Diablo Blanco Club 2, Under Control Read Online Free Page A
along the scars he carried from previous missions. The pain and worry in her gaze had stirred a need inside him that he‟d never experienced with anyone but Ben.
His heart slammed against his ribs as he shook off the memory. He very carefully folded his shirt and placed it on the chair seat. The stretch of his muscles against the newly healed scars on his back had him glancing at the mirror over his shoulder. The scars couldn‟t be seen in the muted light of the room, but he knew where every line had been placed. Each stroke of the whip against his skin had seemed the ultimate in irony: the one punishment his captors had selected was the very method he found most stimulating—and the one least likely to make him break.
16
Qwillia Rain
A brief smile tugged at his lips but flattened out as that memory led to the ones he‟d fought long and hard to suppress. He could feel the rage stirring inside him. His need to conquer the frustration, anger, and pain he felt at his failure to control his body and emotions when Aimee most needed him to was what had brought him here to the Club, but it wasn‟t the only reason he‟d come. Vance also knew it was time to fulfill his promise to Aimee—time to face the man he loved. He loved Ben. Not as a brother in arms or a friend, but as an adult male both emotionally and physically drawn to the older man. More importantly, Ben was the only person he trusted to help him regain control of his need, to harness the beast that was his rage.
Through carefully applied punishment, Ben would be able to help him exorcise the memories that undermined his control. And Ben would also help him fulfill the promise he‟d made to Aimee. Vance shook away his thoughts and continued his preparations.
Next to go were his trousers. The soft twill slid over his skin like a caress until it caught on the hammer of the snub-nosed .38 strapped to his calf. Vance knew Ben would be pissed if he told him how many times in the last six months he‟d held the cold metal to his own temple. But each time he had set it aside at the thought of what his suicide would do to the man he loved.
He folded and stacked his pants on top of his shirt. Stripping his black socks from his feet, he rolled them into a ball and stuffed them down into the top of one boot and filled the other with the holster and gun before moving to collect the bottle of scotch from the table. The liquor burned again as he swallowed a hefty portion and returned to the high-perched king-size bed. As he passed the mirror, he paused and finally stared at his reflection.
He looked the same.
The same black hair peppered with silver. The same dark stubble along his jaw despite his having shaved first thing this morning. The same darkly tanned skin inherited from his father along with the high, flat cheekbones, sharp nose, and square Diablo Blanco Club: Under Control
17
jaw of the Mescalero Apache tribe. After another quick swallow of scotch, he did the one thing he‟d avoided for the past forty-eight hours since he‟d last set the muzzle of his .38 against his temple and come closer to pulling the trigger than ever before. He looked into his own eyes.
His blue-green gaze was dead, lifeless, as he nodded. “Full circle, Aimee. Just like I promised you.”
His eyes flickered to his boot where the .38 was hidden. But the same three reasons not to put twenty cents worth of lead through his gray matter still remained: Ben deserved to be told how Vance felt; Aimee deserved to have a promise kept; and marines didn‟t quit.
He looked himself in the eyes once more. “And I‟m a fucking marine.”
18
Qwillia Rain
Chapter Two
The buzz came earlier than Ben expected. He‟d finished closing out his till and totaling his bottle count and had just begun to help empty the dishwasher when the light under the number three lit up. The bartender relieving him glanced at the panel of panic lights before looking at Ben.
“Vance,” Ben explained, letting the
His heart slammed against his ribs as he shook off the memory. He very carefully folded his shirt and placed it on the chair seat. The stretch of his muscles against the newly healed scars on his back had him glancing at the mirror over his shoulder. The scars couldn‟t be seen in the muted light of the room, but he knew where every line had been placed. Each stroke of the whip against his skin had seemed the ultimate in irony: the one punishment his captors had selected was the very method he found most stimulating—and the one least likely to make him break.
16
Qwillia Rain
A brief smile tugged at his lips but flattened out as that memory led to the ones he‟d fought long and hard to suppress. He could feel the rage stirring inside him. His need to conquer the frustration, anger, and pain he felt at his failure to control his body and emotions when Aimee most needed him to was what had brought him here to the Club, but it wasn‟t the only reason he‟d come. Vance also knew it was time to fulfill his promise to Aimee—time to face the man he loved. He loved Ben. Not as a brother in arms or a friend, but as an adult male both emotionally and physically drawn to the older man. More importantly, Ben was the only person he trusted to help him regain control of his need, to harness the beast that was his rage.
Through carefully applied punishment, Ben would be able to help him exorcise the memories that undermined his control. And Ben would also help him fulfill the promise he‟d made to Aimee. Vance shook away his thoughts and continued his preparations.
Next to go were his trousers. The soft twill slid over his skin like a caress until it caught on the hammer of the snub-nosed .38 strapped to his calf. Vance knew Ben would be pissed if he told him how many times in the last six months he‟d held the cold metal to his own temple. But each time he had set it aside at the thought of what his suicide would do to the man he loved.
He folded and stacked his pants on top of his shirt. Stripping his black socks from his feet, he rolled them into a ball and stuffed them down into the top of one boot and filled the other with the holster and gun before moving to collect the bottle of scotch from the table. The liquor burned again as he swallowed a hefty portion and returned to the high-perched king-size bed. As he passed the mirror, he paused and finally stared at his reflection.
He looked the same.
The same black hair peppered with silver. The same dark stubble along his jaw despite his having shaved first thing this morning. The same darkly tanned skin inherited from his father along with the high, flat cheekbones, sharp nose, and square Diablo Blanco Club: Under Control
17
jaw of the Mescalero Apache tribe. After another quick swallow of scotch, he did the one thing he‟d avoided for the past forty-eight hours since he‟d last set the muzzle of his .38 against his temple and come closer to pulling the trigger than ever before. He looked into his own eyes.
His blue-green gaze was dead, lifeless, as he nodded. “Full circle, Aimee. Just like I promised you.”
His eyes flickered to his boot where the .38 was hidden. But the same three reasons not to put twenty cents worth of lead through his gray matter still remained: Ben deserved to be told how Vance felt; Aimee deserved to have a promise kept; and marines didn‟t quit.
He looked himself in the eyes once more. “And I‟m a fucking marine.”
18
Qwillia Rain
Chapter Two
The buzz came earlier than Ben expected. He‟d finished closing out his till and totaling his bottle count and had just begun to help empty the dishwasher when the light under the number three lit up. The bartender relieving him glanced at the panel of panic lights before looking at Ben.
“Vance,” Ben explained, letting the
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