Tearing Down Walls (Love Under Construction Series Book 2) (23 page)

“Oh, my god, Vic! You have nothing to be sorry for! If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t even be here! I’d be dead out there in that street, lying there with a tarp over me. And I wet my pants too, so there’s that little bit of embarrassment!” she laughed. She got a tiny smile out of him on that one.

Then he straightened and stared at her. “Wait – tarp. How did you know about the tarp?”

Laura was careful with her words. “I need to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you tell Tony to get the AED out of your trunk?”

Vic gave her a strange look. “Yeah? How did you . . .”

“And he cut my shirt off. And he told you to watch out when he cut it, because you were doing chest compressions on me.”

Vic couldn’t help but stare. “Yeah. But how . . .”

“And you told him I had on an underwire bra and told him to cut it off. And that was my favorite bra, so I’m still kind of pissed about that.”

Vic couldn’t say anything – he didn’t know what to say. He looked like someone had just slammed him in the back of the head with a skillet.

“I saw it all. Every bit of it. I saw you and Tony and Peyton. I heard you tell me to come back, and how sorry you were that you hadn’t protected me well enough.” Vic turned pink.

“And I saw when you . . . when you . . .” She couldn’t say it. It was her moment to blush, and she turned away.

“What? What’s wrong? What else did you see?” Vic asked, trying to figure out what was going on. He was very confused. How could she know all of that?

“Vic,” Laura said, taking a deep breath, “I saw everything. It was like I was hovering above all of us. And I saw how . . . how they stared when . . .” She stopped. The words just wouldn’t come out, and she was so ashamed that she couldn’t breathe or swallow. She felt like she was drowning.

His voice was satiny-smooth. “Don’t, honey. Don’t do that to yourself. They weren’t prepared, that’s all. It was surprising to them.”

“But you didn’t.” She wished she could cry; god, she wished she could cry. “You didn’t stare, and you didn’t get sick or run away or make a rude comment.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it’s so ugly.
I’m
so ugly. I’m sorry; that must have been hard for you, so disgusting. I wish you’d known so you wouldn’t have seen that.”

A tear trickled down one of Vic’s cheeks, and he reached up and pushed a strand of hair out of Laura’s eyes. “I hate hearing you talk about yourself that way. There’s nothing ugly about you. You’re beautiful. Don’t you know that?” His lips trembled and both eyes welled up, and Laura’s heart felt weird, like something tiny and furry was running around in her chest.

“How can you say that? I’m a freak.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m a freak too. Unless there’s an NBA player in the room, I’m the tallest person there. Plus the word ‘beautiful’ gets tossed around when my name is mentioned. Not handsome, or rugged, or good-looking. Beautiful. I guess I could take that as a compliment, but I get tired of other guys being jealous of me, thinking I’m going to steal their women, not trusting me. No wonder the only friends I have are family and working acquaintances. I don’t fit in anywhere. And you think
you’re
a freak? Who’s a freak? Who decides that?”

What was happening here? Laura couldn’t understand what she was feeling and why he was being so nice to her. She didn’t know how to read his face or her own feelings. “I don’t think I’ve ever met any men who were as emotional as the Walters guys. You guys are a breed unto yourselves,” she smiled, shaking her head.

Vic chuckled, wiping his eyes. “It’s the Italian thing. We’re just like that. Can’t help it. Bunch of crybabies.”

“I think it’s wonderful. I wish I could feel. Anything. I’ve been so closed up for so long that I can’t feel a thing. Nothing. Except fear. And that’s sickening.” There – she’d said it.

“I could help you with that,” Vic said in a near-whisper. “But you’d have to trust me, and I wouldn’t blame you if you never trusted me again. I’ve let you down so much.”

“You’ve never let me down. You’ve always been there for me, always been kind, and I’ve been such a . . . yeah, José was right, a bitch. A first rate, four door, brass-plated bitch. So I’m sorry. And I
do
trust you. I trust you more than anyone I know, even Steve.”

“Thanks.” He took her hand and she fought the urge to snatch it away; then he pressed the back of it to his cheek, and there was a fluttering in her stomach. What was that? “You decide if you want me to help you with that. No pressure. It’s up to you, but we’ll have to do it my way. I don’t know any other way to do it. Just let me know.” He stood up to go.

“Vic, I . . .” She didn’t know what to say.

“It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t have to say anything. Just think about it. And what I did for you today?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d do it all over again. In a heartbeat. I’d follow you into certain death if I knew I could keep you alive. Wouldn’t hesitate.” With that, he walked out the door. She could hear his boots going down the hall until the sound was gone. Funny thing, she desperately wanted to hear them coming back toward her. And she wasn’t quite sure why.

There was one thing she was certain about, though. She hadn’t trusted anyone in a long, long time, but she trusted Vic.

“Thanks for everything, brother.” Vic hugged Tony. “You guys need to go home and get some rest, have a quiet evening.”

“We sure do. But I’m glad I was there with you,” Tony said and reached for Nikki’s hand. She took it, then gave Vic a tiny smile, and he smiled back from under those thick, dark lashes.

Steve returned to the waiting room from visiting with Laura. “Bryson’s arranged for three uniforms, two at her door and one in her room at all times. And they’ve got Wagner’s photo, so they’ll know him if they see him. She’ll be safe here.”

Vic was satisfied with that, and everyone headed out, Tony and Nikki to get some rest, Steve and Vic to the club, and Kelly back home.

When they got to the Yukon, Nikki turned to Tony. “What’s going on? Is it what I think?”

“Yep. I think so,” Tony grinned at her, then gave her a tiny kiss as he started the SUV.

“H
ey, gorgeous, you the service Dom here?” a brunette asked Vic as he leaned against the bar. He was wound as tight as a spring, and it showed. Every muscle was tensed, and he couldn’t have been hotter if he’d had flames coming out of his ears.

“Yeah, that’s me. Vic. And you are . . .”

“Jessica.”

“Well, Miss Jessica, what are you looking for tonight?” He leaned toward her and the sex rolling off of him made her gasp.

“I’m not here to get pinched and kissed. I need
way
more than that. Let’s sit down and talk about it, okay?”

“I’m all ears,” Vic said.

“No, you’re not,” she said, looking down at his crotch, the bulge there getting more impressive by the minute.

“True. But let’s talk about what you need, not what I want.” She took him by the hand and he led her to a sofa in the center of the room.

“He’s gonna get more tonight, I feel it,” Doug said to Peyton as they watched him follow her.

“Damn. Maybe I should train as a Dom.”

Doug grinned. “I think you’d be a good one. You’re a nice guy and you’re built; women want that. They wouldn’t look twice at me.”

“Hell, boy, you’re twice as muscled up as me! You’d be a good one to train. Matter of fact, I saw a girl eyeing you while ago. You should pay more attention!” Peyton laughed.

On the sofa, Vic asked Jessica, “So, how can I help you?”

“I’m in need of some kind of direction, and I haven’t had any kind of relief in months,” she purred. “If you’ve got a clamp, I’ve got a body part that wants it.”

“I need some history. What put you here?” Vic asked as he took her hand and led her down the hallway to the private rooms. When she’d decided – she wanted the bedroom with the huge chest of instruments – he went back out and told José that it was reserved, then asked Peyton to stock it.

But on his way back, he ran headlong into Miranda. She put her open palms on his chest and looked up into his face, and he felt his dick stiffen.

“Got a little free time tonight?” she whispered.

“I don’t know. I’ve got a sub to work with right now. Find me later, okay?” Vic thought back to their previous session, and he had to admit that he wanted her. “I’ve got to go right now.”

“Okay. I’ll be watching for you.” She turned away, then turned back to him and blew him a kiss.

When he got back to Jessica, he told her again, “Please, I need to know. Triggers are important.”

Jessica looked down at the floor. “I’m just a born submissive – that’s what I’ve been told anyway. And I don’t have a Dom anymore. And I feel kind of . . .” Vic watched her struggle for words.

“Adrift?”

She nodded. “Like I’m free-falling; like there’s no ground under me.”

He took her chin in his hand and turned her face up to him; she had huge, sweet brown eyes. “We can take care of that right now. Go to the locker room, do whatever you need to, and meet me back there in fifteen, okay?”

“Done.”

“I’d prefer that you begin to use the term ‘sir’ as of right now. Just get in the habit.” He frowned at her and wondered how much actual training she’d had.

“Yes, sir.” A look of mild embarrassment passed over her face before she walked away.

Vic walked into the men’s locker room and took a look in the mirror. He looked a little tired, but otherwise good. Laura flitted across his mind, but he told himself that she was safe in the hospital and she’d be fine. Stroking up the front of his leathers, he felt himself hard and ready. This girl couldn’t be more than twenty-five, and she was flaming sex on a stick. She hadn’t gotten to the room when he walked in, so he took off his shirt, leaned against the bed post, and waited.

Less than two minutes later, she came through the doorway and gasped when she saw his broad, smooth chest. He saw it in her eyes, all of the want she was bringing into the exchange, and he had to admit to himself that he wanted her too. She’d gone into the locker room and removed the bustier she’d been wearing in the big room, her heavy, lush breasts sporting huge, hard nipples, and her wavy, almost-black hair cascading down them. Her tiny waist had a gold chain around it with a heart-shaped charm hanging from it, and it glittered in the low light. She started to speak, but Vic said, “Sub, present yourself to me.” Jessica crossed the room in silence and dropped to her knees, hands on her legs and palms up, knees sweetly apart, shoulders thrown back, breasts jutting out, her nipples pointed toward the ceiling and her head down.

“Nice! You have beautiful breasts. Work on arching your back more so that their display will be even more breathtaking.” A shy smile crossed her face. “From this point on, you will call me sir. Do you have a safeword, sub?” he asked.

“Yes. Negative, sir.”

Vic’s eyebrows shot up. “Hmmm. Why did you choose that, if I might ask?”

“Because it’s longer than ‘red’ or ‘no,’ sir. And in order to use it, I first have to be sure that I want the play to stop. So it discourages bailing, sir.”

Wow – she’d really thought that out. “So am I to understand that your go word is ‘positive?’” he asked, smiling.

“Yes, sir. And my slow down word is ‘uncertain.’”

He chuckled at her. “Hand signals?”

“Yes.” She held up both hands and touched her middle finger to her thumb.

“Very good. Have you had much training?”

“Yes, sir. I’m very durable, sir.”
That’s a word I never thought I’d hear attached to a woman,
Vic thought.

“I’ll be the judge of that. From this moment on, I expect silence from you unless you ask permission to speak, moan, or cry out. And you will want to cry out, I assure you.” He watched and saw every muscle below her waist clench. “Tell me, are you wet for me,
ragazza bella
?”

She sucked in her breath, then whispered, “Yes, sir. I’m dripping wet for you, sir.”

“Crawl over here on your knees and remove my leathers.” He watched as she crawled to him, a gentle sway to her large breasts. She unzipped his leathers and peeled them downward. When she freed his cock, her eyes were even with it, and they got as big as grapefruits. “I see you have an appreciation for my instrument of pleasure?” She nodded. “You may speak and tell me what you think of it.”

“Oh, god, sir, it’s so big! It’s beautiful. I’m a little scared of it, but I want it so much, sir.”

“I look forward to sharing it with you. We will start with the paddle. Stand at the end of the bed with your hands on the footboard and present your ass to me.” She hurried to the bed, grabbed the footboard, and bent over, arching her back so that her ass was turned out and upward.

“Exactly right. Someone
has
trained you well. We’ll begin with twenty strikes, and you’ll count each one. Loudly.”

He rained down a strike on her right ass cheek, and she yelled, “One, sir!” then yelled “Two, sir!” with the second. Vic’s hand glided in its typical circular pattern, and then started again. She counted each strike with enthusiasm until he reached twenty and her ass was a beautiful shade of pink.