Dom Wars: Round Two Page 2

  The compliment brought joy and I let my smile rip. “Aww baby, you’re too sweet.” I spanked his butt then held his shoulders and hopped up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He caught me and held my butt with his hands, making me blush.

  “Perfect, love.” His fingers pressed into my ass and he tossed a sexy look over his shoulder that made my stomach flip.

  “I don’t get it. How do we know who wins this? I mean what’s the competition to know who wins the right to Dom in the… next phase?”

  Ol’ Girl gave that giggle, the one that spelled how dense I was. “If you manage to collect the ten flags at the top, you win the right to Dom next.”

  “Next as in…”

  “As in the bedroom. For the night challenge.” She bounced her perfectly sculpted brows.

  Shit I needed to win that. I did not need to have Lucian Dom me. God help me sweet Jesus. I was losing my soul in this goddamn game. My soul and my mind. And my body. He was slowly taking it all and making me into something… something entirely different.

  “Ready, love?”

  “Ready.”

  ****

  “Be careful!” Tara cried.

  I stopped climbing and sighed. “Love? Yell in my ear one more time and I’ll drop you off of this mountain.”

  “Sorry, I’m trying to help.”

  “Then quit strangling me.”

  Two more steps and she blasted my ear with, “Are you tired? Just stop for a second and rest.”

  “We’re being timed, love. Bad enough we’re likely the only two who didn’t get the questions right.”

  “Well it’s not my fault! Her whole body? Who says that?”

  “I do.” A stray branch dug into my kneecap, nearly ending the race and our lives.

  “I see that,” Tara went on, oblivious. “And I lied about my answer, for your information.”

  Good grief. “No you didn’t.”

  She choked on her annoyance. “Yes. I did. I don’t care about a man’s butt.”

  “Really.”

  “Really.”

  “So what is the real answer?” I paused, catching my breath and waiting.

  “I’m not telling.”

  She dug her pointy heels into my upper thighs for emphasis. “Stop screeching in my ear like a fucking banshee.” I started climbing again. “I think I know exactly what body part you like. You like a big thick cock.”

  “Oh yes, yes, I love that, sure I do.”

  “Say it. Cock.”

  “No!” More heel jabbing.

  I laughed. “You’re such a tender-minded princess. I can’t wait to punish you for being bad today.”

  “What? Bad! Because I got the answer wrong?”

  I laughed. “No, because you’re disrespectful, and you’re very, very bad at submitting. And it’s time I help you with that.”

  Words choked up in her throat but she finally got them out. “Not if I win.”

  My cock throbbed with the anticipation. “Right.” I continued to climb until searing pain seized my calf and nearly brought me down. “Jesus Christ!”

  “What?” She squirmed in the carrying harness they’d strapped to my back.

  “Cramp.” I gritted my teeth and shifted, forcing my calf muscle to stretch slow and steady.

  “Oh no! Where?” She moved again, leaning to my bad side nearly taking us down, while her arms tightened around my neck.

  “Stop choking me!” I loosened her grip so I could breathe.

  “Oh! Sorry. You’re almost there, you only have like…”

  “I can see, love. Fuck. Ugh.” I concentrated on pulling the spasm out of my calf muscle. All Tara’s wiggling about had shifted the carrying harness, causing a shoulder strap to cut into my collar bone.

  “Guess your Wheaties are running out?”

  “Yes, and your feathers are weighing a ton.” I moved on as she gave a little snorting laugh that made me smile, and somehow lightened the load.

  We finally made it to the top where the team of experts and Tara’s favorite blonde waited. While they strapped us into climbing gear and anchored us to safety lines, I stared at the video monitor a technician was using to guide what looked like a radio-controlled helicopter with a camera attached. He moved the helicopter below the edge of the cliff, and the monitor filled with a view of crumbling rock. Slowly, a metal pole appeared in the frame, embedded in the stone. The camera moved out to reveal a small black flag fluttering madly from a hook at the end. For a split second, the flag stilled, just long enough for me to make out the words DOM Wars in white print.

  The blonde took up a position well back from the edge of the cliff, a second tech standing opposite her with a small video camera. “Good afternoon, DOM Wars viewers! Today’s challenge is in a slightly different format than you’re accustomed to, in part because it’s being streamed to you live. Thus far, both our contestants, and you, have been given very little information about the reasons behind the challenges. Today, that changes.” She paused for the tech to make some adjustments. “Let’s check in with Lucian and Tara as they prepare to face the newest phase in DOM Wars.”

  Her customary stilettos had been replaced by a pair of custom western boots, while painted-on jeans and a fitted leather vest took over for the usual business attire. With the cameraman following, she strode the few feet to where Tara and I were finishing up.

  “Ready for the details?”

  No, but we nodded anyway.

  “Tara, you are going to dangle off the edge of that cliff, while you trust Lucian to hold you. Ten flags are already there, some more difficult to reach than others. You will retrieve as many as you can. If you get them all, you win the right to Dom. But don’t worry, each flag you get is worth points, so each one counts for something even if you don’t win the round. Any flags you drop before you’re hauled back up here won’t count. Questions?”

  Tara nodded, and I really wanted to shake her, but it was too late to warn her not to ask anything. “What does this have to do with being a Dom?”

  The announcer’s brow lifted a little. “In the coming weeks, both you and our viewers will grow to deeper understanding. For now, suffice to say, any relationship, whether vanilla, D/s, platonic friendship, coworkers, or whatever, needs trust to be successful. The true Dom is an expert at both instilling trust in others, and in assessing whether others are worthy of trust. Our challenges are designed to show that process from both points of view.”

  To her credit, Tara listened carefully, obviously searching for some advantage, or even just rhyme or reason in the explanation.

  “Okay, let’s do this.” The lady stepped back. “Good luck to you both.”

  The mountaineering experts that had prepared us came forward again and led us to the edge. Over the next five minutes, they gave us a crash course in exactly what we needed to do. Apparently deciding we were as ready as they could get us, they snapped our riggings into a series of bolts anchored deep in the rock under our feet, wished us luck and stepped back.

  “Jesus, this is unfair. Why did you have to run your mouth this morning and mess me up?” Tara’s words and tone were filled with dread and a dash of barely controlled panic.

  I looked out over the ledge and fear pushed at my nerves. Twenty feet below, another narrow ledge strewn with jagged rocks reminded me of the crumbling, weathered stone I’d seen on the monitor. Below that, the cliff fell away for hundreds of feet, with death waiting and ready every inch of the way. My confidence in the material we were supposed to be anchored to for safety drained away. We were too fucking high. I looked at the ropes. They seemed sturdy but… this was Tara hanging over a fucking cliff. God, what if something happened and she fell? What if a carabiner broke? A freak accident?

  Logically, I knew they’d doubled and tripled every conceivable safety precaution, but accidents were a fact of life. The breeze that had kept us comfortable earlier gave a sudden gust, whipping Tara’s hair free of her pony-tail and across her face. Grumbling, she re-secured it
.

  Finally, the announcer gave us a two minute warning. I yanked hard on all the fittings at every point and double-checked that buckles were securely and completely fastened, and clips were closed, not caring that I looked like a mother hen. I wasn’t taking any chances.

  The countdown ended. Time to start. “Okay love, I’ll be back here and you’ll lean over—”

  “I heard her! I know what to do, shush!” She shook her hands and breathed a few times. “Keep the line very tight! Please!”

  “I got you baby. Line’s staying tight.” Fear flooded me and my muscles trembled with it. Shit. “Try to hurry and get it done.”

  “I can’t hurry!” Exasperated, she inched next to the ledge. “Shit. It’s so far, I’m going to have to lean Lucian!”

  “I got you.” No point in telling her that was the whole point. I concentrated on the rope in my hands.

  “Hold me tight! I have to lean. Fuck, I have to lean. Oh God! Shit.” The panic in her voice made me want to pull her back from that drop and carry her back down the mountain and keep her safe.

  “Just lean baby and I’ll slowly let you go forward, okay?”

  “Oh God.”

  “Are you leaning?” Damn it, why wouldn’t they just let her rappel to reach the flags? Why lean face first?

  “I think. I think.”

  “I’m going to let some slack very slowly into the rope.”

  “Slowly!” she screamed. “Lucian, I’m scared.”

  Her fear fucking pummeled me. “I have you!” I yelled back firmly.

  “Don’t fuss at me, don’t fuss at me,” she whimpered.

  “I’m not fussing at you baby, I’m sorry. You’re doing fucking great. Can you reach it yet?”

  She stretched. “Not yet. Oh God.”

  “How much further, one foot?”

  “Yes, maybe. Maybe two?” She whimpered again, reaching for the damn flag.

  “Okay, little bit more, love.”

  “Okay, okay, I can almost reach it!” Triumph filled her voice. “I got it! Pull me up!” Her cries of nervous victory echoed off the rocks surrounding us as I pulled her up

  She ran and wrapped her arms around me tight. The flags were suddenly too incredibly stupid to repeat the insanity. “You can quit baby, you don’t have to get anymore.” I cradled her head to my chest grateful for her pulse fluttering against my palm where it pressed on her neck.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine.” She nodded and pushed away, going back to the edge. “We can do this. I’m ready. I’m ready, lean me.”

  I got back in place and repeated the process. She had to lean a little further, but it was okay. That first success had given her confidence to do whatever needed done. We did it again. And again. She was doing so well, beaming with each victory. But the rationalist in me only became more afraid. Every success put us that much closer to that one in a million chance of failing.

  On the seventh flag, just as her fingers brushed against the plastic, my fucking foot slid on the loose gravel, throwing me off balance.

  Tara jolted forward several inches. “Lucian!” Terror laced her scream and tore my guts.

  “Fuck, baby!” I pulled her up, not caring about gentle, and hurried to wrap her in my arms. “I’m so sorry, my foot slipped.”

  Every part of her body trembled. “I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m so sorry, I just can’t.”

  “Okay, okay.” I glared at the blonde announcer and gave her a thumbs down, signaling we were done, then went back to comforting Tara. “You were fucking amazing, baby! You got seven flags.”

  “I got seven?” A broad grin spread across her face, even while tears of horror spilled over her lower lashes. “I did, I got seven!”

  I held her closer, stroking her head. “I’m so proud of you, you’re my angel.” I turned her face up and planted my lips firmly on hers, desperate to kiss away her fears.

  Chapter Three

  Back in our mini-dungeon, I watched Lucian from the kitchen table. Silent Lucian. Far too quiet since we were brought back from the challenge. Take your shower while I cook. Oh, I’d showered well. In my head, I prayed he would go easy on me, while my body trembled with other prayers I didn’t want to even contemplate.

  The food smelled amazing, onions and beef making my mouth water. Too bad my stomach was in so many knots, eating would be impossible. Lucian wearing nothing but black BVDs didn’t help at all. The sight of him was hard to ignore.

  He was Dom tonight, but he was mixing the signals, confusing me. Cooking. Being gentle. Sweet. What did it all mean? Maybe he felt bad about screwing up the last challenge with that foot slip. Maybe he planned to let me off the hook. I could use a break.

  My stomach tensed as he came to the table with a plate of food. And sat with it. Across from me. I waited to see what he had in mind. He began cutting the steak. Had I been way off base? Was he pissed at me for something and now would punish me with no food? Anger began to slowly burn up my spine at just the thought.

  He reached across the small table with the forkful of steak. He was feeding me? Confusion chased away my anger as I looked at the food, suddenly sure I couldn’t eat. “I’m… not that hungry.”

  “You haven’t eaten since breakfast, love.”

  The tenderness in his voice held something else. An edge of… something. “Near death experiences have a way of stealing my appetite.”

  He stared at me for several seconds.

  What was going through that mind of his? Nerves forced me to speak, to apologize. “Sorry. Maybe… I’ll feel hungry later?”

  He put the bite slowly in his mouth, keeping his pretty blue eyes focused directly on me. The beginnings of a beard shadowed his face and the rugged look seemed to grind against my female parts. He chewed slowly, staring at me and I was suddenly caught. Caught in his silent trap of mind-blowing sex appeal.

  I had to watch him chew, had to watch his mouth. God his lips. Part of me realized he knew exactly what he was doing, deliberately calculating his effect on me and using it, and yet I couldn’t stop it from being done to me. Could he seduce my body and mind with something as simple as eating? Yes. Yes he certainly could. And was.

  The tip of his tongue swept over his lower lip, making my stomach flip. The slight shine there brought my appetite slamming in, but not for food.

  Dear God, help me, I was in trouble. Everything about the way he looked, the way he moved and didn’t move, spelled trouble in all caps. Literally. Because I’d finally made out that unfamiliar thing in his mood. It was definitely the calm before the storm. Like aftercare before he ever began. The air around him was filled with you’ve been so bad, love. And I’m going to tear through you like a tragic storm on a still morning.

  He slid the plate away, another deliberate act. Calm. Calculated. “You know what’s coming.”

  My clit literally throbbed with those all-knowing hot words.

  “You can start with thanking me.”

  I stared at him, speechless, trying to feel something besides the crippling need to be touched by him. Thank him? I needed to thank him? My mind said I could be angry with that, should be even. I stared like a dumb lamb, fumbling with the matches to light that little stick of angry dynamite. But everything was too wet. Drenched.

  He stood and my eyes held tight to him. He held his hand out and I took it without even thinking. And then he led and I followed. All so strange, it was like a dream.

  “I’m going to be nice and let you choose. From that shelf.”

  I looked at the shelf he pointed to, the one holding a selection of dildos. A bolt of heat speared me. Followed hard with the realization that the ones on that shelf were all double, each with a smaller one attached. Dear God. Fear finally kicked in and raced to catch up. I shook my head a little.

  “Tara.”

  I closed my eyes at the warning in his voice. So many warnings. The one carrying the most weight in my mind wasn’t how badly we needed the points to win. It was how badly he needed to do this. H
ad to. But I couldn’t choose. I couldn’t. “Please.” Pick for me, I can’t. That’s what needed saying.

  His face was suddenly before me as I looked at him, gentle hands on either side of my head, tender lips on mine. “Fuck, love. Don’t look at me that way. Your fear is killing me.” Hot breath melted me, so full of agony and need. “I want so badly to crush it. Let me. Let me inside of you.”

  My answer came in helpless whimpers and I could only hope he understood it. Do what you need, I wanted to say, scream, anything. But it was his need I was answering. God, it was so pure and perfect and, Jesus, hot. But my body refused to hook up to my mind. It was trapped in two different worlds, standing there helpless at a surreal crossroads set on fire by Lucian Bane.

  The flames licked hot along my mind and body. Surrender. Surrender. I wanted to give in to his… whatever it was, whatever he was. He was a thousand suns in my eyes, I couldn’t see anything but his blinding light, couldn’t feel anything except his scorching heat.

  I was dying a strange death. And terrified. It was that death I didn’t want but needed. I could feel it. I longed for it, craved it, loathed it, abhorred it, ran from it, Jesus Christ.

  He lifted me in his arms and I clung to him. Buried my face in his neck. Clenched my eyes against the raging need, the fear. I continued to hide when he laid me down. He restrained me with silk ties. My arms first. Softly. Slowly. Then my ankles.

  I didn’t fight him. Not once. I didn’t resist. Not even when he stretched my legs so very wide. Not even when soft silk covered my eyes.

  “I’m going to adore you, love.” His whisper stirred my hair and tickled my ear to send a combination of chills and sparks darting over my skin. “Every bit of you. With all my being. With all my might.”

  He began that contract at my lips. Tasting them with nibbling reverence until I opened in desperate hunger, my breath fighting to keep up with the emotion he provoked. His fingers glided along my out-stretched arms, his naked body skimming mine. The whisper of reckless passion, coming hard and fast on the horizon.

  His lips slid to my chin, then slowly along my jaw. He moved his body so that the hot length of his cock stroked along my inner thigh. At my neck, he licked with a deep moan of hunger. I answered him with my own.