Dom Wars: Round 6 (17 page)
Authors: Lucian Bane,Aden Lowe
Tags: #Bdsm, #Erotica, #Literature & Fiction
The awful memories of what we’d endured in that room filled my muscles until they were gripped in an impossible dominance that said never let her go, literally.
At some point, Tara became the only key with the power to unlock that shit. Pushing me onto my back, she kissed me deeply, passionately, possessively. She took hold of my fears and crushed them with her lips and tongue, bound them as she held my arms on the bed and moved like liquid passion, until my body obeyed her commands. Come undone for her. Come undone for her, that’s what she kept whispering in my mouth.
Do it, come undone for me.
I broke free of her hold and took back control, claiming her waist with an iron grip, ruthlessly slamming the head of my cock against her core until she was the one, she was the victim of my passion, the prisoner of my love. Slave to my undying love, my arrogant and impossible desire. I clamped a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her to my mouth and kissed her. Kissed her as I came undone. Kissed her as I surrendered it all. Surrendered all in exchange for her. All of her. Fucking always and forever.
We slept in that aftermath, clinging to each other for many glorious hours. Dimly, I heard the phone ringing in the next room. Which was too fucking bad, wasn’t it?
We recovered slightly and got cleaned up, food our next priority. Wrapped in fluffy hotel robes, we made it to our sitting room before the phone rang again. This time I answered.
“Hi Lucian,” Steve’s cheery voice greeted me.
I smiled despite my annoyance at the interruption. “Hey Steve. What’s up?”
“Oh, great. Just great.” He gave an odd little cough. “The company asked me to call you and Preacher. They want to start the closing ceremony in an hour. Everything you need is in your dressing room. I’ll be up in forty-five minutes to escort you down to the dining room.”
Great. Part of me wanted to rebel just on general principal, but more of me just wanted to get it the fuck over with. “Okay, man. We’ll be ready.”
Chapter Eighteen
Tara slid her heels on just as Steve knocked at the door. We met up with Preacher and Becca at the elevator and we greeted each other like long lost family.
“You clean up nice,” I said to Preacher.
His deep rich laughter rolled out as we stepped into the elevator. “Likewise, my brother.”
“Steve.” Preacher shook Steve’s hand then brought their shoulders together for a brotherly bump. “God’s got great plans for you, little brother.”
Steve chuckled. “Little? I’m your senior, I do believe.”
Preacher laughed. “Not in my realm.”
The elevator door shut and Steve slid his hands over the silk lapels of his black tuxedo. “I hope God’s plans don’t include anymore near death vacations.”
“You look like a queen,” Tara whispered to Becca.
Yeah, she did, Tara was right there. Royal purple fit the woman’s color and regal stature. Her hair was no longer in those rows of scalp braids but brushed smooth and twisted to one side.
Becca beamed at Tara. “And you look like the Indian princess?”
Tara’s eyes popped. “Indian?” Her gush of laughter followed, riding my dick. “Do you mean Pocahontas?” Tara nodded and wagged a finger at her. “I’ll take that. I like her.”
I smiled at Tara. She definitely looked like a fucking princess in that white gown. “You look like a bride to me.” I gave her a huge grin. “Hint hint.”
“Baaahaha.” She linked her arm in mine. “Shall we head to the court house after we collect our winnings?”
“
Your
winnings?” Humor lightened Preacher’s voice.
Tara eyed his back. “I’m pretty sure me and Becca are going to be named top Doms for putting up with you knuckle heads.”
Me and Preacher let it rip on that one.
“She makes a fine point,” Steve said.
The second the elevator doors slid open, cameras began flashing in our eyes and reporters thrust microphones at us and shouted questions.
Four police officers in uniform, including Officer Nagao, closed ranks around us and escorted us down a broad corridor. We paused before a set of magnificent French doors, then stepped through into a massive banquet room. The place was packed to the brim with people in formal evening wear. A broad aisle led to a raised dais at the far end of the room, set with a long table.
The officers led us up onto the dais to join two other contestant couples and a handful of Gladiator execs with their dates. When we were all seated, an emcee took up a position at the end of the dais and cleared his throat and jumped right into the night’s affairs, thank fuck.
“We at Gladiator, Inc., are incredibly saddened that the Final Round of Dom Wars led to tragedy. Our thoughts and prayers are with those families who lost loved ones. We deeply regret that one deranged individual was able to turn this contest into a private vendetta that touched so many people. Let us have a moment of silence out of respect for our fallen contestants.”
The lights dimmed and a huge screen at the opposite end of the hall came on. Mournful music filled the room as snapshots and short feed clips of the people Duff had slain were displayed on the screen. At the conclusion, a minister led a solemn prayer, also on the screen.
When the lights came back up, my stomach churned. A total of five people had died, including the guy on the boat and Duff—neither of whom were mentioned—and the best this company could do was put together a commemorative video they would make money off of. Fucking ridiculous. And now they would go right on with business as usual.
Another video started, this time summarizing each team’s stay on the island. Finally, the emcee seemed ready to move on. “As you’re all aware, the winning team had to get past Jase Duff and successfully reach the boat. Of course circumstances prevented things from going as planned. Even so, Preacher Dom’s team, including Lucian Bane and Tara Reese, which he purchased at auction, was able to reach the boat. Only Mistress Helga’s team also completed crossing the island, but they were unable to traverse the beach and reach the boat.”
More video, this time showing the trials and tribulations at every flag we got. We watched in mild amusement as I rode Preacher’s shoulders twice, and the audience roared in laughter at his
tired of doing fucking ballet here Bane
comment. Applause erupted at the water fall rescue with me and Preacher, and again at the basket weaving and pulling up the rock bearing the flag from the lagoon..
“Wow!” Steve clapped, nodding at us. “I must’ve been in transition when you did that one! Bravo!”
The clips finally ended with us reaching the boat and the emcee leaned to the microphone once more. “When we began this game to find the world’s Top Dom, we at Gladiator Inc had a personality in mind. He would be strong on every level. Physically, mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually. But something amazing happened while we partook in these wars with this team.” He held a hand toward us. “This team taught the world something that we feel is worth broadcasting across the globe tonight to all of our listeners. And that being… real dominance isn’t always measured in muscle. Nor is it always measured in intelligence. But rather it is measured…” he tapped his chest. “In heart.” He stretched his hand out toward us again. “Ladies and gentlemen of the world over watching via satellite tonight… we present to you, not one… not two… not even
three.
But
four
Top Doms! That’s right, you heard correctly. We are awarding these four contestants
each
one million dollars.”
The room, erupted in applause with Tara and Becca jumping up and down hugging. I stood when Preacher did and we exchanged fierce hugs. “God is good, isn’t he my brother? Bet you never saw that one coming.”
I couldn’t resist the joy of his words and it rode out on unbidden laughter as camera flashes created a strobe effect that made my head spin.
“We did it, Lucian!”
Tara jumped into my embrace and I swung her around. “We fucking did, didn’t we?”
“We can bring Gramma home,” she cried.
“Yes, we can.” I kissed her and the audience responded with roaring applause. “We can bring Gramma home.”
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