Choosing Rena (20 page)

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 questing
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.

Digging her nails into his shoulders
it was all she could to hang on.
“Oh…my…fucking…god…please…Sir….I’m…gonna…please…let…me…” She knew
she was babbling but could’ve cared less.

“Come!” His demand broke the last bit
of her restraint and she came, and came, and came until the front
of his jeans was soaked with her release. She screamed, uncaring of
the neighbors, her entire world focused on the spot between her
thighs.

She was just coming down when Jackson
groaned under her, his body locking in place as he exploded inside
of her, his face a twisted grimace of pleasure. His chest heaved as
he bounced her up and down once, twice, and finally three times as
he spent inside of her. When it was over, it was all she could do
but cling to him as they sank to the floor between the couch and
coffee table, their bodies still joined.

Chapter
Nineteen

Rena was vastly aware of
the hand Jackson had placed on her back as he guided her through
the early evening crowd at
Pínaka ti̱s
Mi̱téras
. It had been some time since she’d
been to Gabriel’s restaurant, so she’d been looking forward to the
visit since Jackson suggested it earlier. The fact that she was
combining her desire for good traditional Greek food with business
mattered little, although Jackson’s presence at her side sent
tingles of pleasure through her.
It
wouldn’t take much to get used to having him at my side.