Thirst: Jensen City Heroes, #2

By Tori Ross

Second in series but can be read as a standalone!

Zeke Lightfoot is the new Jensen City fire chief and a damn good one. He may be young for a fire chief, but he's a good leader and is always in charge. The only exception is that he likes to be dominated by beautiful women in his off time.

One night, he goes to a secret club known only to the city elite by invitation only where he's humiliated and punished in the best possible way. The woman he meets there, his new dom, is gorgeous and mysterious. Who is the woman behind the mask she uses to keep her identity a secret?

Remi Young has a boring day job but an exciting and secret night gig. She's also having a rough time since falling into a puddle while helping her friends. With her new ability to control water haunting most of her thoughts, Remi welcomes the distraction of a new sub at her night job. He's gorgeous and everything she wants in a partner outside of work. Unfortunately, he's off-limits per the club rules.

When Remi walks into her friends' engagement party and sees her new sub sitting with her best friend's fiancé, sparks fly. Should she tell her secrets to Zeke? Would it be more of a shock to her new sub if she tells him that she can move water at her whim or that she's the secret sub that's infiltrated his dreams?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tori Ross
• Release date: Oct 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223834267

Tori Ross

Tori Ross writes romantic comedy and erotic superhero romance. When she's not writing, she runs a podcast called The Smutty Book Lady and Friends and can be seen reading any genre of books. She lives in Missouri with her family and a very high-maintenance dog.

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Thirst

Tori Ross

Copyright © 2021 by Tori Ross

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

All main characters are age 18+

Cover by GetCovers

Editing by April Pearson

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

1.Before

2.Chapter 1

3.Chapter 2

4.Chapter 3

5.Chapter 4

6.Chapter 5

7.Chapter 6

8.Chapter 7

9.Chapter 8

10.Chapter 9

11.Chapter 10

12.Chapter 11

13.Chapter 12

14.Chapter 13

15.Chapter 14

16.Chapter 15

17.Chapter 16

18.Chapter 17

19.Chapter 18

20.Chapter 19

21.Chapter 20

22.Chapter 21

23.Chapter 22

24.Chapter 23

25.Chapter 24

26.Chapter 25

27.Epilogue

About the Author

Before

Remi

Night after night, I dream the same shit. My best friend can read dreams, and I know she’s seen it. But I still haven’t become used to the dream, or nightmare, if you prefer.

It always begins with Linus texting the group rec volleyball chat talking some bullshit that I don’t understand.

Text to volleyball team group chat – Darbs. I’ll be at the warehouse a little after midnight to get the amp. Thanks for letting me know.

Text to Linus – "What the fuck did you just post in the team group chat? What the hell is amp, and why are you meeting Darby at a warehouse after midnight?"

He told me all about it when I called him. I guess you could say that Linus sang like a fucking canary. He told me all about how Darby’s boyfriend, Archie, fell into some amp in a warehouse fire, and that’s what gave him the sudden ability to control fire. He told me how Archie found more amp at another warehouse and how Darby and Archie brought it to him to study. He studied it and found out it was a plastic strengthener made by Corbin Dallas of Dallas Industries that strengthens and attaches to anything it comes into contact with. For example, it took on fire characteristics before Archie got it on his skin. He absorbed it through his skin and can now control fire.

He told me about some dickwad named Porter and that Darby thought Porter was keeping some amp at a warehouse by the park. I wasn’t about to let my best friend get hurt, so I laced up my sneakers and headed to the warehouse to kick some ass. I knew Archie was with her and knew Linus would be there to help, but I didn’t like the idea of Darby being hurt.

When I got there, the sprinklers were on, and the only person around was Linus. I found him searching pallets in the middle of the warehouse. I asked him what the fuck he was doing, and he told me that Darby and Archie got separated. He told me Archie went to look for Darby, and he was looking for any amp to get out of the warehouse for study.

I started looking around the rest of the warehouse for Darby, leaving Linus to search the center of the warehouse. At that moment, I heard a gunshot and grabbed the nearest weapon-like object I could find which happened to be some small shovel someone left in the admin area. I saw Linus run in my direction, but I was closer and faster.

I headed up the stairs at a breakneck pace and found a room with weird bottles of dripping goo scattered around the room. I didn’t stop to investigate, though, and headed straight to the stairs leading up to some type of office where I thought I’d find Darby and Archie.

I tripped. That’s the kicker. I tripped and fell on my hands and knees near a drain. Dropping the shovel, I felt the water swirling down the drain under my hand. Unfortunately, that’s not the only thing I felt as I pushed off of the floor.

The tingling started in my knees and then moved up my body until I had to stretch my neck for the pain to subside. My mouth felt funny, and my whole body felt how you feel when you hit your funny bone on a table.

Looking back, I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I was desperate to get to Darby and make sure she was safe. Except for my parents and my grandmother, Darby’s the closest person in my life. I wouldn’t mentally survive something happening to her. I’d feel like a piece of me was lost forever.

I grabbed the shovel and tiptoed up the stairs to the office and saw Archie beating the shit out of Porter. Archie’s face was bloodied, and there was a hole in his shirt over his shoulder. That must have been where the bullet grazed him. I couldn’t see Darby well, but I could see a chair behind Archie and Porter, so I assumed she was tied up or something.

Archie had Porter beat, but Porter still had the gun in his hand. I couldn’t risk that he’d move it and shoot Darby or even get Archie. If I didn’t do something and Archie got hurt, Darby would never let me live in peace. So, I hit Porter in the head with the shovel.

It made a sickening thud that turned my stomach. I still hear that sound in my dreams as the shovel connects with Porter’s head. I can still see Porter’s body go still and slump to the ground, and I remember being terrified that I killed him.

All’s well that ends well on that scenario. None of us had charges pressed against us, and Porter’s now sitting in a jail cell, alive and well. I only gave him a concussion. After being interviewed at the police station, the police washed their hands of the situation and let us go on our merry ways. They couldn’t hold us because neither Corbin Dallas nor anyone else at Dallas Industries said a word about the situation. If the property owner doesn’t press charges, there are no charges.

That should have been the end of it, and I’d like to say that’s what happened. However, when I woke up the next morning and went in to brush my teeth, something weird happened.

Since the water crisis began over a year ago, it’s not unusual to have our faucets sputter and take a moment to turn on properly. I wasn’t surprised when the water took a few moments to sputter to life that morning. I was surprised when it started sputtering and coming toward my face. I’m still not sure why it did that. My faucet could have been broken or there may have been too much air in the pipes, but that’s not really important. I instinctively put my hand in front of my face to block it or keep my face from getting wet, but I ended up stopping the water drops in mid-air.

At first, I kind of waved my hand around and watched them move while levitating in mid-air. I remember catching a glimpse of my wide eyes and shocked face in the mirror. However, I spent about ten minutes just playing with that water. Eventually, I put my hand down and watched the water fall back into the sink.

I turned the water on again, but I deliberately moved the water with my finger like I was tracing a pattern this time. I wasn’t expecting the water to follow the pattern, but it did. I tried a circle, a triangle, and a square. Then, I started designing letters with the water mid-air until I had all three of my initials levitating in my bathroom.

I couldn’t explain what I saw, and I felt like I was dreaming. I remembered what Linus told me about Archie and the amp and how he got the goo on him. After sitting in shock for a few minutes, I concluded that the water I fell into at the warehouse must have had amp in it when it got on my skin.

I picked up the phone so many times that morning. First, I wanted to call Linus. Looking back, I should have called Linus because he’s one of my best friends, and he already knew about the amp. He wouldn’t use me as a guinea pig, and I’m sure he’d keep it a secret. I just couldn’t bear to even speak the words to explain this to someone.

I wanted to call Darby, but I decided against it because Darby has so much going on with Archie and the press after the warehouse. I couldn’t bother her with this. Part of me also wanted to call Archie and ask how he dealt with this, but since we all just had a pretty hardcore birthday threesome together, I didn’t want Darby thinking that I was calling her man or hitting on him because I liked how he fucks. I know Archie would have helped me. However, by the time I worked up the nerve to tell him, he called me asking for help picking out Darby’s engagement ring. It wasn’t the right time.

I couldn’t tell the press. I guess I could have called Archie’s journalist friend, Marly Hughes, and told her that I could do magic with my toilet water. Hell, I could quit my day job and night gig to do a traveling sideshow. Those things weren’t realistic, though, even if I do think Marly would have believed me.

What could I do?

Nothing. I was a fucking coward the day I learned I could move water. The only thing I did was curl up into a ball on my duvet and cry for hours.

Chapter 1

Zeke

W hat are you into? the woman at the cash register asks.

The amusing fact that there’s even a cash register at a secret sex club isn’t lost on me. It’s not like I’m buying a garden hose or tacos since I’m buying sex. Do I get a receipt? I inwardly chuckle to myself while I appreciate the beautiful blond woman’s ample breasts protruding out of her tank top.

What’s on the menu? I’m a first-timer.

Ah. A club virgin. Well, we have your standard pay to play. We have an offering for a threesome that’s pretty popular with men of your status, she says while ticking each item off on a finger. We have quickie blowjobs for the no-fuss man on the go, we have a dominatrix on-site, and we have a massage with happy ending offering.

I’m sorry. Can you back up to the dominatrix offering?

The woman smiles a toothy grin, and I notice a gap between her teeth. She winks at me and wiggles her shoulders as if she knows exactly what kind of rough, kinky shit I like.

She wouldn’t be wrong. It’s my dark secret that I love being dominated. Maybe it’s unmasculine because women have looked at me as if they feel sorry for me. For this reason, I don’t tell just anyone. Fine, I tell the hookers, but only because I have to tell them so they can fuck me the way I like.

I’m not proud of it. By it, I mean the hookers. However, when I’ve told past girlfriends what I wanted in bed, they ran for the hills as soon as I asked them to flog me while pulling my hair. I’d love to experiment within the confines of a loving relationship, but it never ends well when I tell them. If you think finding a vanilla relationship is hard, try having a kink. Most women want me to dominate them. I comply to give them what they physically need, and I have no problem playing switch. However, when it’s my turn, I get squeamish looks and judgmental goodbyes. Hence, the hookers.

That’s how I ended up here. I’m the fire chief of Jensen City and the youngest person to hold that honor at the age of thirty-six. I now have powerful friends in government who include aldermen, the heads of the city utilities, the chief of police, and I'm on a first-name basis with the mayor.

Even so, it was a surprise to get an anonymous letter at the admin building last week. It was the kind of invitation that looks like a serial killer made it. It didn’t have a signed name or return address, and it was fashioned with block letters. The only information on it was the address and directions to go to the bar and give the password to the bartender. The envelope only said that the information in the envelope is confidential. Apparently, this is where the men of Jensen City’s elite get their dicks sucked and get anything else they desire.

How much for the dom, and what are the rules?

Five hundred, she says, and a whistle escapes my lips. She’s a damn good dom. I’ve never given a refund, and most come back.

Does she finish the job, or does she just get me going? I ask and feel my cheeks redden.

She always makes sure you finish, but it’s up to her what she allows. She doesn’t usually fuck or blow her clients. She’s in charge and runs a tight ship no matter how much you beg, she says with a wink. And you will beg.

I reach into my pocket and give her the entire wad of bills I pulled from the ATM. I wasn’t expecting to spend five hundred dollars at the club and grimace at the thought of paying to be humiliated. However, if the dom is as good as this woman says, it should be worth it.

Come with me, she says after putting the cash in a drawer and writing the transaction into some type of ledger.

I follow behind her down a long hallway. You’d think this would be some sort of strip club vibe or feel, but it’s not. It’s a back area at the Jensen City Golf Club. I guess someone knows where their clientele frequents. The men can golf all day, have dinner, move to the bar, and give the bartender the secret password. The men are then led to what normal society believes is a service hallway. It’s a service hallway, alright.

The woman leads me to a room with dim lighting like a massage parlor. She hands me a soft, white robe and stares at me without blinking for a few moments. I’m unsure if she wants me to get undressed in front of her or turn around, so I just stand there looking at her in confusion.

What’s this for? I ask, unsure why she’s just staring at me.

It’s only if you want it to start. She’ll take it off. Most men just get naked or in their underwear, though. It’s your choice. We want you to feel comfortable.

We stare at each other for a few seconds. Uh, are you going to leave so that I can get undressed?

I can, but I have to come back to secure you to the wall, she says, gesturing to a wall with adjustable restraint sliders built on a shelf-like structure.

Never mind, I say, unbuckling my jeans and sliding them down my legs.

The cold air hits me as I step out of my pants even though I keep my underwear on. I grab the hem of my t-shirt and pull it over my head, and the woman gives my chest and ab muscles an unprofessional grin.

Are you checking me out? I ask.

Sorry, she says and clears her throat. Most men that run the government of Jensen City aren’t so…healthy.

Where should I stand? I ask, trying to break the spell of this woman looking at me like I’m a steak dinner.

Go over to the restraint area and face the wall, she says, nodding again to the concrete wall that looks like it belongs in a real dungeon instead of a fun sex dungeon. I’ll secure your arms.

I face the wall?

Yes. Mistress likes to make an entrance when you can’t see her. She likes to smell your unease, she says, waggling her fingers and sounding like she’s a ghoul in a horror movie.

I trudge over to the wall, and the woman walks over to lift my right arm. Using a leather cuff like you’d see in a horror film about an insane asylum, she buckles my wrist into the rack and makes sure it’s not too uncomfortable for me. She walks over to my other arm and does the same.

My arms hang from the straps, and my nose touches the gray cement wall. My arms aren’t comfortable, but they’re not really supposed to be comfortable. I paid a lot of money to make sure this isn’t a day at a spa. Nerves cause my stomach to churn uneasily, and I start to regret that I stopped at Archie and Bennett’s station for burrito night before coming here.

She’ll be in when she feels like it, the woman says as she walks out the door, closing it gently as she leaves.

I wait silently for about ten minutes as my arms just hang by the wall. I could scream of boredom, but part of me wonders if this is part of the torture. I take deep breaths, but they don’t do anything to calm me. The deep breaths also make me smell the sterile air that smells like someone has bleached the room since the last client. At least the place is clean.

I start humming an old country tune from the nineties to myself to pass the time and wish I could turn my wrist to look at my watch. I can’t tell how much time passes, and the silence is deafening. I even try to listen for activities in rooms nearby. I half-expect to hear moans from the blowjobs down the hall, but the rooms must be soundproofed. My stomach bunches even more, and I make a deal with myself that if she’s not in here in what I think is five more minutes, I’m going to yell to be unhooked and ask for a refund.

The door creaks open before I can call to get out of my restraints. I’m facing forward and can't see anything, but I hear a soft female gasp as the dom comes into the room. The click-clack of her heels stops suddenly. I don’t know why she gasps, but I flex my ass cheeks in the hopes that she just likes the view of my naked back. I regret not taking my underwear off for her to see my naked ass. Most people wouldn't think it of me, but I'm a showoff.

After a few seconds, a whisper that sounds like honey escapes her lips. Are you comfortable to start?

Yes, ma’am, I answer. I know to be respectful.

You will refer to me as Mistress from now on.

Yes, Mistress.

Before I start, do you have any limits, injuries or fears I should know?

No, Mistress.

What is your safe word if I go too far?

Oh shit. What the hell do I use as my safe word? Why can’t I think of any words? Quick, I need to think of something I’ll remember in the heat of the moment! Uh, cream pie, I say and cringe. Really? Why the hell did Bennett’s favorite phrase just come out of my mouth?

I swear that I hear the woman stifle a chuckle, but she regains her composure and disguises the laugh with a cough. I don’t know why, but the sound of that chuckle soothes me, and I instantly want to please her.

Cream pie it is, she replies, and I hear the smile in her voice. I smile in response to her voice, even while my nose is pressed against the wall.

Is this your first time being dominated? she asks.

Professionally, yes. Privately, no. I’ll need a lot of instruction, Mistress.

Pressing against me, she wraps her arms around my waist. I feel cool leather, almost sticky, at my back. She must be wearing it. The smell of lavender fills my nose, but it soon passes out of my mind as she grabs a hunk of my hair and pulls my head back to get close to my ear. My cock stiffens to have my head controlled so savagely.

"You are in