Under Control — Qwillia Rain

Vance was used to facing death and confronting terrorists in war, but when it comes to confessing his act of betrayal to the man he loves, Vance finds it impossible to keep his feelings Under Control.

Publisher's Note: This book was previously published under the same title with a different publisher. It has been revised and contains 10 pages of new material. It contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find off-putting: Anal sex, bondage, domination/submission, whips/floggers.

Approximately 100 page (37,100 words) with excerpts from In A Lover's Silence, Unfair Advantage, and Santa's Elf.

For adult readers only.

Excerpt:

Vance Justiss watched the scowl on the older insurgent's face darken when he taunted in English, “A little to the right, if you don't mind.”

The whip stilled at a motion from the man. He stepped close, his brown gaze malevolent as it met Vance's. “You find pleasure from this?”

Vance had no problem understanding the heavily accented English, but he didn't bother responding. Nor did he flinch when the man held up the KA-BAR knife they'd taken from him. He only had to hold out a little longer. Just a little longer and his men would be there.

The first slice was shallow. Low on his belly, inches below his navel and close to the thick erection Vance didn't try to control.

“No! Please.”

The sound of her voice brought an immediate reaction.

“It's okay.” The second his reassurance left his lips Vance cursed himself.

The bastard in front of him smiled and lifted the knife away. “Perhaps it is not pain that is creating this?” He tapped the side of the KA-BAR against Vance's cock. He motioned to the man behind Vance. Without looking, the terrorist spoke to the girl who'd cried out. “You wish to help him?”

Vance forced himself not to move. Not to break eye contact with his captor to warn Aimee to remain silent. Not to curse or grimace when her “Yes” made both of the terrorists holding them laugh.

She didn't struggle or fight as they brought her close. The tangle of wild red curls hung down her back, let loose when the hood of her hijab had been yanked down. When the man stepped back, Aimee was forced to her knees in front of Vance.

Color filled her cheeks and she looked anywhere but at the straining hard on inches from her face.

The leader leaned down. “You wished to help him. Do so.”

“But -- I -- ”

Despite her stammered response, Vance could see she knew exactly what the fucker expected of her.

The man smiled and tapped the tip of the knife, still damp with Vance's blood against her lips. “Wrap these around this” -- he tapped Vance's cock -- “and suck. When it is soft again, I will tell my man to stop hitting him.”

Vance willed his arousal to recede but it ignored him. He watched as she lifted her bound hands and wrapped her cold fingers around his shaft.

“Aimee, don't.”

Deep blue eyes filled with tears blinked up at him. “It's okay,” she whispered before her soft pink lips opened and tentatively swallowed the head of his cock.

Vance jolted awake, his dick swollen and throbbing. That recalcitrant shaft of flesh ached with the same burning thrum as his wounded left arm and leg. Sweat slicked his bare chest as he shoved aside the thin, scratchy hospital sheets and swung his legs off the bed, hissing at the pain that shot through his knee despite the immobilizing air cast covering his leg.

In the darkness he forced his breathing to slow. The antiseptic smell and quiet hum of machinery from nearby rooms cemented the reminder that he no longer occupied a ragged hut in the Iraqi desert but was bunking at Bethesda Naval Hospital in Maryland. Last stop before heading home.