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Destined for the Dom(6)

By:Jan Bowles



“Is that where you went, when you left St. Mark’s? The Marines?”

“Yeah, I signed up for ten years.”

“No wonder you never—” Zoë stopped speaking abruptly.

“Yeah, I know, I never came back for you like I promised.” Hunter finished the sentence for her. “I guess I was a kid with foolish ideas. I joined the Marines thinking it would make a man of me. It did, but it messed with my head, too. For most of those ten years I wasn’t a nice guy to know.”

Looking genuinely concerned, she said, “I’m guessing you’ve seen some terrible things, Hunter?”

He sighed. “Yeah, but I don’t dwell on them.” He knew his curt answer gave him away. Even after all these years, Zoë understood him. She’d know in an instant the pain and trauma he’d suffered. The things he’d seen as a Marine impacted his life on a daily basis. It was hard to erase the terrible images from his mind. Her eyes narrowed on him, but she didn’t say anything in reply.

The pert-breasted waitress returned with his bourbon and placed it on the table. He handed her a fifty-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you, Sir. You enjoy your evening now.”

“I will.” He turned his attention back to Zoë. “As an Air Marshal, I have to be an excellent judge of people. I need to be able to sort the good guys from the bad guys. I can tell you hate your life and your job.” He took her hands in his, and twisted them palm up. He touched her wrists with his thumbs. “Even these leather bracelets can’t hide the bruising on your wrists. I’m sure a guy did this to you.” As soon as he said the words, she snatched her hands away.

“He’s history.”

Hunter took a slug of bourbon. “Good, I’m glad. You always did have your head screwed on, Peaches.”

Zoë’s face lit up at his use of her pet name, her eyes sparkled with pleasure. He’d often called her that when they’d been in care together. It had helped cement a bond between them.

“Peaches—you remembered.”

“How could I forget?”

He watched her shoulders loosen as she began to relax in his company. “So when do you go back to wherever it is you live?”

“I live in Boston, I fly back tomorrow.”

“Oh, so this is just a flying visit?”

“Quite literally. Maybe I can take you home when you’ve finished here.”

“You can take me home, but there won’t be any freebies handed out, not even to an old friend.” Zoë was so cynical.

“Whoa now, Peaches. You got the wrong idea about my visit.”

“Have I? So all those times I used to catch you secretly looking at me when I was fifteen or sixteen. They were all in my imagination?”

“No, of course not. When you became older, I don’t deny I found you attractive.”

“I know you did. Those times when I’d take a bath and you and Jake would spy on me through a hole in the wall.”

He laughed. “I didn’t think you knew we did that. We thought we were being really discreet.”

“Well, not discreet enough. I was well aware you were both spying on me, and I kinda enjoyed the attention. Why do you think I used to spend so much time getting out of the tub, and drying myself? I knew you were both watching me with your cocks in your hands. You haven’t changed in the last fourteen years, Hunter. Even now you can’t stop your eyes drifting to my breasts.” Zoë had never been afraid to say what she thought.

“Well, if you will sit seminaked in front of me, I’ve got no choice. I’m a guy. Tits and ass are hardwired into my brain.”

“At least you’re honest, which is more than I can say for the rest of the guys in here. Most of them have got wives or girlfriends waiting at home for them, which leads me to my next question.”

Before she could ask, Hunter spoke. “There’s no one else. I’m not the settling-down type.”

“That’s too bad. You’re a good-looking guy. You’ve filled out an awful lot since I last saw you. Why don’t you have a woman in your life?”

“It would take one special woman to understand me.” Hunter’s sexual and emotional needs were only fully satisfied at Club Submission.

Her eyes drifted over him, and she nodded perceptibly. “Too much emotional baggage from the Marines.”

“You could say.” Not wanting to discuss himself further, he breathed in and changed the subject. “So what time do you finish tonight? We’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Two.”

His flight back to Boston left at ten in the morning. That only gave him a few hours to get to know her again. “I’ve got a better idea. How much do you normally make?”

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