AtHerCommand (17 page)

Dalton placed a sterile pad on his wound and wrapped
first-aid gauze around the hand to hold the pad in place. His clothes were
covered with grease, sweat and blood, but at least his hands were clean. Hell,
at least he was alive. And he knew who he had to thank for that.

Yeah, he’d talk to the DEA and help with the interrogation.
But then, after a quick shower and a change of clothes, he planned to look up
Agent Dominique Petracelli and get some answers of his own.

* * * * *

Domino whipped her VW into her driveway, threw it into Park
and killed the engine. She was too impatient to wait for her ancient garage
door to open so she left the car where it was. She
had
to know if Dalton
was safe. It’d been hours since he’d been taken from the club. While she’d been
topping submissives, he might have been hurt or worse. On her way home, Dom had
dialed Meyers’ cell phone repeatedly with no success. It was just like her
partner to leave her hanging.

Grabbing her coat and purse, Dom slipped out of the car and
hurried up the sidewalk toward her house. Maybe she could reach her boss at
home. Sam Lowery would’ve been given a status report. Dalton
had
to be
alive. Her mind refused to consider the alternative.

The freezing temperature cut through the silk of her
dominatrix outfit but she’d been too worried to change before leaving work.
Domino pulled her keys out of her purse, blaming her trembling fingers on the
cold and not her anxiety over Dalton. She took the front steps two at a time to
her wraparound porch, her attention on getting inside and making the call. She
slid her key into the lock and opened the door.

A callused hand covered her mouth and she was jerked back
against a steel-hard body. Adrenaline shot through her as she raised the keys
to rake them across her assailant’s face.

“It’s me, dammit!” The hoarse words sounded exasperated.

Domino’s pulse leapt as the musky scent of his aftershave
confirmed his identity.
Dalton!
Her body went slack with relief,
allowing him to push her through the open door into her house. Once inside, he
released her to close and lock the door. She spun to face the man she’d feared
was dead, the man who had haunted her dreams for weeks.

“Thank God.”
Dom launched herself into his arms,
which after a slight hesitation wrapped firmly around her. Dalton felt so
right. After a moment, she raised her head to see his smiling face. “Are you
okay? Are you hurt?”

“Well, my balls are a little bruised, courtesy of Mistress
Bella.” He chuckled at her embarrassed flush. “But thanks to your switchblade,
I had my hands and feet free by the time those goons reached the river. And
that little tracking device brought the cavalry. The DEA took Joey and Hobart
into custody before they could even open the trunk. I guess I owe you one, Agent
Petracelli.”

Dom looked into his intense eyes and thought of the paybacks
he owed her for the sessions with Mistress Bella. Not sure what to say, she
tried to escape his embrace.

“No, you don’t.” Dalton tightened his arms to keep her
clasped against his body. “I like you right where you are.”

“Uh, what about Salvi?” she asked, attempting some emotional
distance through conversation.

“He was arrested at his house.” Dalton cut off her next
question. “I promise to give you all the details later. You see, Dominique, I
haven’t thanked you properly yet for saving my life.” The way he pronounced her
name sent a shiver through her. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to do
since the first time I saw you…”

Dom realized his intent a second before his mouth took hers in
a hard, punishing kiss.
God, yes.
His sexual hunger mirrored her own and
she welcomed it. She pressed against him, arching to get closer still. Dalton’s
arms tightened almost painfully around her body and his lips bruised hers.

She gasped and his tongue drove into her mouth, searching
out and tangling with hers. Dom splayed her fingers through his hair and held
on as she returned his kiss. For an eternity they warred for dominance, each
fighting to inflame the other. Finally the need for oxygen broke them apart and
she looked into eyes so filled with desire they were midnight blue.

“Tonight we’ll do things my way,” Dalton warned, mocking
Mistress Bella’s words. “If you’re not up to the challenge, say so now and I’ll
leave.” He loomed over her, his posture menacing. “Because once we start,
there’ll be no yellow light, red light, safe-word crap. Understand?”

Dom licked her dry lips and nodded, a shudder of sexual
anticipation racing through her body.

Dalton’s gaze flickered to her mouth before returning to her
eyes. “If I stay, I’ll explore every inch of your body and get to know you in
ways you’ve never dreamed before. Do you want me, Domino?”

Fighting down the frisson of fear his words inspired, she
lifted her chin. “Yes,” she said in a firm voice. Then the air whooshed out of
her lungs as Dalton threw her over his shoulder in a firefighter’s lift. “Is
this necessary?” she demanded, sounding squeaky to her own ears.

“Yes.” His voice rumbled in his chest, the vibrations
tickling her breasts as she hung upside down against his back. “Which way to
your bedroom?”

“Neanderthal,” she muttered. But she slid her hand around
the front of his body and pointed to the hallway on the right.

“It feels good to act the caveman after all those weeks as a
wimp,” he growled. Giving her a swat on her butt, he headed toward the back of
her house.

A bark brought him up short. Domino pushed herself upward
far enough to see Smokey standing in the archway to the living room. His teeth
were bared and he looked as fierce as a thirteen-pound dog could look.

“What type of mutant rat-dog is that?” Dalton asked.

“He’s a Chinese Crested and a highly trained DEA drug dog,”
Dom answered in defensive of her canine partner.

“Well, call off the little ankle biter unless you want him
to follow us to bed.” Dalton’s tone was amused. “I’m not an exhibitionist and I
doubt you want an audience.”

Domino gulped and did as requested. “Smokey, sit. Stay.”

The dog obeyed with a few low yips that resembled
bad-tempered grumbling. Dalton continued down the hall. More than gravity
caused the blood to rush to Dom’s face as he carried her into her bedroom.
Unlike the contemporary look of the rest of the house, her bedroom was
decorated in frilly florals, creating a romantic, Victorian boudoir setting at
odds with her agent persona. And given Dalton’s experiences with Mistress
Bella, the ultra-feminine room suddenly seemed absurd.

The full moon filtered through the gauzy curtains,
illuminating the king-sized bed with its brass headboard and jumble of pillows.
Without ceremony, Dalton dumped her onto the bed and stood watching, hands on
hips, as she pushed her hair from her face.

“Take off your clothes.” His order was short and
non-negotiable.

Domino shivered, realizing he was following Mistress Bella’s
script. Tonight would be about sex, not love. But she was beyond self-deception
and wouldn’t project this man into any fantasies about white picket fences and
happily ever afters. She wanted Dalton more than she’d ever wanted any man. So
she’d give him her body and take the pleasure he was offering without pretty
promises. But she would protect her heart.

Domino pulled down the long zipper that bisected her silk
dress. His gaze followed her fingers and his eyes widened as he realized she
wasn’t wearing a bra. A flash of feminine pride softened her innate resistance
to giving up control. She revealed her breasts, stripped off the gilded dress
and dropped it over the side of the bed. Her nipples tightened under his keen
inspection.

Dom kicked off her sandals and they tumbled to the floor.
All that remained were her golden garterless stockings and her thong. Moving
deliberately, she slipped her fingers under the elastic edge of the stocking on
her right leg, peeled it down and dropped it. Smoothing her hands up her left
leg, she grasped the top of that stocking and removed it as well.

Dalton’s gaze stroked her bare legs as it swept to the small
patch of gold silk shielding the last of her from his eyes. She hesitated,
suddenly reluctant to take this last step.

“Everything.” His hoarse voice brooked no opposition.

Dom slid off her thong and lay back on the bed. The hot
anticipation of finally feeling Dalton inside her fought with her discomfort at
being naked in front of this fully clothed male. As she watched, his hands
curled into fists and he seemed to be struggling for control.

“Reach up and grab hold of the bed.” His order came through
clenched teeth, gruff and imperative.

Dom slowly complied, the brass of the headboard cold against
her palms. The movement arched her back and thrust up her breasts in
invitation. She was only simulating bondage, but the intensity of his stare
pinned her to the bed as surely as a rope.

“Spread your legs.”

His voice was so low she almost missed the command. Domino
moved her legs a few inches apart.

“Wider.”

The word hit her like a slap and she opened herself fully to
his gaze. A hot blush suffused her skin at the thought that her swollen, damp
flesh was clearly visible. In the quiet room she heard Dalton’s breath catch
and then continue raggedly. The knowledge of her effect on him hardened her
resolve to see the game through to its finish.

“Weeks of sexual torture…” Dalton’s eyes slid to hers as he
unbuttoned his shirt. “The teasing, the taunts…” He pulled the shirt from his
pants and off his arms, dropping it without a glance. “You touching, taking…”
He toed off his boat shoes. “Always in charge…” He slipped his wallet out of
his back pocket and set it on the nightstand. “Always off-limits…” He slowly
unzipped his pants and pushed them, along with his briefs, down and off.

Dom sucked in her breath at the sight of his arousal. She’d
seen his body before, arrogantly handled it, but tonight was different. Tonight
she would willingly relinquish control to the man who’d stimulated her
fantasies…and finally feel the hard proof of his desire. Shakily, she licked
her lips and watched Dalton’s mouth curve into a wicked smile.

Chapter Seventeen

God, she was beautiful.

And tonight, finally, she’d be his. Dalton squeezed his eyes
shut in an effort to maintain control. He’d wanted this woman for too long to
lose it now. Dammit, he wasn’t a horny teenager. After several calming breaths,
he opened his eyes and reached for his wallet. Willing his hands to stop
shaking, Dalton slipped out a condom and dropped the wallet.

He met Domino’s dark gaze as he ripped open the packet.
Carefully, he rolled the condom onto his erection, the muscles in his stomach
shuddering at the contact. Dalton looked up from the task to see her staring at
his sheathed cock. He fought against the impulse to take her in a sex-starved
frenzy.

Dalton moved onto the bed, kneeling between her spread legs
and looking his fill. The scent of her desire made him dizzy with need and he
bit back a groan. Reaching out, he ran his fingers across her perfect breasts.
Her skin was damp, her nipples hard under his fingertips. She moaned and
writhed, her hands loosening on the bed board.

“Don’t let go,” he ordered, borrowing another page from
Mistress Bella’s tutorial, “unless you’re hoping to be punished.” He watched
Domino’s stubborn little chin come up as she took a firmer hold on the metal
rail. “Good girl,” Dalton praised and almost laughed at the flash of temper in
her eyes.

He caressed and molded her breasts for several moments
before leaning down to take one nipple into his mouth. Her gasp made the blood
sing in his ears. Dalton gently bit the sensitive flesh and she arched off the
bed. Then he sucked deeply, awed by Domino’s response. Greedy for more, he
pressed her breasts together and laved both nipples with the flat of his
tongue. He lingered, teasing and tasting his fill.

“Please.”

Her breathy plea made him throb. Why was he torturing them
both? Releasing her breasts, he slid a hand down her trembling stomach to the
wet prize between her legs.

Letting his fingers explore her hot juncture, Dalton kissed
his way down her restless body. He trailed his lips over her abdomen and felt a
rush of masculine satisfaction as her sweet skin quivered at his touch.
Gripping her bottom, he tilted Domino’s hips and pressed his mouth to her most
private place.

“Dalton!”

Urged on by her gasping cry, he ran his tongue over her
swollen flesh, feasting on her. Hungry for her every moan, he drove her higher.
Domino twisted and bucked, whether in an effort to escape or get closer, he’d
never know.

“Now.”

Her command made him smile even as it echoed his own frantic
need. The little tyrant was as desperate as he. Shaking, Dalton slid up her
body and took her mouth with more passion than finesse. “Mistress Bella’s not
here tonight.” He settled between her legs and brushed his chest against
Domino’s welcoming body. “I decide what happens and when.”

Dalton rubbed his erection against her wet opening before
sliding just the head of his cock inside. He paused, wanting to maintain his dominance,
but Domino curled her hips and drove him deeper.

“Damn!” Dalton’s tenuous control snapped and he surged into
her tight heat.

She cried out his name, folding her long legs around him. In
a carnal flash, he was swamped with the need to possess her totally.
His…Domino
was his.
The thin veneer of civilization between him and his primitive
ancestors evaporated and Dalton took her with a passion close to madness.

“Yes, God, yes!”

Domino’s cries fanned his sexual frenzy. She met his hard
thrusts, her nails digging into his back. He felt the first spasms of her
climax and lifted his head to watch her. Pulsing waves of pleasure rolled
through her, each reflected in her face, and it was the most beautiful thing
he’d ever seen.

She screamed his name, her snug sheath triggering the most
explosive orgasm of his life. Dalton roared as the powerful release convulsed
his body. He buried his face in her neck and rode the waves, complete and one
with Dominique.

As their shuddering waned and their breathing slowed, Dalton
realized she was stroking his back, soothing him through the aftershocks of his
climax.
Some conquering caveman.
Despite his efforts to dominate her,
they’d come together as partners in the most intense sexual experience he’d
ever had. Was this what it was like to make love? He resolutely pushed the
thought away.

With sensuous slowness, Dalton slipped out of her but he
wasn’t willing to relinquish their closeness. So he rolled her with him onto
their sides and tucked her face into his shoulder.

To his supreme relief, she didn’t try to talk. Maybe Domino
was as dazed as he by their lovemaking…that is, by the sex. Dalton frowned.
Whatever you called what they’d just enjoyed, he wasn’t ready to analyze it to
death. He just knew he was happy and satisfied and contented in a way he could
never remember being. It felt like coming home.

Domino floated, dreamy and relaxed, cocooned by his warmth
and his all-male scent. A stranger to snuggling, she luxuriated in the new
sensation of feeling cherished in Dalton’s arms. Before, sexual experiences had
been a physical act for her, with no emotions muddying the waters. Here, with
Dalton, she felt connected on a level her grandmother would label “spiritual”.

She opened her mouth to tell him how different, how special,
their lovemaking had been, but she couldn’t form the words. While her body was
alive with the aftershocks of their passion, her mind seemed stun-gunned. So
Dom simply pressed her lips against his chest, right over his heart.

Dalton stroked his hand up her arm to her cheek. With a
gentleness that surprised her, he brushed her hair back from her face. She
turned her head and kissed his bandaged palm.

“What happened to your hand?” she asked.

Dalton held up his palm as though seeing it for the first
time. “It was tricky using your switchblade to cut the tape.” She made a
concerned noise but he jumped in before she could speak. “It’s just a scratch,
but the switchblade was logged in as evidence. Sorry.”

Domino almost said she didn’t give a damn about the knife as
long as he was safe but stopped. Now that the sexual afterglow was fading, she
suspected she’d been romanticizing their lovemaking. If she admitted her
feelings to Dalton, he’d probably leave skid marks on her carpet in his haste
to escape. It was time to turn the conversation to a safer topic.

“So Salvi and his goons are in jail?” She shifted to lie
across Dalton’s chest so she could watch his expression. His jaw tightened
before he answered her.

“For now. But given the high-priced lawyer they called, I bet
they’re out on bail by morning. The DEA turned them over to Metro PD and my
captain handled the interrogation with me.” Dalton stopped and shot her a
sheepish grin. “I’m in hot water since I was investigating the club against
orders.”

“Imagine that,” Domino said, “you not following commands.”

“Smart-ass.” He gave her bottom a squeeze.

Their gazes met in a shared amusement that turned hot in an
instant. Dom broke eye contact and asked another question.

“Did Salvi, Hobart or Joey admit they’d kidnapped you?”

Dalton looked disgusted. “No. They wouldn’t speak at all
’til the lawyer arrived. Then they claimed they were innocent.”

Dom nodded, her chin rubbing his dark chest hair. “Hobart
and Joey are probably less afraid of jail than of Salvi.”

“They all deny even knowing I was in the trunk, much less
putting me there,” Dalton said, “which is a joke since Hobart’s prints are all
over the strapping tape.”

“Did Salvi or his lackeys say anything about your partner?”

Dalton clenched his unbandaged hand. “No, they clammed up.
Salvi swore he was in New York the weekend Jason was killed.”

“Easy enough to check, I guess,” Domino mused. “If he was
out of town, he was probably meeting with the Cabazones.”

“So the DEA
is
following up a connection between the
crime family and the Xecutive Branch. We heard some rumors.” Dalton looked
pleased to have his suspicions verified.

“Nice to know the DEA’s work is so covert.”

Dalton grinned at her sarcastic tone. “Well, my captain and
your boss are setting up a joint investigation of the club—
despite
the
fact the DEA originally instructed Tori Preston not to cooperate with the
police.”

She fought a smile. “Heard about that, did you?”

He gave her a look that probably scared seasoned criminals.
“Don’t you think getting the whole story from Jason’s dominatrix would have
helped our case?”

“Half the D.C. government bigwigs belong to the club,
including a couple in your captain’s chain of command,” Dom stated. “We weren’t
sure who Tori could trust.”

Before he could answer, Dalton’s stomach rumbled long and
loud, making her chuckle. “Hungry?”

“Starved. I could eat that scrawny excuse for a drug dog in
your living room,” he joked.

“If you promise to stop dissing my partner, I’ll feed you,”
Dom shot back as she scooted to the edge of the bed.

Trying not to feel self-conscious about her nudity, Domino
walked to the closet and slipped on a worn, gray sweat suit. Turning, she
watched as Dalton disposed of the condom in her trash can, pulled up his pants
and stepped into his boat shoes. His body made her pulse stutter, despite the
scars he’d collected during his years in law enforcement.

“How about pizza delivery, my treat?” Dalton suggested as he
slipped his wallet into his back pocket.

“I have deli sandwich makings in my fridge,” she
counteroffered. “It’d be quick and I’ve got this great spicy mustard.”

“Spicy is good,” he said.

For a moment their eyes fused and the temperature in the
room soared. Looking away, Domino swung open the bedroom door. Smokey sat,
disgruntled, on the floor outside her room.

“C’mon, you furry busybody,” Dom coaxed. “I’ve got a piece
of ham with your name on it.”

With a sniff, Smokey got up and trailed behind her to the
kitchen, ignoring Dalton, who followed. After tossing the dog a slice of
honey-glazed ham, Dom set the mixings for the ultimate Dagwood sandwich on her
claw-footed oak table. In companionable silence, they worked to build several
impressive sandwiches that oozed condiments along with the requisite meat and
cheese.

Piling their dinner, several beers and a bag of chips onto
two trays, they carried the feast into Dom’s living room. Smokey wandered after
them, hoping for another treat. Setting the trays on her coffee table, they sat
next to each other on her brushed corduroy sofa. Dalton opened their beers and
tossed the dog a couple of potato chips.

Domino grinned. So the big, bad cop liked animals. It didn’t
surprise her. There was an innate kindness under Dalton’s gruffness. She
offered Smokey another slice of ham, which he gobbled up. Then she gave her
canine partner the hand signal that sent the pooch to his doggie bed in the
corner. Smokey curled up, yawned wide and shut his eyes.

Smiling, Domino picked up her dripping sandwich using both
hands. Dalton followed suit and they ate for a while without talking. The quiet
was comfortable not awkward.

When he took a long swallow of his beer, Dom watched the
play of his Adam’s apple and the corded strength of his neck. She flushed and
decided to blame it on the spicy mustard.

“So, how did you end up in the DEA?” Dalton asked.

Domino took a moment to choose her words. “I didn’t have a
lot of close friends when I was in school,” she began, “but there was one girl
who really seemed to understand, you know, my teenage angst.” Dom shrugged.
“Her name was Elly and she got hooked on crack in high school thanks to a jerk
she was dating.”

Dom set down the second half of her sandwich, feeling the
rush of pain that always accompanied thoughts of her friend. “I tried to help
her, tried to tell her what he was doing to her, but Elly…she thought I was
jealous because she had a boyfriend and I didn’t. The weekend Elly turned
sixteen, she rolled her car down an embankment. She was high as a kite and
ended up killing herself and the jerk who’d given her the drugs.”

Dalton covered her hand with his warm, comforting palm.

“Losing Elly to drugs helped me set my sights on the DEA,”
she explained. “But given my family’s sense of justice and the fact that a
number of my cousins and uncles are cops, I probably would’ve ended up in law
enforcement anyway.”

Domino turned over her hand and intertwined her fingers with
his. “How about you? Why Metro PD?”

“Family too,” he answered. “Pop, Grandpop and Great-Grandpop
were cops. If you were born a male Cutter, that’s what you did. We live and
breathe to be cops.”

“Must have been tough on the female Cutters,” she remarked.

Dalton’s eyes hooded. “I wouldn’t know. When the going got
tough, the women in my family cut their losses and run.” She began to ask what
he meant but Dalton interrupted her. “I enjoy being a cop…at least I did until
Jason was killed.”

Domino squeezed his hand, hoping he would keep talking.

“He was more than a partner—he was my best friend.” Dalton
looked down at their joined hands. “We must have saved each other’s lives ten
times. But when I heard I was up for the sex club assignment, I talked him into
drawing straws for it.” Dalton stopped, cleared his throat and finished his
confession. “He ended up on the case and now he’s dead.” He met her eyes. She
could see the terrible pain he was carrying. “Jason’s dead and it’s my fault.”

“No,” Dom insisted, but he pressed his finger to her lips.
She wanted to tell him he wasn’t to blame but he wasn’t ready to hear the
words. And she remembered how he’d told her the Xecutive Branch was
his
bust. Dalton wouldn’t give up until Jason’s murderers were punished.