Tickle His Fancy: Trident Security Book 6 (Trident Security Series) (13 page)

“Yup. Drinks are on me tonight. Are Chuck and Marie on their
way down from Charlotte?”

Devon shook his head. “No. As much as they can’t wait to see
JD, Dad and Mom decided to wait two weeks to give us time to settle into a
routine. Kristen’s mom and stepdad will be flying down on Saturday morning for
a few days, and her dad and stepmom told us to let them know what days are good
for them to come.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, but when Kristen yawned,
the men said their goodbyes. The new mother needed all the sleep she could get
before being sent home. Life as Devon and Kristen had known it was over, and
while waiting for the hospital elevator, Brody’s gut clenched a little as he
thought about Fancy. He hadn’t asked her if she could still have children after
the miscarriage, and he wouldn’t. She would tell him when the time was right
for her. If their future children needed to be adopted or born through a
surrogate, then that was fine with him. But he knew in his heart that she was
the woman for him. Now, he just had to convince her of that fact.

The next evening, pulling open the door to the steakhouse,
Brody let Fancy precede him. Marco and Harper had already arrived and waved to
him from the bar. A quick glance around told him they had beaten the third
couple there. Earlier in the day, his teammate had suggested a double date
since Harper’s mother had baby Mara for the night. When Brody mentioned it to
Fancy, she’d told him Corey and his new girlfriend had also invited them to
dinner. Everyone had agreed to all three couples getting together.

When he’d picked Fancy up at her condo, Brody had almost sent
a text for everyone to start dinner without them. She had donned a cute, red
sundress, heeled sandals, and a short-sleeved, white sweater that was light
enough for the warm weather, but would also keep her from getting chilled in
the restaurant’s air-conditioned dining room. The cut of the dress had
accentuated her generous curves, and the urge to drape her over the back of her
couch, lift up her skirt, and fuck her from behind had been powerful. He’d been
sporting a semi hard-on ever since, and her subtle perfume hadn’t helped one
bit. He had to remember to ask her the name of it later so he could purchase a
barrel of the stuff—no matter how much it cost.

With a hand on Fancy’s lower back, he led her to the bar and
introduced her to his friends. Marco shook her hand and smiled. “So you’re the
baker who’s been supplying us with all the goodies. It’s nice to finally meet
you.”

“Same here. I hope Brody’s been sharing everything.”

Marco good-naturedly slung an arm around his buddy’s neck.
“If he didn’t, I think everyone would mug him.”

Harper chimed in, “And thank you for the cookies for Mara.
She loved them, although most of them ended up as crumbs on the floor. That’s
what happens when you have a nearly one-year-old. Speaking of which, Angie is bringing
me to your shop on Saturday, so I can order a cake for the baby’s birthday. She
said you have the most adorable cake ideas for kids.”

“Wonderful. I look forward to showing you some options, and
I’m glad she liked the cookies.”

Only because Brody was aware of her loss, he did see the
quick flash of sadness in her eyes at the discussion of babies. However, she
hid it well and the others didn’t seem to notice—not even her brother-in-law.
One of Brody’s sisters had miscarried her first child, two weeks after
announcing the pregnancy to everyone. That had been over eight years and three
healthy children ago, and he knew Doreen still felt the loss as strong as it
had been back then.

The bartender stopped in front of them and, after checking
with Fancy, Brody ordered a Merlot for her and a beer for himself. The
conversation flowed, and it wasn’t long before the front door opened and a
petite brunette walked in with Corey right behind her. Everyone was surprised
when Harper and Corey’s date, Nora Parsons, let out squeals of recognition and
hugged each other. When they separated, introductions were made all around.

Corey glanced back and forth between Harper and Nora. “How do
you two know each other? From school?” Fancy had mentioned to Brody that Nora
was an elementary school teacher.

Harper started, “My—”

At the same time, Nora also tried to explain. “Her—”

They both laughed, and Harper gestured for the other woman to
continue. “My cousin, Monica, is Harper’s paralegal. We’ve hung out a few
times. And Marco, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you
from Monica and Harper; I feel like I already know you.”

Placing her arm around her fiancé’s waist, Harper hugged him
close and gave Brody a subtle glance. “Well, I haven’t told you everything about
him—a woman has to have some secrets about her man.”

Brody grinned.
Thank you, Harper, message received
. He
doubted Corey was in the lifestyle, but Harper just confirmed for him that
Monica was definitely not a member of the BDSM community, and also not aware
the others were. That was a huge thing in their world—privacy. Many people had
misconstrued conceptions about the lifestyle, and when members of the community
ran into each other in the real world, they either pretended to know each other
from somewhere else or not at all.

He was planning on telling Fancy tonight when they were alone
again. She’d been so open and honest with him, and she deserved the same in
return. Communication was what the BDSM lifestyle was based on, and even though
they weren’t a D/s couple at the moment, he wanted that to be their next step.
If it was meant to be between them, then they could work out any wrinkles in
the relationship together. He just hoped she would keep an open mind until he
could explain and show her what the lifestyle was all about. The power exchange
between a Dominant and submissive wasn’t how most people not in the lifestyle
perceived it to be. Some people thought Doms were a bunch of perverted deviants
who got off on beating their subs before they raped them, and that was so far
from the truth it was beyond ridiculous.

A BDSM relationship is a mutual agreement, either temporary
or long-term, between two adults that is considered to be safe, sane, and
consensual. It is the Dom’s job to push a sub’s limits while giving her—or
him—what she needs and desires. But it’s also the Dom’s job to recognize when a
scene needs to stop, whether the sub wants it to or not, and to honor the use
of a safeword. Just like there are Doms in the life for all the wrong reasons,
there are subs who shouldn’t be there either.

An experienced Dom takes care of the sub’s physical,
emotional, and mental health during a scene. A sub’s trust has to be earned, or
the results can be devastating for both.

The hostess approached the group and told them their table
was ready. Everyone grabbed their drinks and followed her to a table for six in
a secluded back corner. Brody and Marco quickly and silently evaluated the
setup, then chose the seats which gave them the best view of the rest of the
restaurant as well as a vantage point to protect their women, if needed. It was
no longer a conscious thought for them, in was instinctual after their years in
the military and the private security business. It was highly unlikely someone
would start shooting up the place, but in this day and age they couldn’t be one
hundred percent certain.

At the round table for six, Brody and Marco sat with Fancy
and Harper between them. Monica took the other seat next to Marco with Corey on
her left, next to Brody. After a busboy had placed two baskets of warm, fresh
bread on the table with a dish of butter rosettes, the conversation picked up
again.

Corey directed a question at Marco. “So you work with Brody.
Did you serve in the Navy, too? Fancy mentioned. . .
um
. . .what’s
his name?” He glanced at the man seated beside him. “Boomer, was it?” When
Brody confirmed Corey was correct, he continued. “Yeah, Fancy mentioned they
served together as SEALs.”

Swallowing a mouthful of beer, Marco nodded. “Yup. I’ve known
Egghead since basic and then a few years later we ended up on the same team
together.”

“Egghead?”

Marco chuckled. “His call sign. He’s a geek of the highest
degree, but you’d never know by looking at him.”

While Brody gave his buddy a subtle middle finger along the
side of the nose, Corey laughed. “Then I guess he’s a bit of an anomaly—brawn
and
brains.”

Even the women found that amusing and Brody held up his
hands. “Sure, laugh at my expense. Just don’t come running to me when your
laptops or phones go haywire, and you can’t figure out why.”

Harper chimed in. “You’ll probably be the cause of it.” She
filled the others in while he just grinned, knowing exactly what she was going
to say. “Last time he got mad at their boss, he changed all the settings on
Ian’s cell phone and locked him out. The ringtone was set to the ‘Chicken
Dance’ and Siri was calling Ian ‘Princess Twat-Waffle.’”

The group roared, including Brody. “Yeah. I made him sign a
document that Ms. Legal Eagle over there,” he pointed at Harper, “drew up for
me saying he wouldn’t retaliate before I let him have his settings back.”

The waitress interrupted to tell them the specials and ask if
they needed new drinks. When she stepped away again, Corey looked back and
forth between the two other men. “I don’t know how you guys do it. I give a lot
of credit to people who sign up for the military, but you guys went even
further in special ops. Glad you got out of there alive.”

“So are we,” Brody said, assuming he’d meant either Iraq or
Afghanistan—or both. And it was true. They’d lost good men and women—good
friends—over in those desert hellholes, as well as other places they’d been
sent to they couldn’t tell anyone about. “But you’re in a profession that
deserves a lot of credit, too. You run into fires while everyone else is trying
to get out. Were you a fireman up in Ohio, too?”

Corey shook his head. “No. I didn’t know what I wanted to do
with my life back then. When Patrick and Fancy moved down here, I figured why
the heck not and followed. I was sick of the cold winters. One of my new
neighbors was on the job and convinced me to take the test.” He grinned.
“Actually, he’d said it was a great way to meet women.”

Everyone laughed, and Nora said, “Well, that
is
how we
met.”

“Very true.” He put his arm around her shoulder. “My neighbor
was right,
but. . .
he should’ve said it’s a great way to meet
a great woman.”

The brunette blushed. It was obvious she was as smitten with
Corey as he was with her. Brody glanced at Fancy to find her smiling at her
brother-in-law’s happiness, and he gave her a wink. Despite a probable serial
killer who’d set upon the submissives of Tampa, and the issues with Fancy’s
shop, it was turning into a pleasant evening for all of them.

* * *

The Dom smirked as he listened to the chatter around him. The
hot topic at the club tonight was the horrific death of Heather Davis. While
many people had experienced problems with her in the past, apparently what he
had done to her wasn’t something they would wish for anyone. Most of the
details were being kept quiet by the police, but a few had gotten out. On top
of that, there was plenty of speculation—some of which he found quite
hysterical. There had been several times he’d wanted to open up his mouth and
correct the ignoramuses—particularly when they’d referred to the killer as a
psychotic deviant. He wasn’t a psychotic deviant at all, just a man willing to
do his part in ridding the world of worthless whores.

Years ago, when he’d discovered the lifestyle, he felt as if
he’d found his home—his calling. He trained and studied under some of the best
Dom’s in the area, but there had always been something missing—that last piece
that would make him feel complete. And now he’d found it. The satisfaction he’d
had after whipping those three women had made him feel ten feet tall and
bulletproof. And watching the cops tossing their cookies the other morning,
after they’d discovered his masterpiece, had been even more entertaining—making
him yearn to find his next victim and start on a new work of art. But rushing
things would be a mistake. He had to continue being methodical. Otherwise, he
might get caught. Florida had the death penalty, and he’d be damned if someone
ended his life before his destiny was fulfilled.

In the meantime, he could enjoy himself tonight. While he was
scene-ing with a sub, he would be reliving every scream Heather had let out for
him.
Now, who was the lucky lady tonight?

Brody paced Fancy’s living room while she was in the
bathroom. The evening had been fun with the other two couples, but now he was
nervous as all hell. It was time to tell her everything and then pray she
didn’t kick him out the door.

He glanced at the clock on her cable box. Almost midnight.
Neither one of them had to be up early tomorrow—if you called 8:00 a.m. late.
She’d asked Jamie to open for her, and Brody had a detail in the morning at
nine with nothing before then. He’d been happy when Fancy had mentioned hiring
more staff with her business growing bigger as more people began to discover
her little shop, and with the references she’d been getting from the weddings
and parties she’d done. With a larger staff, she would be able to delegate more
and then take some time for herself. She deserved to be pampered, not on her
feet, working her ass off for at least ten hours per day, seven days a week.
When—call him optimistic—he collared her, she would definitely be making some
changes in her life; her fatigue worried him daily. No one could keep up the
pace she’d set for herself without eventually crashing.

The bathroom door opened, and he turned to see her walking
toward him. She’d removed her shoes and sweater but had kept on her sexy
sundress. His hands itched to drag it off her and lose himself in her body, but
they needed to talk first.

“Do you want coffee?” she asked. “Or something else to
drink?”

He shook his head. “No. Come here, we need to talk about
something.”

A wary look came across her face, but she took his
outstretched hand without question and let him lead her to the couch. Sitting,
he brought her palm to his lips and kissed it. “Fancy, there’s something I need
to tell you. I was holding off until we got to know each other better, and now
that you’ve trusted me with your past, I need to trust you with mine.”

“O-Okay.”

He smiled, trying to put her at ease. “It’s not horrible,
sweetness, but it is important to me. I just hope you can accept it and be
open-minded.” His nervousness kicked in big time. He stood and paced the room
but then stopped and let his gaze meet hers. It was time to man up and take the
bull by the horns, so to speak. “Do you know what a Dom is, Fancy? And what a
submissive is?”

Her eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped, but she didn’t say a
word. Instead, she just nodded
. Okay, good. . .this is a really
good start. She didn’t scream and kick me out the door.

“I’ve been a Dom in the BDSM lifestyle for a long time now.
No, I’m not a sadist or a masochist for that matter, but there are many parts
of the lifestyle that I enjoy, and need, in my life.” He began pacing again
under her silent stare, the words pouring forth, now that he’d gotten started.
“I prefer to be in charge in my sexual encounters, although occasionally I
don’t mind vanilla sex. And while I’m not into the Dom/slave thing, I have an
innate need to care for a woman—my woman—when it comes to her protection,
health, and well-being. I’m not saying I want to tie you up right now. . .okay,
that would actually be great. . .but I’m asking you to have an open
mind, ask questions, research it, and maybe give it a chance—with me.”

He halted in front of Fancy, trying to decipher her
expression. It was clear she was thinking things over, and as long as she
wasn’t flipping out, he’d give her all the time she needed.

Patiently, he waited until she seemed to make a decision.
Standing and rounding the coffee table, she approached and then shocked the
shit out of him when she sank to her knees in front of him. Resting her ass on
her heels, she placed her hands, palms up, on her thighs and lowered her gaze
to his feet.

His mouth gaped and his cock twitched as it always did when a
sub presented for him. “H-Holy shit. . .you. . .you’ve
played in the lifestyle before?” If a herd of elephants suddenly stormed the
room, he didn’t think he could be any more stunned than he was at that very
moment. She remained silent while he gathered his composure. “When were you in
the life?”

Fancy hesitated. Going down on one knee, he used his fingers
to lift her chin, but her eyes were still downcast. Cupping her jaw, he tapped
her cheek two times with his finger and let his voice drop into the low, rich
tone any submissive would recognize. “Eyes on me, sweetness.” When her gaze
finally met his, he ordered, “Now, answer me. When were you in the lifestyle?”

She swallowed hard, and her eyes shifted to the right. But he
would have none of that. If she knew enough to present to him properly, then
she knew to obey his command. Her gaze shot back to his when he placed his
hands on either side of her head. “Look away again and there will be
consequences before we go any further.” It was clear she hadn’t thought things
completely through before kneeling in front of him. “But no matter what, we
will be having this conversation. I’m not going to ask the question again,
Fancy.”

He could tell she was fighting the urge to shift her gaze
once more, but this time, her eyes stayed on his. “P-Patrick and I had been exploring
for a few months before he. . .before the accident. Friends of ours
were in the lifestyle for a couple of years and introduced us to it. We went to
the club Spice and were taking classes there when. . .”

Her voice trailed off. At least Spice was one of the better
clubs in the area, located over in St. Petersburg. He’d had a brief bit of
worry they’d gone to one of the seedier clubs where the house rules were a
little lax. Standing, he held out his hand, and, when she took it, helped her
up from her knees. Taking a seat on the couch, he settled her on his lap. They
had a lot to talk about, but at least his panic that she might kick him out was
gone—thank God.

When she rested her head on his shoulder, his heart swelled.
Damn, the things this woman did to him, and he loved every one of them. He let
his hand rest on her bare thigh, under the hem of her dress, and his thumb
caressed her skin. His other arm cradled her lower back. “You must have a ton
of questions, sweetness. I have quite a few of my own, but let’s start with
yours. Ask me anything you want.”

“I don’t know,” she said, her breath warming his neck and
sending goosebumps across his skin. “I guess the first question I have is how
long have you been a Dom and how did you get started?”

That was easy enough to answer. “I had just joined SEAL Team
Four, back when I was twenty-four, almost twenty-five. Marco and I had gone
through basic training together, but we were sent to different posts for a few
years. Then we ended up in the same BUD/s class together—that’s the training
all SEALs go through. Anyway, he’d discovered the lifestyle by that point.
Quite a few guys from Team Four were in it, too. We were over in Paris, and the
guys introduced me to the life. There was a great club not far from where we
were staying. At first, I didn’t know what the hell to think. I had the same
misconceptions a lot of people have about BDSM—you know, it’s just an elaborate
lifestyle for wife beaters to hide behind.”

She snorted against his neck and he chuckled. “What can I
say? I was raised in the South, went to Sunday school as a kid, and didn’t know
there were more than three sexual positions before I graduated high school. At
least, those were the only ones Jo Ellen Tremont let me do with her.”

She laughed, and then shifted a little in his lap. The
wiggling caught the attention of his dick, but he ignored it and glanced down
at Fancy. “Comfortable?”

“
Uh-huh
. Go on.”

He brought his one hand up to her lush breast and let his
fingers stroke the underside over her dress while he continued. “Anyway, the
more I observed and learned, the less I could deny that in the lifestyle was
where I felt complete. I mean, my father made sure every one of his sons knew
the right way to treat a woman—open doors, pull out chairs, kick someone’s ass
if they were disrespecting her or worse. But my instincts went beyond that—I
didn’t know there was this whole lifestyle where a woman would put her entire
trust in me, once I earned it. That she would willingly put her needs and
desires in my hands, and let me take care of her, to cherish her in every way
possible. Tying a submissive up, and doing wild, wicked, and wonderful things
to her, with her complete consent, is a big turn-on for me. But what’s an even greater
turn-on is having her put her trust in me—I never knew I’d been craving that.
And once I realized it, I felt like I’d finally found the last piece of the
puzzle that completed my whole being.
Jeez
, I must sound like Sigmund
Freud.”

“Not at all.” Her hand wandered over his chest and shoulders,
sending heated jolts of electricity through his body.
Damn, who knew this
conversation was going to be a form of foreplay?
“That’s why Patrick and I
were attracted to the lifestyle. But I think I was looking for more out of it
than he was.”

“How so?”

She shrugged. “Well, it was still so new to us, but while he
was content with control in the bedroom, I think I was looking for something a
little more than that. Don’t get me wrong, I loved what he did to me. . .what
we did together, but there were times I wanted him to top me outside of the
bedroom, too. Does that make sense? I mean, I don’t want a Dom/slave
relationship because I love being independent and thinking for myself most of
the time, but other times, I just want to hand over the decision-making to
someone else.”

Smiling, he cuddled her closer. His heart was rejoicing over
everything she was saying. If he hadn’t already been convinced they were made
for each other, he would be now. “It makes perfect sense, sweetness. That’s
what else I get out of the lifestyle. I need to ensure my submissive’s health
and well-being are under my control, yet still allow her to have her
independence. There are times I will want you to be my equal, and others when I
will want your complete submission. I’ll have to get a limit list for you to
complete…that is, if you’re willing to enter into a D/s relationship with me.
Remember, you’re the one who sets your limits, and you’re the one with the
safeword, which I will honor every day of my life.”

He shifted her ass in his lap and almost groaned when she
brushed against the erection he was now sporting. “Look at me, Fancy.” When she
lifted her head, her eyes finding his, he cupped her chin. “Would you consider
exploring a D/s relationship with me? With an open-ended contract and a
temporary collar, for now? I say ‘for now’ because I don’t want to scare you,
but I plan on having you in my bed and my life for a very, very long time. The
contract will be open-ended until you decide you want to renegotiate. But back
to my original question—are you willing to wear my collar and come with me to
The Covenant?”

Holding his breath, he waited for her answer. As long as he’d
been in the lifestyle, he’d only collared two other women, and both times
they’d had an end date on their contract. The first was when he’d been
twenty-eight, and a friend at the club the team belonged to in Virginia had
asked him to take a submissive into his temporary care. She hadn’t been a newbie
but had been extremely wary about wading back into the lifestyle after a bad
relationship. The bastard she’d been with had been a Dom for all the wrong
reasons and had really done a number on her.

The second collared sub had been during his early thirties,
and at the time, he’d thought maybe they would agree on a closed contract
eventually, but it just hadn’t worked out between them. She’d wanted to be his
slave, and that was way more responsibility than he’d wanted. A slave handed
over all decision making to her Dom, from what to wear and eat, to everything
else. It was a life that wasn’t made for most people, and he was one of them.

But the life he did want—with a subsequent permanent collar
and wedding ring—was with the woman who had yet to answer his question.