Honor Bound by Joey Hill (speld decodable readers .txt) 📕

Guard, seeking overseas assignments, was one of the ways he’d decided to give back. He didn’t care if people thought it was old-fashioned or misguided honor bullshit.

He liked bringing and enforcing the peace necessary for people to self-actualize. Having a front-row seat when and if they learned not to live in fear, seeing their kids play in the streets without being blown up . . . It made it all worthwhile.

He’d have time for a family or he wouldn’t, but he was living the life he wanted to live.

And Matt was more than supportive. Peter had no qualms about saying the men at this table were his family, Matt most of all. Peter’s parents had died when he was in his teens.

He’d had a rough time of it, but had entered the army young, done a three-year stint, and then, when he’d sought his degree, Matt had interned him at his burgeoning company, bringing a kid with blue-collar manufacturing aptitude and white-collar business systems understanding into this interior circle, an unconditional acceptance that he’d needed when the bottom fell out of his life.

Ah, hell. He hadn’t drunk enough to be getting this sloppy sentimental. Shifting his thoughts, he focused on the prospect of comfortably slaking his lust on a willing submissive. As Ben made another smartass comment and Jon came back with unruffled transcendentalism, Peter lifted the Macallan to his lips with a smile.

Dana stood in the shadows to the right of the bar as Maria returned. When she glanced at the waitress, Maria gave her a smile, following the direction of her interest. “They’re something, aren’t they? Every one of them handsome as sin. Flew in from Louisiana to give their buddy a send-off. He’s going to Afghanistan next week.”

“The one at the end.” Dana noted the military hairstyle, the way the dark blond man held himself upright, even as he enjoyed the male companionship.

“Appears so.” Maria gave her a considering look. “They’re all Doms, sweet. If you’re looking for a hookup, you could do a lot worse. They wouldn’t be allowed in here if they weren’t decent guys, but my impression is they’re a cut above decent. The two on the inside are married. Wearing the rings and everything, and made it crystal clear they’re just enjoying the view and here for their friend.”

Dana nodded. The waitress’s reassuring tone suggested she saw how nervous Dana was.

But it was stupid, because she’d blown a wad of money on a temporary membership to The Zone for her two-week leave. She’d looked forward to this night for a while. It had been her decision to come alone. Not really the smartest idea, going to a new fetish club by yourself, but The Zone’s rep was untarnished. Security inside and out, an intense vetting process that had taken the temp membership a couple months in advance to be approved, and she wore a slim bracelet that told staff she was new, so they’d keep an extra eye on her, help her know the ropes. Her lips curved. A good metaphor for a BDSM

club. Her newness might be another reason Maria was giving her the pep talk.

She’d been a sexual submissive since her teens, but of course it had taken some mistakes and tears to figure it out. Once she did, she’d discovered the scene and never looked back. Though unfortunately, accepting and exploring her own sexual nature hadn’t led to the immediate relief of frustration she’d hoped. It was a lot harder to find a compatible Dom worthy of her trust than she’d expected. Ironically, the same thing that made her crave a man’s dominance was the same thing that made her keep them at arm’s length.

Most didn’t put off the right vibe, or left her lukewarm. Subs at her club back home in Atlanta had told her it was like dating. You had to try on a few Doms, see what worked, what didn’t. You couldn’t keep holding out for the perfect one, the one that would take command of her senses from the very first second. You had to work at it.

So she’d tried harder, with fairly disastrous consequences. The Doms close to what she wanted were rife with those who could take it too far. Not because they were bad men, but because what she wanted was a lot like Goldilocks—rough, but not too rough. Her wants and needs were a moving target. She’d know it was right when it felt right. She couldn’t describe it. She wanted to be completely taken over, but she resisted it at the same time. While she knew that was unreasonable, it didn’t make it any less true.

Well, this was the freaking best fetish club ever, from what she’d heard. She had nothing to lose tonight. Because she’d chosen to come alone, no one knew her. What happened here would stay here, so she should stop skulking and do something, right? So—deep breath. She’d let her inhibitions go and . . . retreat while she still had a scrap of personal dignity.

C’mon, Dana. Get your shit together.

Her eyes went back to the soldier. When his hair grew out, did the sun lighten that wheat color? His eyes, thanks to the angle of the club lighting, showed storm-cloud gray, which might could become steel, like the line of his jaw. He was on the end, probably not only because he was trained to be readily mobile, but because he had the widest shoulders and longest legs. Not one of her absolute requirements for a good Dom, but man, it sure added to the fantasy. The white shirt he wore with his jeans had to be tailored for those shoulders. As Maria had said, all of them reeked of money. And a man who sat like that had to be an officer. But she wasn’t after the boy’s cash. Just one night of his time. If she ever got up the courage to leave the corner.

“Are you having a good time?”

She started out of