Deep Domination (Bought by the Billionaire #2)

Table of Contents

Title Page

All Rights Reserved

ABOUT THE BOOK

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Acknowledgements

Tell Lili your favorite part!

About the Author

Also By Lili Valente

 

 

 

 

 

DEEP DOMINATION

 

Bought by the Billionaire

Book Two

 

By Lili Valente

All Rights Reserved

Copyright
Deep Domination
© 2015 Lili Valente

 

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This erotic romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy hot, sexy, emotional novels featuring Dominant alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work. Cover design by Bootstrap Designs. Editorial services provided by Leone Editorial.

ABOUT THE BOOK

 

WARNING: This is one deep, dark, hard-spanking, dirty-talking read. Are you ready?

 

Hannah is in too deep, falling steadily under Jackson’s erotic control. It doesn’t matter that he’s her captor and tormentor. She lives for the nights when he draws her deeper into his world, teaching her the thrill of submission

 

Pain and pleasure. Love and hate. Him and her.

 

Jackson is falling—remembering why he couldn’t get enough of the woman who destroyed him—but so is she. Soon, he’ll reach Hannah’s hard limit and her obedient façade will fall away, exposing the monster he’s hunted across three continents.

 

But soon a shocking revelation interrupts their dark and twisted game and Jackson is left wondering who is the true monster.

 

* * Deep Domination is the 2
nd
in the Bought by the Billionaire serial romance series. For maximum enjoyment it should be read after book one.* *

Dedicated to my Street Team, the sweetest

bunch of naughty-hero-loving women around.

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

Six Years Ago

 

Jackson

 

They had only been in the stuffy room at the end of the hall for half an hour, but Jackson was already sweating beneath his clothes and dangerously close to losing his shit.

The interrogation was a joke. It was clear, that in the minds of the two military police officers charged with getting his side of the story, he had already been tried and convicted. He didn’t know either of them, but they weren’t hard to read. The older, red-headed man with the crooked nose wanted to pound Jackson unconscious and his partner—a young, fuzzy-haired brunette who barely looked old enough to have graduated from the academy—alternated between flushing red with anger and paling with disgust.

And fear. She was afraid of him, too.

He could see it in her eyes when her guard faltered. She was horrified by what she was certain he’d done. She was also scared of what might have happened to her if she’d encountered him on one of the more far-flung Quantico trails, deep in the forest where no one could have heard her scream as he’d forced himself on her.

As he’d
raped
her.

The thought made his stomach roil and bile rush up the back of his throat. He would
never
do that to a woman,
any
woman, let alone the woman he loved. Being questioned in connection with something like this was deeply disturbing, but the fact that he was accused of violating Harley was just…too much.

He felt dizzy, sick, and panicked, but also strangely above it all, like a ghost hovering in the air watching a man with dark circles under his eyes protest that he was innocent.

It was all so fucking bizarre.

He’d spent the past two days grieving Harley with an intensity that had left his insides black and blue, crying himself to sleep and wishing he never had to wake up again. All he wanted was for her to be alive, even if it meant she was married to Clay and he would never get to hold her again, never taste her skin or hear the breathy sound she made at the back of her throat as he pushed inside her.

He still loved her, and ached for her so deeply he worried the pain might kill him. He would never have hurt her—
never
.

He’d said as much to the MPs at least half a dozen times, but it bore repeating until these people got the message.

“It doesn’t matter if anyone can confirm whether or not I was at home asleep four nights ago,” he said, cutting off the red-haired officer in the middle of his latest monologue.

The man and his partner both had nametags on their uniforms, but Jackson couldn’t seem to focus long enough to make sense of the letters stitched in black on gray. The entire morning had been too surreal, from the time the officers knocked on his front door to the moment he learned he was being questioned in connection with the rape of Harley Garrett.

“I didn’t rape Harley. I love her.” The reality that she was no longer alive to love hit him all over again, making it hard to swallow past the fist of emotion shoving up his throat.

“I loved her,” he continued, his voice hoarse. “So much. I would never have hurt her. And if she were here right now she’d tell you that. She’d tell you everything we did was consensual.”

“So you believe Miss Garrett was a truthful woman?” the female officer asked. She was pale now, not flushed, but Jackson was too frustrated to wonder if that was a good sign or a bad one.

“Yes,” he said, shaking his head as he realized that wasn’t the truth, no matter how much he wanted it to be. “I thought so, anyway. She always seemed to be when we were together. But two days ago I learned that she was engaged to my best friend. They’d been dating behind my back for months so…”

He ran a clawed hand through his hair with a harsh sigh, trying not to think about the fact that Clay was gone, too. Clay, who had been his best friend since basic training and saved his life more than once. Clay, who would have been the first and only person he would have turned to at a time like this, the only person in his life he’d trusted with all of his secrets.

“So maybe she wasn’t always truthful,” he continued. “But she would have told you the truth about this.”

“Why’s that?” The woman—Pearson according to her name tag, though he would probably forget that the second he glanced away—lifted her unplucked brows. “Was she afraid to contradict you?”

Jackson balled his hands into fists on top of the table, fighting to keep the anger from his voice. “Because she was the one who wanted to experiment with being submissive. She’s the one who wanted things rough.” He lifted his chin and relaxed his fists, ignoring the doubt he could feel seething toward him from the other side of the table. “She wanted to take things even further, for me to gag her and use a whip that would leave marks on her skin, but I told her no.”

“Why?” Pearson pressed.

“I wasn’t ready to go that far until we had a serious commitment.”

“You only hurt the ones you love?” the male officer asked with a barely controlled sneer.

“Because power exchange can be dangerous,” Jackson said, not bothering to keep the condescension from his tone. “I’ve been involved in these kind of relationships before, but Harley was new to the lifestyle. I needed to know that she trusted me to take care of her and help her learn her limits. Like I said, I didn’t want to hurt her.”

He sat still, forcing himself to hold the gaze of first Pearson and then her older, meaner counterpart without flinching, resisting the urge to fill the silence. He’d offered enough explanation. If there was something they didn’t understand, they could ask.

There was nothing perverted or wrong about what Harley had wanted—or in his need to make sure he was entering into a relationship in the way he felt was safest for a new-to-the-scene submissive. Giving your will over to another person for the first time can be overwhelming. Both the Dom and sub need to have similar expectations and be committed to working through the process together from the start.

He’d had doubts Harley was ready to submit to another person’s control—she was so stubborn and didn’t always seem to enjoy it when he started giving orders in the bedroom. But after the way she’d responded to him the night he’d climbed through her window, his doubts had faded away.

She had been so perfect, so vulnerable and honest and sexy as hell.

For the first time, he’d seen all the way to the heart of her, and known it was safe to tell her that he loved her. Because she loved him, too. She was scared and she had secrets and pain she tried so hard to hide, but deep down she was ready to take the first steps toward abandoning control. To him and only him. She was ready to hand over her power and let him help her find a way to be free of the things that haunted her.

As he’d kissed her goodbye he’d been certain they were on their way to something special.

Instead, it was the last time he would ever see her alive.

“I loved her,” he said again, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. “And now she’s gone and I just…” He sucked in a shallow breath, willing himself not to break down. “I don’t understand why this is happening.”

“Maybe this will shed some light on that for you.” Red turned to press play on the DVD player behind him.

The television sat on a dull gray portable stand and had already been in the room when Jackson was led in. He’d assumed it was part of the standard furnishings of the drab interrogation room, along with the chipped table, squeaky chairs, and the plastic water cooler in the corner.

But he’d been wrong. The television was there for him; he knew it the moment Harley’s face flickered onto the screen.

His first reaction to seeing her tear-streaked face was joy—to see her again, to see her talking, animated,
alive
—followed closely by grief and then rage.

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