Diablo Blanco Club 2, Under Control Read Online Free

end tonight.
    “A fucking waste,” Vance growled, avoiding looking into the cheval mirror situated next to the armoire. He knew what he looked like, and he had little desire to meet the gaze of the bastard he‟d become. After another gulp, he set the bottle beside the key on the table and crossed the room to remove what he needed from the armoire.
    14
    Qwillia Rain
    Despite the Club‟s rules regarding punishment play, since the early days of his training, he‟d received special permission from Bryce for what he required. After introducing Ben to the Club and to Bryce, his permission had continued probably due to his choice of partner rather than his offer of security in exchange for the dispensation.
    As long as it permitted him to regain the control he‟d lost and needed to allow him to feel like a man again, Vance couldn‟t give a shit.
    Wrenching open the cabinet doors, he lifted black leather cuffs from a shelf, pulled open a drawer to collect the coiled whip, and then let his fingers hover over the ball gag before deciding Ben would never use it. Hell, it was going to be hard enough to convince him… Vance shook his head and shied away from going there. A second, smaller whip that was more in line with the multistrand floggers joined its larger cousin in his grip.
    “Take it one step at a time, soldier,” he ordered himself, carefully closing the drawer and cabinet before moving to drop the tools on the bed.
    The seat of the straight-backed chair was firm, with very little cushioning beneath the black leather, but Vance barely noticed it as he leaned forward and began to strip the laces from the hooks of his boots. He cursed as his left hand fumbled slightly. The dexterity in his fingers had been reduced by his injuries. The healing wounds along his left hip and thigh protested with sharp twinges, but he ignored them. Drawing on or pushing past his pain had gotten him through the hardest tests in his life. He was determined that this one wouldn‟t be any different. Standing the polished footgear beside the chair with the laces carefully tucked inside, he wondered how long it would take him to lose the habit of keeping everything neatly stored away. If he accepted the diagnosis of the surgeons and physical therapists, he didn‟t have a future in the Marines. Not as a soldier, at least.
    Signing away the career he‟d based his life plans on would be difficult, but he expected it would be. Setting aside the rigorous discipline he‟d learned during his ten years in the Marines could begin with the simple relaxing of long-held habits. Leaving Diablo Blanco Club: Under Control
    15
    laces untucked might be the first step toward abandoning ten years of hard work. If the life of his men and himself didn‟t depend on him staying in top physical condition, he could stop practicing his daily routines. A snort of wry humor escaped him as he realized that if he could stop finding reasons to keep waking up each morning, he wouldn‟t have to worry about losing control again. Keeping his body and mind in top physical and mental condition wouldn‟t be an option or a concern.
    If he were a quitter.
    “Marines don‟t quit,” he told the empty room.
    He rose to strip off his black cotton shirt, wincing at the pull the motion caused in the recent scars peppering his side and back. The red stripe along his throat wasn‟t the only memento he‟d received on his last mission.
    “Ben‟s gonna pitch a fit when he sees this.” He chuckled without amusement as he glanced down at the two recently healed gunshot wounds on his chest and the starburst pattern of marks left behind by shrapnel.
    He squeezed his left fist and grimaced at how weak it felt. The resistance from the healing muscles and ligaments in his forearm had him gritting his teeth in frustration.
    Suddenly, the image of tear-filled cobalt eyes flashed across his mind, freezing the breath in his lungs. He could almost feel the soft stroke of Aimee‟s fingertips