Bound to Submit (Miami Masters 4)

Unable to control herself, Hope exploded in a torrent of ecstasy, gyrating on the seat as he held her immobile with not only his hands, but his soul-searching gaze. She shook with the impact of pleasure unlike anything she’d experienced before, her inner muscles spasming around the tiny vibrator with repeated clutches, her nipples pulsing right along with her core. A horn honked as the hot, pleasurable tremors engulfing her took their time receding. It wasn’t until the very last convulsions that had torn up and down her pussy settled into low throbs that she remembered where they were and went rigid with alarm.

“Relax.” Releasing her face, Miles assisted Hope off the bike and pulled her close, unable to resist feeling those soft curves pressing against him one more time. “No one knew what was going on, if anyone even saw. The shelter is dark, your residents already bedded down, or at least settled in for the night. I know what I’m doing, Hope.” At least, he thought he did. Right now, with his body raging at him for relief, he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t recall a time, or a woman, who had such a profound effect on him, one who threatened his iron-clad control by just watching her orgasm.

“I-I need to get inside.” Her breathless plea tugged at both his cock and his chest.

“Yes, you do.” Stepping back, he clasped her elbow, escorted her up to the door and waited while she fished keys out of her pocket and unlocked it. “I’ll see you at class on Thursday. Plan on staying late.”

Miles didn’t wait for her to answer. He pivoted, straddled the Harley again, and this time didn’t bother with the helmet as he drove the two blocks down to his gym, his cock a stiff, painful reminder of how the night had gone. His plan to start the evening with a lesson in giving up control when he’d instructed Hope to remove her jeans had damn near robbed him of his. Removing a woman’s panties had never made his heart beat so fast or engorged his cock so quickly. Kneeling between her legs with his face right in front of the blonde curls that already glistened with her slick cream and did little to shield the swollen folds of her labia, he’d come close to skipping his plans in favor of burying himself balls deep inside her.

With a mental shake of his head, he cursed himself for being a fool, wondering yet again what it was about her that made her different from any other woman he’d taken a sexual interest in. Every time he saw her, he recalled the determined glint in her eyes when Zach asked about Sandie. Despite her bruised face and swollen wrist from a thug demanding information about Sandie’s whereabouts, Hope had presented a backbone of steel and protectiveness toward her friend he’d only seen in himself and his friends. He knew the reasons for their over-protective bearings, which made him suspicious of Hope’s past, and what had happened that compelled her to take risks with her own safety in order to shield someone in trouble.

But none of that explained the driving urge to bend her to his will, take her so hard, so deep, she’d forget anyone who had come before him. He didn’t care for the primitive need she brought out in him and shored up his determination to rid himself of it during this brief liaison.

Miles spotted Jake’s SUV parked in front of the gym as he rode around to the back and pulled into the small garage he’d added a few years ago. He hoped this visit meant his friend had found a place for the kid Miles picked up last week. He found Jake sitting with Ed in the gym’s kitchenette, and from the concern reflected on the cop’s face, he knew he wasn’t going to like what Jake had to say.

“What?” he snapped.

“Good news and bad news,” Jake stated without preamble. “I found a good foster home for Joaquin, but the kid’s so terrified of the gang his older brother runs with, and his brother, he can’t sleep and is causing trouble at school. I’ve been trying to track down the brother, dad’s serving time and mom’s nowhere around. Not surprising.”

“This is the kid from last week, I assume. Do you know which gang the brother runs with?” Miles made sure he avoided glancing at Ed. His mentor possessed an over-protective streak himself, and Ed fretted whenever Miles paid a visit to a gang to ensure the safety of a kid he had given a way out to.

“That’s the one. Brother’s name is Mateo Sanchez, he’s nineteen and runs with the Swords. That’s all we’ve been able to get out of Joaquin. The gang task force knows to keep an ear out, but I thought you might be faster at putting the fear of God—and you and me—into him.”

The city had made big strides in curbing gang activity and Miles had been in on getting numerous programs starting at the kindergarten level up and running. But if the older brother was already of legal age, odds were he’d been a gang member for most of his teen years and the best they could hope for would be his cooperation in freeing his brother from their clutches.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Miles—”

Miles waved his hand, cutting off Ed’s complaint. “I know what I’m doing, Ed, and I’m careful. I have to try.”

Ed released a resigned sigh. “Yeah, I know. But, I don’t have to like it.”

“No, you don’t.” Turning to Jake, he said, “If you can manage not to look so much like a cop, you can ride along with me.”

Jake rose and flipped Ed a look of feigned compassion. “You deserve a medal for putting up with him. Come on, Miles, let’s go for a ride and I’ll try to hide who I am well enough to fool some punk ass teens.”

“That’s all I ask. Don’t wait up, Ed, I mean it.”

“Since when do you to tell me what to do, boy?” Ed growled.

“Since I took over this place and you retired. It’s my turn to look out for you. I’ll see you in the morning.” Miles swung around and returned to the garage, Jake right behind him as they climb

ed into his souped-up Charger.

“Is the muscle car necessary?” Jake asked, buckling in.

“Yes.” The engine roared to life, the missing mufflers drawing a look of censure from Jake.

“How many tickets have you gotten in this thing?” he asked as Miles backed out of the garage and rolled down the alley.

“Several. Did Joaquin say he was picking up the drugs for Mateo?”

Jake shook his head. “Not in so many words, but we both know how to read between the lines. The father went up for dealing last month, but Joaquin’s still been attending school, so he’s not lost yet. If you threaten Mateo, don’t do it in front of witnesses, including me.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo,” Miles drawled. Keeping his eyes peeled for activity, it didn’t take long to come across a couple of teens out to cause trouble on a Friday night. Slowing down, he pulled alongside the pair and rested his arm on the open window, making sure his gang tattoo couldn’t be missed. When the pair widened their eyes as they caught sight of the skull and crossbones etched in black, a look of fear replaced their cocky attitudes.

“You two ever heard of Mateo, with the Swords?”

Both teens shrugged but Miles caught the flash of recognition the name evoked. Nodding, he stated in a hard tone, “You tell him to forget about Joaquin.” Not waiting for an answer, he sped away, leaving the two gaping at his taillights.

Jake chuckled. “That’s it?”

With a shrug, Miles turned down the next street. “I deliver the same message to a few more, word will spread, and my past rep will either force him to back off or he’ll come to me, at which time I’ll deliver one personally.”

“We’ve known each other, what? Two years now?” Jake shook his head in bemusement. “I still don’t get why you don’t let the past go and enjoy your success without dredging it up with these little side gigs.”

Jake was the only person, other than Miles’ small group of friends, who knew about his sealed juvenile record, and the day he’d arrived home too late to stop his father from taking out his rage on his mother one final time. To this day, Miles couldn’t remember the pain of the small knife his father used on his mother then on his face when his old man came after him, or grappling with him until he grabbed a lamp and swung. It was easy to recall the smell of blood, to picture Dave Cavenaugh’s hate-filled black eyes rolling back in his head as he lay on the floor next to his battered wife and bled out, to hear his tortured sobs as he leaned over his mother and begged her to look at him.