Page 10 of Shattered Dreams
The excited barking of his dog, as he entered the quiet home he’d shared with his late wife, brought a smile to Elliot’s face. Rancho had been a mutt Elliot had adopted from the local humane society shortly after Deborah’s passing. A mixed breed with blue heeler, some kind of terrier, and lord knew what else, his boy was always happy to see him when he walked through the door. Rancho hadn’t necessarily healed Elliot’s broken heart, but had helped him along the road to learning to live without Deborah.
“Hey, boy.” He grinned as the dog demanded scratches behind his ears and nearly bowled him over in his exuberance. “I know, I know. Daddy has been gone all day.” He set his keys in small ceramic dish next to the door, along with his wallet and badge. His gun he’d safely store away in his gun safe. While his daughter, Penelope, was now grown and had followed her dad’s footsteps into the army, he still couldn’t break the habit of locking up his piece. Old habits die hard – that was for sure.
Rancho whined next to him, giving him soulful looks.
“Now don’t give me that. You could’ve used your doggie door anytime today.” He shook his head, even as he walked to the back door and opened it. Rancho bolted outside, running down the fence line. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never understand why his dog refused to use the doggie door he’d installed shortly after adopting him. He watched for a few minutes as Rancho sniffed around the yard, then stopped when the neighbor, a history teacher at one of the local high schools, let out her golden retriever. Elliot chuckled as the dogs raced up and down the fence line. Crazy.
Assuring himself that Rancho would be occupied for the next ten minutes and that he could always use the doggie door to come back in, Elliot headed for the shower. It’d been a long day. After his visit to the hospital, he’d been sent out on three more cases which had demanded his undivided attention, but they still hadn’t driven away the image of the lovely Elizabeth on her knees next to her husband’s bed.
He sighed as he locked his gun in the safe inside his walk-in closet, then headed into the master bathroom. Not much had changed in the five years since Deborah’s death. The basket of fancy soaps and bath salts still sat on the back of the toilet, the hairbrush she’d used still sat on her side of the double vanity, even though he’d removed the other personal hygiene items. Hell, even the pristine ivory monogrammed hand towels still hung from the towel bar next to the sinks. He never used them, as they were what his mother would’ve called his Sunday best towels, but he did launder them once every few weeks.
After turning on the shower, he efficiently stripped off his work clothes, hung the coat and pants on a dry-cleaning hanger, before he tossed his dress shirt, socks and underwear into the hamper. But even as he stepped into the steaming shower, the idea of Elizabeth kneeling for him kept tugging at him. Why the hell was he so obsessed with another man’s wife? Why did he want to gather not only her in his arms, but also help take care of her husband? The man didn’t seem like a bad sort and was obviously protective of his wife. So why was Elliot trying to picture a way to make himself fit in the picture? Maybe it was because Max had been upfront about the lifestyle choices that he and his wife lived? Maybe it was his self-enforced celibacy was starting to get the better of him? Surely that was the only reason why he was contemplating what it would be like to have Lizzie or Max under him?
Or maybe at the same time?
He groaned as his dick hardened to press against his belly. The six pack his wife had loved so much was no longer visible, but his job kept him trim, despite the old adage of cops and their love affair with donuts. Cupping himself, he squeezed the base of his dick and gave a slow upward tug. Pleasure swamped him, teased him as he jacked off to the images of two people kneeling at his feet, with hunger in their eyes. It wasn’t a common fantasy of his, but he’d often wondered if another man would know how to suck his cock as well as his wife had. If sinking inside a man’s ass was the same as a woman’s, or hell how it would feel to be on the receiving end. Deborah had shied away from anal play if she wasn’t on the receiving end.
His breath grew choppy as he stroked faster. Would Elizabeth suck him off as her husband fucked him? Or would it be vice versa with him pounding into the other man. He shook his head.Not right away. He needs to heal,he reminded himself.Slow lovemaking might be doable.The very thought of slowly seducing Maxwell, coaxing the man to give over to him had him panting as he fucked his own fist. Would the other man like his nipples sucked, would his neck be sensitive to nibbles?
“Ah, fuck…” He gasped as his balls drew up tight in preparation of his release. Pressing his free hand against the wall of the shower, he braced himself as he bucked against his own grasp. The idea of Max lying in the hospital bed as he worked his way down to the impressive tent under the sheet sent Elliot careening over the edge. A loud shout escaped him as his release slammed into him. Once, twice, then a third time he unloaded against the cool tile. Dropping his head to rest on his raised forearm, he shivered as echoes of pleasure shook his large frame. Damn, he couldn’t remember the last time he'd come that hard. Perhaps it was time to break his dry spell if a mere fantasy could coax that kind of a response from him.
* * *
Later after cleaning up the mess he’d made in the shower, along with a quick wash of his body and hair, Elliot donned a pair of ratty Army sweats and a threadbare t-shirt. He left his feet bare as he made his way downstairs to scrounge around the kitchen for something to eat. He’d pulled out the makings for sandwiches and a bag of chips, before letting Rancho back into the house. The dog went immediately to his water bowl, drank his fill, then flopped into the dog bed stationed in the breakfast nook.
After throwing together a sandwich, he opened the laptop sitting on his kitchen island and one handed pulled up a search engine then entered the words ‘power exchange’ into the browser. He frowned as the results loaded. The first few links were for power exchange companies like the electric company, but further down the page he hit paydirt.
“Power Exchange: A Beginner’s Guide to Dominance and Control.”He clicked on the link and began to read, thirsty for information. But as he read, more questions started to build inside him. What he was reading seemed to be geared toward a female dominant with a male submissive. Which wasn’t exactly the dynamic he’d witnessed earlier with Max and Lizzie. One thing that the article stressed was open honest communication and ways to communicate with your partner without forcing your agenda on them.Makes sense, but how does this relate to what I saw earlier?
He backed out of that article and continued to scroll through the next several pages. Each and everything he read seemed to conflict. He didn’t see himself ever practicing the Gorean way. He might like taking care of the women in his life, but he didn’t want a doormat or a yes Sir type of woman, who jumped the second he barked. He probably leaned more toward the Head of the Household and possibly a dominant. But he’d never see himself proclaiming he was a Master to anyone.A Sir?With his military background, he could easily envision being comfortable with that type of address.
He closed the laptop, his mind buzzing with even more unanswered questions. What type of dynamic did Max share with Lizzie? What kind of power exchange could he, himself, find acceptable? All his research had done was raise more questions. What had Max said? Call his club if he wanted more information?
Closing the bag of chips, he grabbed his phone and walked back into the living room. Sinking down on the couch, he googled Redemption. Taking a deep breath, he dialed the number and waited for someone to answer. Perhaps there was a class he could take? Or even a Dominant on staff he could talk to?
“Redemption, Raine speaking.” The voice on the other end of the phone sounded much mellower than it had when he’d called on official police business. Evidently having his boy-friend home had helped with Raine’s peace of mind.
“Hello, Raine.” He took a deep breath. “This is Detective Elliot Landon.”
“Hey Detective. Did you need to speak to Storm?” His tone became guarded. Not that Elliot could blame him. It was a common reaction to him being an officer of the law.
“Yes, no. Hell, I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna be honest here. I’m not sure why I’m even calling, except Max told me if I had questions, that taking a class at Redemption might answer those concerns.”
“A class?” Jovial speculation seemed to coat Raine’s words.
It figured, the man was probably getting a good laugh at his expense, but he didn’t care at this point. He wanted answers. He leaned his head back, his eyes drifting shut. “Look I know it’s not every day a police officer calls to inquire about BDSM classes, but the internet is almost useless. Too many conflicting opinions and facts. I just am trying to figure out why Lizzie kneels at Max’s bedside.”
There was a long pause before Raine finally spoke again. “You don’t need a class to understand that. She kneels because she wants too, Detective. Her submission is as much a part of her as her dark hair and her blue eyes.”
Elliot opened his eyes. “She’d kneel for anyone?”
“Hell no, submission is earned not demanded.” Raine chuckled. “She’d punch another man in the nuts for even suggesting such a thing. This dynamic between Max and Lizzie goes beyond submission and domination. He loves her, and she loves him. Combine that with the power exchange and there’s a deep bond between them that is hard to duplicate with just any play partner.”
“So how did Max earn it? I can’t imagine he just sprung it on her, and that she was okay with it.” That had Elliot pausing for a moment. How had the other man done that? What kind of test had he had to pass to earn the right to have such a beautiful woman at his feet? And why did he want to figure it out so he could replicate it, and earn the same privilege?
“No, there was no springing of it. But that isn’t my story to tell, Officer Landon. Now if you want to learn how he did it, we can sign you up for a newbie dominant or submissive class – depending upon your bend.”
Elliot frowned, turning the thought over in his brain. Could he take a more subservient role? “I don’t think I could ever be a submissive.”
