Dom Wars: Round Five

  I hoped I was the only one to notice how slowly Steve typed in his search terms. The Preacher wouldn't like him dragging his feet because he dreaded his part of the assignment.

  "Pierson Funeral Home." Steve gave a huge sigh of dread and clicked. He read in silence until I worried the Preacher would get pissed then finally began mumbling what he found in droid tone, "Established in 1879, still in the same family. The current owners, Phil and Joanna, are under extreme pressure from one of the big chains to sell. Looks like they won't have much choice, since they have no children to leave it to. Phil's niece, Caroline, is the only family member possibly interested, and she has a history of drug use and criminal activity, so it's unlikely she'll be able to take it over."

  "How old is the niece?" the Preacher asked, betraying interest.

  Steve clicked, typed and read some more. "Twenty-eight. Single mother, four year-old son." The Preacher nodded and looked at his watch. "Perfect timing. We're done here. Ladies, would you care for anything here before we leave?"

  His woman whispered something to him in another language and he answered likewise, that deep voice rumbling.

  Tara looked at me and Steve, then shook her head. "I'm fine. Thank you."

  "Don't worry about me," Steve put a hand on her arm, "You get yourself some refreshments."

  "Nah," Tara said. "I don't really care for Micky D's." She winked and Steve gave one solemn nod and slowly removed his hand from her arm.

  The Preacher barked at the driver to take us back. With every foot we drove, poor Steve looked like he was being surgically removed from a twin and might not survive the shock.

  Heavy clouds choked the thin light from the setting sun as we turned onto the narrow camp road. Full darkness arrived before we made it back to the campsite, though it wasn't that late.

  Preacher opened the door. "Gather around the campfire to plan our strategy."

  I looked at Tara, yearning to take her to our tent. "All of us?"

  "Yes. Especially the women. Females are exceptionally talented in forming strategy."

  We all piled out of the car and I led Tara to the smoldering fire. We all got situated and I slipped my arm around Tara's waist and leaned in for several soft kisses on her cheek as the limo left.

  The Preacher disappeared into his tent for a moment, returning with a spray bottle. He sprayed Becca, and himself, then passed the bottle to me. Recognizing the bug repellent, I shook my head. "We're good. Took care of that when we first got here."

  The Preacher shrugged. "Suit yourself."

  I took a chance and stole a quick kiss. The faint sound Tara made in response sent a lightning bolt of desperation through my balls.

  "Business number one," the preacher announced loudly.

  Steve cleared his throat. "Um, business number one is the toy store," Steve looked at the Preacher, then the women. "Can't wait to hear what sort of strategy you come up with for this."

  The Preacher gave a slow grin and nodded. "Ladies?"

  "Well…" Tara said. "Moms and dads…"

  A long silence ensued before Becca finished, "Need to play too?"

  Tara pointed at her, smiling. "Yes. Need to play to. And need their own toys."

  "Perfect," Steve said, bobbing a finger at me. "Write that down." I did, trying to imagine myself playing that angle in a sales pitch. Maybe we could find a better one.

  "Number two?"

  Or maybe not.

  "Next is the hospital." Steve positioned the computer on his lap. "Tara's deal."

  "Tara? You have any angles?" Jealously knifed through me at the preacher's gentle tone.

  She stared at the campfire and pursed her lips like she were having a casual conversation with a brother. Which made me jealous again. "I'm…sure I can figure out a way to convince the women at the Women's Center that these…products are in their favor to purchase. Like… good form of birth control for women who… don't want to get pregnant too quickly?"

  Becca leaned forward. "And sexual stimulation speeds up the healing in a woman's body as well. It also releases hormones that can begin and accelerate labor, too. There are products there to aid in that when a husband is busy working, perhaps?"

  "Oh," Tara said softly. "Didn't…know that one. Good angle."

  I studied Tara's lowered profile while the preacher burst out laughing. "See what I mean? I think the women need to handle up on this. Fucking brilliance waiting to happen."

  Becca hissed foreign syllables at him and he returned a few of his own with a kiss to her cheek. "Sorry, baby, I'll try harder." And just like that, he went from ominous force of doom to love-struck teddy bear at the flip of a switch.

  Steve gave a huge sigh. "Last but not least is my assignment." He shook his head at the screen, his face a mask of disgust. "I mean…who in the world is going to want to buy synthetic pleasure toys at a funeral home?"

  It sounded like his balls were slowly being clamped in a vice, the final words painfully shrill.

  There was a brief pause of silence before the preacher's laughter exploded out. Becca slapped him on the back before following suit, covering her face. I fought my own back only to lose it the second Tara did.

  "Oh, this is funny for all of you!" Steve cried. "What am I supposed to say to this crowd? Johnny's dead, may he rest in peace and oh, how about this lavender latex silhouette of his penis to help carry on the fire of his soul?"

  Preacher fell on his knees howling, with Becca's laughter ringing out, while Tara and I held our stomachs in a fit of silent giggles.

  "I'm being serious here!" Steve shouted, standing. "Only the devil would try to sell dildos to the grieving! My God! I'll burn in hell for it! How am I supposed to answer for that?"

  I felt terrible for laughing when he was so dead seriously upset, which made it that much fucking funnier. Tara apparently felt bad too and repeatedly attempted to console him only to fall over in laughter.

  Poor Steve finally cracked a grin that led to his own guffaws of laughter. "Miss Sally, I heard your Harry was a hard man. Much like our silver bullet dildo." He barely finished the words before bowing over.

  I gasped for air and barely managed, "Our ass-gasm cock-ring-plug is sure to take him to heaven."

  "Or the ball clincher for the asshole deserving hell," Tara squeaked.

  Motherfuck, I was dying. We sat there howling for five whole minutes, five whole eternal minutes, everything normal in the craziest of moments.

  And then, when we finally died down to silent smiles, gazing at the campfire, listening to the many sounds of the forest around us, an odd peace fell on me. Fucking strangest thing. I laced my fingers in Tara's hand and she laid her head on my shoulder. Faint in the distance, the eerie wail of wolves howling sent a chill down my back and I pulled her closer.

  "Bane, we have business at midnight, you and me. Go spend time with your woman." His deep voice was un-compromising and rebellion easily lost out to the desire to do exactly as he said. That time anyway.

  Chapter Seven

  I hurried to stand before the Preacher could change his mind.

  With Tara's fingers laced in mine, I led her to our tent, and unzipped the flap. We both waved away any hovering insects and hurried to crawl into the tent and secure the flap. I took her in my arms and just held her, grateful to be near her.

  A shadow moved between the fire and our tent and I heard Preacher tell Steve to get the portable radio so they could catch up on the news. Something told me he was trying to give us a small measure of privacy.

  I hated when the bastard acted civilized. No doubt it was just a decoy to make me complacent while he plotted something incredibly painful or humiliating. My father had the same hypocritical ability to treat people decently only to knock them on their ass in the next instant. Just never any of the decency part for me. Unless it was in front of people he wanted to impress, make them think he was a great dad. I especially detested those lying moments with him. Fucking faking affection for his son. More painful than the beati
ngs from the bastard, having him pretend to love me when I knew, and he knew, it was a fucking farce.

  I took a deep breath and shrugged off the past. It had no place here with Tara and me. There was no room for all that pain and bitterness. With one hand, I found the flashlight suspended from the hook in the center of the tent top and turned it on. I wanted to see her while I made love to her. Drawing her close again, I bent to her mouth.

  "Bane, we don't want a silhouette performance." Preacher's loud words intruded on the private world inside the flimsy walls of the tent.

  One last look at Tara's precious face, smiling with mischief, and I shut the light off. Tara snickered just as the Steve began working the tuner on the little portable.

  Slippery nylon rustled and Tara grabbed my hand, pulling me down to the sleeping bag she'd laid out for us. I settled beside her, careful to keep my weight from hurting her on the hard ground. As the wolves howled again, maybe a little closer, I kissed her, forgetting everything in that second but feeling her with my lips and tongue, smelling and breathing her into me.

  Time stood still in the little cocoon and I took my time, exploring her mouth as my hands began to roam over her body. The instinct to refresh my memory and know her all over again in a devouring rush drove me while at the same time another part of me insisted I go slow and savor every second. Between her blazing hot barely contained moans on my skin and the softness of her curves pressing hungrily against me, I was the happiest man on earth in that moment.

  Impatience began to win out, along with need. I lifted her shirt and she shifted to help me get it over her head while she unclipped her bra, allowing free access. With a shuddering eagerness, I cupped her breast and teased her jaw with my lips, working the hardened tip between my fingers. Her little whimpers restarted time, spurring me on. The only thing that mattered was possessing her as soon as possible. The growl rolled through my throat as I worked her pants and panties off in a rush. She arched her back under the tremble of my fingers skimming up the inside of her thigh. Too hungry to take the time for finesse, I plunged my finger inside her, stealing her gasp with my devouring kiss.

  Taut inner muscles gripped my finger with surprising strength as Tara lifted her hips to give me better access. Groaning, I pulled out and spread her wetness over her clit. Sliding my finger back inside her, I teased her swollen gem with my thumb and relished the fuck out of her desperate whimpers.

  Clumsy hands fought my jeans and yanked them open, freeing my erection. An involuntary thrust lifted my hips and permitted her to shove the offending pants down a little. Rocking forward, I came into contact with her hip and hissed in reaction to the heat that speared my unbelievably sensitive cock. I resumed my naughty assault on her pussy with careful perfection, drawing a sharp cry from her.

  "Shhhhh," I reminded, smiling against her mouth. Her hand wrapped around my now exposed cock and I grunted.

  "Shhhh." Her triumphant little smile faded under the hunger of my lips as I got serious. Holding her jaw with my other hand, I rammed my finger mercilessly against her core while nipping and licking up every stifled gasp and cry. She made up for the lack of sound with harder hair pulling and scratching. That amazing pain coming from her hands somehow fucking turned me on even more. Hard passion drove me to pull her hair back, to use it to force her neck up so I could suck the fuck out of that silky skin. I placed my mouth at her ear and bit the lobe hard. "I want to teach you something."

  She grabbed my face and kissed me, clearly not wanting to learn anything but my mouth in that second. "What?" she finally said. "Teach me what?"

  I pulled up and was able to make out the shine of her eyes and lips, my eyes adjusted to the dark. "I…want to teach you to come on command." For some reason that sounded lame as shit in my ears.

  She was still winded from the kiss and smiled. "Like… you tell me to come and I come?"

  My cock jerked at just the idea. "Yes."

  "Well… can we practice it tomorrow?"

  I drew soft circles over her wet clit and she arched her back and hips with a stifled moan. I smiled and licked my lower lip slowly. "Why not now?"

  She grunted lightly, seeming torn. "What? Why now?"

  "Because it seems to be the perfect time to practice?" I smiled, flicking her clit with my finger and kissing her temple. "Don't you think?"

  She raked her nails along my chest, thrusting her hips into my delicate touch. "I don't, I don't think. I want come right now. Please."

  I dove on her mouth and rammed her core with my finger again, eating up all the barely stifled sounds her throat produced. "You're fucking turning me on more than ever trying to be quiet."

  She bit my lip, gasping with need. "Make me come Lucian, please," she whispered on my mouth.

  "Yes," I answered, "On command."

  She stilled a moment before whispering, "Oh, that kind of coming?"

  It was my turn to pause with a grin. "What did you think?"

  She giggled and gave my favorite little snort. "Like… come over here kind of come?"

  I erupted in snickers, fucking loving that. Loving that she was clueless to the lifestyle, yet so eager to explore it with me. That willingness spoke to me louder than words possibly could have.

  She suddenly opened up wider and held my hand tight to her pussy. "Oh God yes. Teach me. Command me. Command me Lucian."

  Her eager, serious tone lit an insane fire in me. Command me, Lucian. She said it like a real sub would, with the deepest sincerity. Overcome me Lucian. Control me. Protect me. Love me. And it didn't just flood me with the power of Dominance but with the impeccable and exquisite control of Master. And I'd never wanted that privilege before, never thought of wanting it. And now, I hungered hard for that honor with her. Wanted to be the perfect lover. The perfect protector. Provider.

  I kicked my jeans the rest of the way off and out of the way, glad for the slippery bag under my knees as I moved. I knelt and rested back on my heels to lift her ass into my lap. The position gave me free rein and brought the tip of my cock into contact with her drenched heat. I rocked a little, rubbing the head softly against her clit for a small squeal from her. Her body shifted closer and rose to bring me against her opening. "Please, Lucian. Please. Inside." Her shrill voice held a plea that urged me to plunge into her but I resisted.

  A near perverted desire to torment her drew my lips back in a snarl as she begged me with sharp nails and iron muscles. Teeth bared, I held her ass tight and moved her wet folds along the under-side of my cock, each thrust of my hips to bring the swollen head to her clit. Tara's thighs quivered against my sides and she writhed in her desperation, trying to pull me into her pussy.

  I stilled and dug my fingers in her firm ass-cheek, letting her know she had to wait. She had to submit to my pace. My control. I found her hand and put her middle and ring finger on her clit and silently told her to rub it for me.

  She didn't waste a second and I slowly entered her, listening closely to her body with my eyes closed. The tension in her muscles, the speed of every breath, the restraint of her moans, all communicated with the language only I would ever know. I raked my nails slowly along her ass and down her outer thighs, letting her move on me. I latched a hand to her wrist, gripping it hard, silently telling her to slow down. When I felt she understood, I moved trembling fingers delicately along her quivering abs to tease at the underside of her sweet breasts. "What's the magic word for you baby?" I glided my fingers over one nipple, then the other. "The magic touch?" My slow ravenous hunt led me to her tight ass where I pressed the tip of my finger inside.

  She let our several sharp gasps, giving me my answer. But I wasn't ready for her to come. Not when I was ready to make it last forever.

  I slid my nails along her spine next, measuring the tension in her body that it awarded me. "You like this." The words shot out on a harsh whisper fueled with outrageous desire. Power surged through my fingers and I raked them along her spine again.

  Tara immediately locked up on m
e with a ferocious fucking orgasm bucking her sweet hips.

  I fell forward and drove into her, overcome with the force of the need.

  Her sharp gasps blasted in my ear as her body trembled with spasm after spasm, her nails raking my back, driving me harder. Her beautiful pussy clutched my cock as I thrust without mercy. A sharp cry escaped her, reminding me of the need for quiet and I dove onto her mouth, ready to have every noise she made, as her inner muscles convulsed and milked my cock.

  She hadn't exactly come at my verbal command, but I was sure I'd just learned how to make that happen.

  My own orgasm exploded forth, a nuclear blast at the base of my spine, reverberating through my balls. She held my face and mouth to hers, capturing every growl and grunt as we lit up the stratosphere. Lit the fucking universe and visited forever in a matter of seconds.

  Finally, spent, I collapsed a bit to the side, heaving for breath, once more filled with that awe I always had with her. "Fuck, baby, I love you."

  Gentle fingers stroked my lips, her own labored breaths slowing. "I love you, Lucian."

  Chapter Eight

  "Bane, it's time. Come on." The preacher's low voice just outside the tent dragged me out of the happy little bubble of lying there with a sated Tara in my arms.

  Could I get by with faking sleep? My hackles rose at the thought of him seeing Tara all soft and naked and I slipped my arm from under her and rose, fumbling for my clothes. I managed to get into my jeans, and grabbed my shirt and shoes and left the tent as quietly as possible. Making sure the tent was sealed back up against the bugs, I paused long enough to shrug my shirt on and get my shoes on the right feet.

  Fighting the urge to drag my ass, I headed for the banked camp fire, where the Preacher waited for me. What the hell could he have planned that demanded to be done at midnight?

  The stiff set to the preacher's shoulders said he was either pissed or dreaded something. Probably pissed. At me. I approached the fire, quiet.

  He looked up at me, the depths of Hell in those black eyes. "You ready?"