Falling For A Redneck (18 page)

S
trutting out of her bedroom in her four-inch stilettos, Marissa couldn’t help but smile at the expression on Dirk’s face as she pirouetted to show him her ensemble.

Whistling
in appreciation, Dirk paced around her, the admiring look in his eyes as obvious as the bulge in his pants. “Holy shit, princess. You are one hot-looking Domme.”

Warmth at his praise heated her cheeks. But even she could admit she was smoking in her ensemble.
Skintight black leather pants, low-hipped to show off her belly button with a pasted-on jewel, a tight leather corset that gave her shadowy cleavage, and ruby-red lips, which she licked.

Dirk
let out a groan. “Oh God, when this over, we are coming back here, and I am going to so enjoy peeling that outfit off you. Don’t you ever wear this out of my sight again. I don’t want any other men seeing how bloody hot you are.”

Forget everything she’d once thought about macho men
. His possessive tone was sexy.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked
, his mien turning serious. “We can still go to the cops and let them take care of it.”

“No
, this is my fault, and I need to fix it. I just hope this works.” So many things could go wrong, but she had to try. Needed to get on with her life without constantly peeking over her shoulder.

They drove in almost silence to the motel, Dirk’s face tight, Marissa nervous. When they got there
, the lot sat empty. Marissa brought in her equipment bag and prepared herself mentally.

As
Dirk prowled the room, his large presence proved both comforting and arousing.
His overprotective routine is hot,
Marissa thought, her loins coiling with heat even though her nerves were a wreck.

A knock sounded
, and Dirk hustled into the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack.

Marissa put on her mask before she answered and let her sub in. Accustomed to her methods, he immediately put himself in position on his hands and knees, his leather
-masked head hanging down, awaiting punishment.

But Marissa wouldn’t be the one doing the punishing tonight if all went well.

Quicker than she would have expected, another knock came at the door. Her sub’s head started to come up, but Marissa tapped it with her crop, and he dropped it back down.

“Come in,” Marissa called, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering madly in her stomach.

Her stalker came in, ball cap pulled low and wearing a bulky jacket. However, those items barely registered because Marissa found herself much more interested in the revolver pointed at her.

Marissa raised her hands. “You don’t have to do this,” she said.

Her stalker gave a shrill laugh. “How else am I to stop this—this—” Words failed her, and the gun, which had wavered a bit, became steady again, aimed right at Marissa’s heart.

“It’s not me he wants,”
explained Marissa, keeping her tone soft and hopefully non-menacing. “It’s punishment he craves. He wants to be put in his place. To escape the power he wields by day by letting loose at night. But it doesn’t have to be me who does it, Elizabeth.”

Startled
, her stalker jerked back as if slapped by the sound of her name. “How do you know who I am?”

Elizabeth’s husband Harold
—also known as Mr. Mayor—tried to lift his head again, but Marissa slapped it down. “Don’t move and stay out of it,” Marissa snarled to him. “This is all your fault, and you will be made to pay for it.”

Elizabeth’s eyes hardened into ice flecks at Marissa’s actions. “Don’t you touch him,” she warned, cocking the gun.

“Trust me, I’d rather not,” said Marissa dryly. “So do us all a favor and take over, would you?”

“Me? I
— But—” Elizabeth looked blankly at the riding crop Marissa held out to her.

“He needs to be punished
, Elizabeth. And you need to do it. You can be his mistress, the deliverer of the pain and punishment he craves. Vent on him. I know you’re angry. Use it.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not? He’s the one you’re angry at. And he wants you to punish him. Why not get what you both need?” A need Marissa no longer had. Not since she’d met Dirk.

With her free
hand, Elizabeth reached out, her fingers curling around the handle of the crop as the one holding the gun dropped to her side.

She wet her lips as she swung it experimentally.
“How does it work?” Elizabeth asked as her husband trembled in what Marissa believed was excitement on the floor.

For the next hour,
Marissa taught Elizabeth how to dominate her husband—the name-calling, the hitting, the humiliation he craved. When it was all over, Harold shuffled out to the car after hugging his wife and telling her he loved her. He also promised never to stray again from his true mistress, his wife.

Alone, the gun thankfully tucked in her purse,
Elizabeth approached Marissa with apology in her eyes. “I’m sorry. When I found out what he was doing, I was so angry. And humiliated. We’ve been married so long. And to find out he was betraying me … I wanted to hurt you.”

Only too well could
Marissa identify with that emotion. She’d lived with anger herself for so long. “We all make mistakes. I’m just glad this one didn’t end up fatal. I take it that I won’t be getting any nasty notes anymore?”

“No more notes. Or accidents.”
Elizabeth looked sheepish. “I’m sorry about your car. I just meant to scare you. And the gun, just so you know, it’s empty. I only planned to frighten you off, not actually shoot you.”

Well
, that was a relief. “You know what? In a sense, I’m thankful this happened. You made me wake up and realize this wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life anymore. Now go. Keep him in line, and here, take this.” Marissa handed her the hockey bag full of tools she’d no longer need.

“Are you sure?”

“Very,” said Marissa. “I don’t need them anymore.” Marissa’s bottomless well of anger had dried up, finally, and it felt good to be relieved of that burden.

With
more thanks and apologies, Elizabeth left, closing the door behind her. Seconds later, Dirk crushed Marissa from behind, and she found her lips devoured.

When Dirk finally let her come up for air, he shook his head at her. “That was one of the most disturbing hours of my life. And was that who I think it was?”

Marissa nodded.

“Holy shit.
The mayor.”

Dirk laughed on and off as they drove home, shaking his head. “How did you know that would work?” he finally asked.

“I didn’t,” replied Marissa. “Thank God it did, though. When I saw the gun, I was kind of worried.”

“
Gun or not, don’t forget, I was there. I wouldn’t have failed you. I would never let someone hurt you.”

A declaration that warmed her and
, yet, Marissa couldn’t think of a reply, not with the truth hanging over her head, so she stayed silent. Despite her pledge to finally divulge her secret, she couldn’t help but strut up to her house in her heels, shaking her ass for his benefit. He quite enjoyed it because they no sooner entered her house than she found herself pushed up against the wall.

Dirk’s breath was uneven against her neck as he licked a tr
ail down to her cleavage.

“Dirk,
we need to talk.”

“Not now,” he mumbled, trying to pull at her laces with his teeth.

“Please, I need to tell you something.”

“Later
. My body needs to talk to yours first.”

With his lips locked to hers, they stumbled into the living
room and went no farther. His hands tugged at her leather pants as he kissed her with a ferocious passion she returned. When he’d pushed her pants down far enough to reveal her thong—which he also yanked down—he spun her and placed a hand in the middle of her back.

“
Bend over,” he growled.

Hot for him, she obeyed, pushing her bottom up into the air.
Thighs tight pressed, her pants not letting her spread them, didn’t stop him from dropping to his knees and licking her plump lips. Back and forth he dragged his tongue while she grabbed at the couch, crying out her pleasure, shaking with need.

When she thought she’d cry if he tortured her one moment longer, h
e claimed her from behind, his thick cock pushing into her tight moistness, her legs tethered together by her pants, making it even more decadent. He pounded her hard and fast, his fingers finding and stroking her clit as he drove into her willing flesh.

When he
finally came inside her, Marissa let out a scream of pleasure, her own orgasm sweeping her in a wave of bliss.

Limp, she didn’t protest when he sank onto the couch and pulled her into his lap.
She clung to him tightly, desperately, knowing this was the last time.

His rough hands
cupped her cheeks, forcing her to face him, and he stared at her with such emotion Marissa felt her throat tighten. “I love you,” he declared.

Marissa stiffened
in his arms at the words she longed, yet dreaded, to hear.

“You mustn’t,” she said
, trying to put an icy edge to her reply, but her voice came out high and threaded with panic. Wiggling, she tried to escape his grasp, but he used his strength to pin her to the couch. His strong hands cradled her face, forcing her to look at him.

“I love you
, princess. Come on, you can say it. I know you feel it too.”

“I
—uh—” She struggled both in body and spirit. She longed to scream the words, but she couldn’t. He deserved someone better than her. Someone who could give him what he deserved. Someone undamaged…

“I can’t,” she sobbed.

His body went stiff above hers. “Why? Dammit, I deserve to know why. You love me. I know you love me. Why can’t you admit it? Why do you want to push me away?”

“Because I’m not whole,” she screamed back, ugly tears rolling down her face. “I
’m not a complete woman anymore.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Time for the ugly truth. The real reason her life shattered. The reason her husband left her. Why she would spend her life alone. “I’m damaged goods. Almost seven years ago, I was diagnosed with cervical cancer. There’s only one cure for that. A hysterectomy. They took it all out. Everything,” she screamed, the pain of admitting it almost as bad now as it had been then because, now, it was costing her a second future. “The cancer is gone, but I can’t have children. Do you understand now? I’m damaged goods. Not whole. And you…” Her voice broke. “You deserve someone better than me. Someone who can give you more kids. Who’s not broken inside. You’re such a great dad, with so much love to share. I can’t punish you. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“That fucking bastard!”
Dirk shouted as he jumped to his feet. “Where does he live?”

“Who?”

“Your fucking dickhead of an ex-husband, that’s fucking who. He’s the one who made you think you could never be with someone, isn’t he?” When Marissa didn’t answer, he shouted at her. “Isn’t he?”

“It wasn’t his fault. He wanted children
; I couldn’t give them to him. I wish he’d waited until we were completely divorced to get his girlfriend pregnant. Actually, waiting to get a girlfriend until he told me we were over would have been nice. But I can’t really blame him. No man wants half a woman.” Marissa turned her face from him as her voice cracked and a fresh wave of tears flowed.

Dirk swept her up into his arms. “The only thing you’re half of is the other side of my heart and soul. Dammit
, Marissa, I don’t care if you can’t have babies. I kind of figured that out a while ago when I saw your scars and from some of the things you’ve said. Besides, I’ve got two boys who already love you as a mother, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way too.”

Marissa answered woodenly. “You say that now, but then you’ll end up resenting me and hating me for not being
whole, and you’ll find someone who can give you babies and leave me.”

“Never,” he whispered
, showering her with kisses. “Never ever, my sweet princess. Don’t you understand? I love you. As you are. I don’t need more children; I just need you. I want you there in the morning when I wake up horny. I want you there at night to snuggle. I want to be with you every moment of the day. Hell, I even love your neurotic clean freak side. I want to grow old with you and have a porch swing of our own where we can count the stars. I love you, Marissa. You, as you are, forever and always. The only way you could ever hurt me is if you don’t return that love.”

“I do love you. I do, I do,” she exclaimed. “But I’m so scared.”
So scared, but she wanted to believe—to trust.

H
er precious redneck gazed down at her, his expression solemn and yet so loving. “Marissa Masters, I love you so much it hurts. I love you the way you are. I don’t care if you can’t have kids. I don’t care if you like to beat men. Hell, I’ll even let you beat me if you promise to love me and do me the honor of marrying me.”