gift, they gave Kaci and I the spot for our house which now sits hal
f constructed.

  I try to ignore the house as I pass by, but it’s hard with thoughts of my girls—Kaci, Jaid, Amber, and Iris on my mind. I envision the memories we would have made, and the holidays we would have shared. Now that I know there is a little blonde tot in the picture, I cannot resist deciding where the swing set would go. I know it will never happen. I will never have a happy kinky family on the farm. And the dampness in my eyes is nothing but the cold, bitter wind of the morning.

  I lie to myself because it’s easier than admitting how much it all hurts.

  The loss of my beautiful bride – not only concerning her death but watching her disintegrate into someone she isn’t – is heartbreaking enough on its own. Add in the dismal outcome of a horrendous diagnosis, and I might as well be drowning in a whiskey barrel in the barn.

  I cannot win—any of them.

  In fact, I may lose—all of them.

  With a smoke perched between my lips, I swing open the rickety doors and see the canvas covered dream car belonging to my wife. This will be her last trip I fear, and I need to bend and contort and sway to her every whim. Making my way around the vehicle, I unlatch the straps, holding the canvas as I stretch and warm up my mind to the notions of molding myself to fit her agenda. I’ve been doing it for a long time, but the more Dominant I become, the less squishy I’m willing to be.

  “Let’s see what you got, girl,” I mutter, plopping into the seat and turning the key. Nothing. I sigh and roll my eyes as I lean my head against the steering wheel. “We do not have time for this.”

  “Battery is unhooked,” Jack informs, gripping the top of the door frame. “She runs fine. I took her out a couple of weeks ago when Kaci mentioned wanting to go for a ride. I had the oil changed and tires checked. She’ll get you down there.”

  I pop the hood and cock my body to exit the car when Jack stands in front of me blocking my way. “What?”

  “What what?”