Chapter 6

He says he’s not sweet, but I’ve never been treated with such thoughtful care. If he isn’t sweet, I’m perfectly happy with whatever brand of saccharine he is.

We walk out of the restaurant and through the town center to a manicured park with big, well cared for trees. “How do you know this place so well?”

“I ride around a lot to clear my head.” He guides me to a couple of Adirondack chairs tucked behind a giant tree facing west as the sun kisses the horizon. Drak sits and pulls me down onto his lap, his big shoulder and wide chest cradling my back as he uses his thick fingers to pull my legs up and over the armrest.

I giggle. “I’m too big to be manhandled like this.”

He slides his hand over my cheek and turns my face to his. “Listen up, babydoll, because I’m only going to say this once. This self-deprecating shit isn’t going to fly with me. You are a knockout—sexy as the devil herself—and you fit my hands and my bike perfectly. I don’t want to hear negative talk about your body anymore. Understood?”

I frown, unsure how to answer that bold command. I have twenty-three years of flagellating self-talk experience and I doubt I can turn it off just like that.

Drak continues. “I thought you knew how beautiful you are. You walked into the clubhouse yesterday with the confidence of a goddess.”

Biting my lip, I stare down at the patches on his leather vest. SGT at Arms. Three military stripes. An American flag. I’m sure they all have meaning, just like the leather vest itself, but I don’t understand the ins and outs of being in a club. Hell, I’ve never belonged to a church, much less an organization. The closest I got was one season on the wrestling squad when we didn’t have enough people to compete regionally. “I do great in crowds. I know what people see from far away—big red hair, great tits, and a round ass—and I know how to dress and play up my curves. But I also know what they’re thinking when I get up close.”

“What do you think they are thinking?”

“She’s too much. Too big. Too loud. Too mouthy.” I shake my head, and he tightens his fingers on my jaw to keep me from looking away. “Just too much.”

“You’re not too much for anyone worth your time and energy. If anyone has said or made you feel otherwise, they weren’t worthy. They try to diminish your light to make themselves feel better. Their lack is not your problem. Understood?”

“Have I told you that you’re bossy?” I lean into his chest and rest my head on his shoulder as a warm, loving light blooms in my chest. Even though I’ve said something similar to myself time and time again, I never thought someone other than Ma would say those words to me.

“Yes, but you like it.” He gives me a light slap against the meaty part of my lower hip and flexes his fingers, dragging his short fingernails against the denim while causing vibrations between my thighs.

Good god! How did he do that?

“You said we’d talk about your not-so-sweet nature after dinner,” I probe, wanting to rip into what I think he’s hinting at: a heavy-handed approach of the BDSM variety. I’ve never been with someone who identified as a Dominant, but I read books and follow enough YouTube channels to understand the basics. After years of analysis, I’m confident I have submissive desires. To be protected and possessed, claimed and controlled—the very idea gets my juices flowing.

The question is, are my desires kinky enough to satisfy a truly dominant man? I’m not confident they are. Let’s be honest, I’m far from subdued, but the submissives I follow online don’t seem all that meek or mild themselves. I guess that’s the part that confuses me. Am I too much to be a worthy submissive to claim?

Drak takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, tilting my chin up to look him in the eye. “I had a very chaotic childhood, babydoll. Most of us, the ones that made it to eighteen in one piece, joined the military. I found the discipline more comforting than I expected and as I rose in rank, I quickly learned I craved control. Control over my environment and relationships. Even moving and deploying constantly was comforting because there was a routine within the chaos. Then I learned about power exchange and Dom-sub dynamics. One taste and I was hooked. No relationship ever felt complete without that added element and it’s very hard to find a woman who craves the same kind of play I do.”

“What kind of play?”

He grins but doesn’t answer me.

“Are we talking bondage?”

Drak arches his brow as an answer.

“Spankings?”

“Keep going.” He flexes his finger against my hip again.

“Ummm, honestly, that’s all I know.” I bite my lip.

“It’s a start. How do you feel about those things?”

“I’ve never done them, not really, but I’ve always been interested.”

“Interested? Is that code for turned on by the idea?”

“When I read about it, it sounds hot.” I frown as a thought occurs to me. “Do you not have normal sex?”

He laughs. “Normal sex? Are we talking missionary, lights off, under the covers, five pumps and I’m done, silent as a church mouse sex? If so, then no. That doesn’t turn me on.”

I roll my eyes, a light blush hitting my cheeks. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“I don’t have to have you tressed up in ropes to get a hard on, babydoll. Wiggle your ass a bit and you’ll find that I’m hard right now.”

“You are?” The question comes out breathless as I stiffen in his arms. I thought I was sitting on his phone or wallet or something large and hard, but didn’t want to call attention to it. Is that all him?

“I’ve been hard since the moment you climbed your sexy ass out of Karden’s truck yesterday.”

“That must be painful.” I place my hand against his chest and slide it down towards his belt, but he catches it and moves it into my lap while shaking his head.

“Part of my need for control is dictating when, where, and how you touch me.”

“Does that mean I’m never allowed to touch you?”

“I wouldn’t say never.” He traces his thumb over my bottom lip—once again with a gentleness he says he doesn’t possess. “I want to try something. Put your hands in your lap, fingers between your thighs.”

I do as he says without question, my eyes glued to his.

“Good girl.” Drak brings his other hand up and frames my face, bringing his mouth centimeters from mine. “Keep them there.”

The first brush of his lips is soft and tender—damn near chaste—but when he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of my mouth, I moan my need for more and he answers with a possessiveness I feel in my toes. Fingers tighten around my head, pulling me forward, his tongue plunging in to devour me. It kills me to not touch him, but I’m afraid if I fail this test—and believe me, this feels like a test—he’ll stop everything.

“Mmmm,” Drak growls as he pulls back. “Fucking delicious.”

“What is?” I whisper, my brain in a lusty haze.

“You, babydoll. Your lips taste like strawberries.” His lids are half-closed, as if he too feels drunk from our kiss.

“I want more.”

“Yeah, I can tell by the way you’re squirming in my lap.”

He’s right. I’m practically rubbing my thighs together, seeking that perfect friction to get myself going. If my jeans weren’t so tight, I’d be sliding my hand inside my panties to rub my clit. I haven’t been this worked up in a long time. “Do you not want more?”

Drak pulls my jaw down and swipes his fingertip across my bottom lip, smearing lip gloss and saliva across my cheek. “Yes, I do.”

“Maybe we should get a hotel?” I tentatively stick my tongue out, swirling his fingers and sucking them into my mouth. Or maybe he shoves them in, tempting and teasing me with things to come. Either way, I’m making him promises I want to keep as soon as possible.

“Fuck me.” He pulls his fingers out and grips the back of my neck, pulling me forward for another scorching, panty-melting, breathtaking kiss. I lose all self-control, my fingers gripping his leather vest as I fumble to change positions and straddle his lap without breaking contact.

Just as I feared, Drak grabs my hands, pulls them off his vest, and stops kissing me. He shakes his head slowly, tsking under his breath. “Bad girl. You’ll have to be punished for that.”

“What’s the punishment?” I’ll take it now if it gets me what I want.

He chuckles. “We’ll talk about it during the week. I assume you work at Ma’s Diner?”

I nod. “Early Monday through Thursday, but we’re closed Friday, Saturday and Sunday.”

He grins like a boy presented with a Christmas present. “Three-day weekend. That might give me enough time to do the things I want to do to you.”

“Do I get a say in what you do to me?”

His face turns serious. “Always. I’ll do nothing you don’t want me to do. We’ll talk about everything beforehand, every time, until we both know you are one hundred percent on board with it. This doesn’t work without clear and constant communication, Missy. Understood?”

“Yes.”

Blowing out a breath and reaching underneath me to adjust his cock—oh god, that is all him—Drak leans back and looks over my shoulder at the horizon. “We missed the sunset.”

Only now do I notice it’s dark enough to cast the sky in a light purple to a dark blue hue. “I guess we did.”

“Do you want to catch a movie?” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest, seemingly content with sitting here for hours.

“I have a better idea. Do you like pie?” I smile when he sucks in his breath and unwraps his arms, giving me space to push back and meet his eyes that travel down to my lap and back.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Ma makes the best pies within a hundred miles of Rizona. We have berry cobbler, key lime, chocolate cream, and country cinnamon apple baked fresh yesterday. Want a slice?”

“That sounds like the perfect way to end a first date.” He smacks my ass again. “Let’s go.”

* * *

We ride home and without input from me, Drak pulls right into the diner’s parking lot where a shiny new SUV and Jerry’s patrol car sit. The lights from the kitchen seep into the dining room through the pickup window separating the grill from the front counter.

Drak shuts down the engine and puts the kickstand down as I pull off the helmet with a lot less grace and care than he showed me earlier. “Is there supposed to be anyone here this late at night?”

I shake my head, already scrambling off the back of his motorcycle. “No. What the hell is Jerry doing here?”

“Who is Jerry?” Drak’s voice deepens as he grabs my arm, keeping me from marching inside to demand answers.

“My sister’s husband. He’s a local deputy sheriff, but I can’t imagine why he’s here.”

Jerry comes out of the kitchen with two guys, Danny and Tony, that I’ve seen sniffing around for the last month. They come in to eat at least once a week and Danny’s constantly offering me a job. To do what, he won’t say. All eyes come to us in the parking lot through the big glass windows and although I can’t hear what they’re saying, I can tell Jerry is telling them he will handle this by the way he motions with his hands.

“Hey Missy. What are you doing out?” Jerry says casually as he pushes through the front door.

“What the hell, Jerry? Ma is going to have a heart attack when she finds out you’re using her kitchen without permission.” It takes me a second to realize that Drak is standing next to me and has his fingers slipped into the back of my jeans to hold me in place, much like Karden did to Sylvie yesterday.

“Best you don’t tell her then, don’t you think?” Jerry, like the pain in the ass older brother he’s always been to me, quips back.

“Hey Missy. You look good. Nice night, isn’t it?” Danny smiles at me while Tony glares at Drak.

“Who the fuck are you?” Tony sneers.

Drak tightens his grip on me but doesn’t answer him.

“This is my man.” I spit out, although I have no idea why I felt the need to state that out loud. We haven’t had that talk. We’re nowhere near that talk, even if Drak gives off possessive vibes—the kind I want to bask in.

“Man?” Danny’s smile falters.

“Maplewood.” Tony motions with his hand at the patch on Drak’s vest. “We have friends there.”

“Do you?” Drak finally speaks.

“Oh yeah. We have friends everywhere.” Tony chucks Jerry on the shoulder, which sends a chill up my spine. “Isn’t that right, Deputy Tillman?”

Jerry at least has the decency to look ashamed and casts his eyes to the ground.

“Well, thanks for the tour of the kitchen. We learned a lot.” Tony pulls keys out of his pocket and walks toward the driver’s side of the SUV.

Danny continues to stare, this time without the charming smile he normally flashes me. “When are you going to come work for me, Missy?”

A low growl comes out of Drak beside me. “You need to leave.”

Holding his hands up, Danny chuckles and walks to the passenger side of their ride. “Just offering the girl a job. She’s got assets and skills I can use.”

“Motherfucker.” Drak hisses, his body ramrod straight and grip on me tight until they pull out of the parking lot, their taillights disappearing in the distance.

“Dammit, Missy. What are you doing here?” Jerry rubs his head, something he does when he’s stressed. I’ve watched him do it every time Melanie has gone into labor, damn near rubbing bald spots in his closely cropped hair.

“Oh Jerry. What are you mixed up in?” I shake my head and think of the tidbits Sylvie told me about the Lupino brothers, Marco and Merca, before she left Rizona. They were pressuring her to sell them the bar before it blew up last January, but they disappeared days before Doyle left town. We’ve all heard the sheriff is dirty, but I didn’t think my brother-in-law was too.

“It’s nothing. Mind your business and I’ll handle it.”

Drak lets go of my belt loops to rest his hand on the back of my neck. “Look man, I don’t know you, but this seems far from handled.”

“Who are you?” Jerry waves a hand in his direction, his deputy badge shiny on his chest and his gun holstered at his side.

“Like Missy said, I’m her man and I really don’t like what we walked in on here.”

“Are you strapped?” I see Jerry’s critical eye come to life, the one he usually has when he’s not rattled. I’ve always thought he was a good cop, but now I don’t know what to think.

“I’m always carrying. It’s under my vest, left side.”

Jerry blows out a breath. “At least it’s concealed. Otherwise, I think they would have taken that as a challenge.”

“Why? They’re clearly not threatened by your gun.” The insult flies off of Drak’s tongue so matter-of-factly that I’m stunned speechless.

Jerry’s jaw clenches, but he says nothing. Then I notice the dark circles under his eyes and the bone tired sag of his shoulders. I thought it was because he was working extra shifts, but now I’m thinking it’s because of the additional stress he’s taken on. I wonder how much of his remodeled kitchen is from dirty money?

I walk out of Drak’s possessive hold and approach my brother-in-law gently. “What’s going on, Jer? Why were they inside the diner?”

“I’m trying to protect my family, Missy. That includes you and Ma.” Jerry shakes his head. “They’re interested in the empty storage room and the unused space in the basement. I’m doing my best to convince them it’s not a good place and that any of the abandoned stores would be better to use for their inventory, but they like the idea of hiding in plain sight. Push comes to shove, Ma’s going to have to turn a blind eye to the extra dry goods sitting on the shelves.”

I shake my head. “She’ll never go for it, Jerry. You know that.”

He closes his eyes. “The less she knows, the better.”

“Does Melanie know?”

“No.” He snaps, his eyes glowering with renewed vigor. “She can’t know about any of this.”

Drak walks up behind me, closing the distance between us. “No bullshit, Jerry. Are Missy and Ma in danger by staying here?”

He sighs, utterly defeated. “Currently? No. But if I can’t change their focus soon, I don’t know.”