A French Whipping (22 page)

“I’m going to lift your hips and pull your legs from beneath you.”

Blake nodded and helped him by lifting her hips. “Good girl,” he murmured, and she felt the slight tremor in his hands as he lifted her hips. He was by no means in complete control and the knowledge made her stretch and relax even further.

He pulled her ankles from beneath her until she lay with her hips against the bed, her legs parted. He petted the inside of her thighs, dropped light kisses against her soft trembling flesh.

Lifting her left leg, he bent her knee and secured her calf to her thigh, wrapping and knotting her multiple times. He passed the rope under her lower back and secured her thigh to her hip so that if she relaxed, she would still be held, open and helpless, the wet pink flesh between her legs completely vulnerable to him.

He secured her the same way on the other side, and when he’d secured the last knot, he placed a kiss on her belly and shifted backward. He was silent. If he breathed, she couldn’t hear him.

“Nick?”

“I’m here,” he said reverently. “I’m looking at you.”

He was looking at her; he was looking at the Blake she’d always wanted to be, unafraid, vulnerable but not weak.

“Shall I touch you?”

“Yes,” she gasped and felt his hands on her knees, felt him stroke the soft hollow on the inside of the joints with slow strokes of his thumbs.

“You’re swollen and wet for me, glistening.”

Blake bit her lip and arched her back farther, begging, no,
demanding
that he touch her, that he take her.

He shifted again, and she felt the soft brush of his hair against her belly. His fingers slid to the inside of her thighs, parting her farther, and then one long finger slid inside her.

She moaned and came without warning, her body clenching and rippling around his finger.

He gave a delighted laugh and placed a kiss above the soft curls between her legs. “I hope you don’t think that I’m finished with you,” he murmured wickedly, and slid another finger inside her.

Blake swallowed, panting.

“You’re going to come for me again,” he told her, and his tongue, hot and wicked, lapped at the taut bud at the top of her sex.

Blake shivered and twisted. It was too much, too much feeling, too much sensation. She couldn’t contain it. Whimpering, she felt tears leak from beneath the blindfold.

His free hand stroked her thigh, soothing her, while his tongue continued to lap and tease and suck. His fingers slid in and out of her, gliding in and out of her slick, hot flesh.

Blake felt the tension rising again, felt the shining bubble of orgasm curling and growing deep inside.

“Nick, take me. Please.”

He moved abruptly and the bed sank on either side of her head. He mounted her, bracing himself on his arms and sliding just the tip of his thick cock inside her opening. He waited, not moving, and somehow Blake knew what he wanted from her, what he needed to hear in that moment.

“I love you,” she gasped, and he groaned, pushing his way inside her, stretching her, filling her, taking her apart as he sank all the way inside, giving himself to her like a gift.

In and out he slid, never hurrying, following the motion of her body until Blake was immersed in the smell of perfume and sweat, the feel of him between her legs, the clench of the rope holding her together. She lifted and pleaded, tossing her head, and he rode her through it, calm, patient, and sure, until she came undone as surely as a knot beneath his fingers. Her whole body shook, clamping down on him and milking him, gripping him as surely as the rope gripped her flesh. He roared and shook, his hips bruising the inside of her thighs as he came in hard spurts.

He collapsed to the side of her, both of them gasping for breath.

Wanting to hold him, Blake turned her head in his direction.

“Untie me,” she murmured, hoping it wouldn’t take too long.

To her surprise, the tension in her right leg ended abruptly and the rope fell away quickly. He helped her sit up and removed the rope from her arms and chest.

When her hands were free, Blake removed the blindfold. He was naked and holding a knife. He’d cut her free of the rope.

Swallowing, Blake managed a shaky laugh. “Isn’t that cheating?”

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He shrugged and set the knife aside on the nightstand. He came back to her and pulled her into his arms, using the weight of his body to pull them both back against the pillows.

Blake rested her head against his chest while he gently rubbed her skin where the rope had dug in slightly. They lay together in silence for a few minutes as their bodies calmed.

“Thank you,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

“Thank
you,
” she teased.

A small meow sounded from somewhere near the floor and there was the sound of claws against fabric.

Blake winced and sat up, crawling to the edge of the bed. Missy was playing with the cut ends of the rope that hung over the edge of the bed, batting at them and catching her claws in Nick’s undoubtedly expensive duvet cover.

Nick joined her and laughed softly. Taking one of the rope sections, he dangled it playfully in front of the kitten, letting her catch it and then pulling upward, lifting her briefly before she let go.

Blake shook her head. “You never cease to amaze me, Nick Cord.”

He looked at her, and there was something so lost in his face that she blinked back the sting of tears and touched his cheek. She kissed him, erasing that look, and he dropped the rope to the floor, wrapping her in his arms more tightly than he’d wrapped her with the rope, kissing her as if his life depended on it.

25

MILTON RETURNED TO
work Tuesday morning, strolling into Nick’s office looking tanned, if not particularly relaxed. Milton never relaxed. He was constantly moving, thinking, and messing around with the tricks that he kept on his person.

“Roland is arguing with a woman,” Milton said without preamble.

Nick blinked. He’d never known Roland to argue with women. Women loved Roland. Well, with the exception of Detective O’Halloran.

“Probably the detective who’s been investigating Keenan.”

“Really?” Milton fiddled with the magnetic bead sculpture on Nick’s desk, making the beads appear and disappear. Unlike Milton’s office, which was covered in knickknacks, Nick’s office was clean and nearly empty. He only kept the bead sculpture to keep Milton occupied, and even that was on the other side of the desk. Other than that, he’d hung one large photograph of the harbor full of boats behind his desk and a shadowbox holding his first black belt was hung on the wall near the door.

“Yeah,” Nick answered. “As far as I can tell, she thinks he’s as crooked as Keenan, he just hasn’t killed anyone.”

Milton shoved his hands in his pockets and went to Nick’s window. “Why does she think that?”

Nick leaned back in his chair. “Oh, it might have something to do with his going behind her back and making deals with lowlifes in order to get information.”

Milton snorted. “Cops make deals with lowlifes all the times. They call them confidential informants.”

“Apparently either she’s a rule-follower or she just has a problem with Roland.”

“Huh.” Milton rocked back and forth.

Nick rolled his shoulders. He’d been working on code all morning. “Roland had an idea for how to locate Keenan. I could use your help with the code.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Nick nodded. “He wants to lure him out by adjusting the security around MOMENT.”

“Adjusting it how?”

“He wants to lay some traps, some holes that aren’t really holes. See if we can’t get him to attack us again and trace him back to wherever he’s holed up.”

“Cool.” Milton looked impressed. “I’m kind of surprised Roland would be willing to risk MOMENT at all. He’s obsessed with making it work.”

Nick hadn’t been terribly surprised. Roland was as obsessed with finding Keenan as he was with MOMENT. Maybe more so. “He wants Keenan caught.”

“So how’s Blake?”

Nick winced. Milton had never been subtle, but he was perceptive. Nick had actually been avoiding her as much as he could for the past day. Not outright—that was impossible with her living in his house—but he knew she’d noticed his distance. That night. He’d never considered sex more than a pleasurable pastime before Blake. Touching her, having her surrender herself to him like that, had unnerved him to the point that he’d felt sick. He hadn’t known he could feel that much, be certain that he would do anything . . . anything to keep her, have her.

He would have given Keenan the software for MOMENT if he thought that was all the asshole wanted. He didn’t know now if he could give her up. If, once all this was resolved, she decided that she didn’t want to be with him anymore, he didn’t think he could go back to being just her friend.

“She’s restless. She doesn’t like waiting.”

Milton nodded. “I don’t blame her. She probably feels trapped.”

Nick scowled. “She goes out. Shane’s been driving her. She has a support group meeting this evening.”

“Cool. Are you going with her?”

Nick had considered it. He didn’t like her going alone, even with Shane driving her and the extra security detail, but he wasn’t sure if she wanted him there.

“Maybe.” He opened his phone and checked the security log. No one had left the apartment since he’d taken off for a run this morning.

“You should go. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

“What are you doing?” Nick tossed back. He doubted that it was attending a support group for abused women.

“I was going to see if I could come up with some names of document men in Little Italy for Roland, then head over to the hospital for a while. I have some presents for the kids.”

That reminded Nick. “I forgot to tell you. I started talking to Chuck about gaming, and I kind of agreed to make a game for the kids. I sent the developers over there on Friday to play with the kids and get some ideas.”

“Cool idea. We have sketches, any initial designs? I’d like to see it.”

“Yeah.” Nick punched a few keys and pulled up the server where the developers were working on it. He opened the game and walked Milton through the preliminary designs for the initial levels.

“This is great.” Milton’s fingers twitched, like he wanted to take control. “We should take this over to the hospital. Blake can come as well.”

Nick ran a hand down his face.

Milton smacked him in the back of the head. “What is your problem?”

“I love her,” Nick snapped back. “I love her so much I’m fucking crazy. Happy?”

Milton shrugged. “What’s the big deal? You’ve always loved her.”

“No.” Nick shook his head. “Before, it was under control. We were friends. I loved her, but she was my friend and I could love her and not worry that one day she’d be gone from my life, that I would drive her away . . . I could control it,” Nick argued through gritted teeth.

“Uh-huh.” Milton looked doubtful. “You may have thought you controlled your feelings, but I think you just stuffed them into a punching bag and beat the shit out of it on occasion. That’s like sticking your finger in a hole and hoping the dam doesn’t break. Let me tell you something . . . one day it always breaks.”

Nick shook his head. “You don’t get it.”

“So explain it.”

“No. Just go work on what you can find out about Keenan. Roland’s checking with Interpol to see if there’s any data on the woman he has with him.”

“Are we going to the hospital or not?”

“Yes,” Nick snapped. “Later. Just go.”

“Touchy. Okay, I’m going. Don’t forget to invite Blake.”

Nick felt a growl rumbling in his throat. He needed to go for a run.

Blake thought about knocking Nick out, tying him up, and demanding to know what his problem was, but she wasn’t entirely sure how she would go about it. He was a difficult man to sneak up on, and he always seemed to be aware of her on a visceral level.

Even when he was avoiding her, he seemed to be aware of her. Yesterday he’d left at the crack of dawn for a run . . . not so unusual. But he hadn’t come back for breakfast and he’d come home late, after she’d already given up on him and gone to sleep. He’d said he was working late, trying to figure out Keenan’s location, but she just didn’t buy it. This morning had gone the same way so far. He was gone when she woke up, sending her a text message with a good-morning and an admonition to stay in the apartment unless it was absolutely necessary that she leave. No one had mind-blowing, world-altering sex and was just suddenly too busy to see the other person unless avoidance was the goal.

The question was why. She didn’t remember saying anything she hadn’t before. She hadn’t pushed him for a response or demanded that he love her back. So why would he freak out now?

“Irritating man,” she muttered to the cat. The maid was at the house, cleaning the bedrooms and giving Blake disapproving looks. Blake ignored her and painted her toes bright pink, her third color in as many days. She’d also finished all her schoolwork and had read a book on successful charity organizations. If they didn’t find Keenan soon, she was going to say to hell with hiding and let Nick try to protect her while she went back to her real life. Well, real with the exception of Nick being her lover. She wasn’t going to give him up now.

“Miss, is this yours?”

The maid, a young Brazilian woman with gorgeous glossy black hair, held out a small shopping bag with
BERGDORF GOODMAN
written across the bottom. Bergdorf’s? She’d thought Bergdorf’s was only in New York.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied, curious to see what Nick could possibly have purchased from the exclusive department store. He wasn’t exactly a world-class shopper. She had to force him to buy Christmas presents.

The maid set the bag on the end table next to where Blake sat on the couch and went back down the hall to finish cleaning. Blake waited until she had left to pick up the bag and reach inside. She pulled out a white box with a gold seal that read
JAR, BOLT OF LIGHTNING
. It was empty, but it smelled like the perfume that Nick had anointed her body with.

Curious, she looked inside the bag again and saw ribbon and a receipt. Plucking out the receipt, she turned it over and gasped. Surely not. Surely he hadn’t paid that much for perfume. The ink was faded, but she could make out the date, nearly ten years earlier. What had he said . . . that when he’d smelled it, he’d thought of her? Ten years ago he’d bought a perfume at an exclusive boutique with her in mind and he’d never given it to her?

What the hell? He’d been thinking about her this way even then? Her lips parted in astonishment, she traced the design on the top of the box.
Nick
. She thought his name, and, to her surprise, felt her throat close.

Shaking the feeling off, she picked up her phone to ask him about it and realized that she had a voice mail from Milton. He’d left a message telling her they were going to the hospital to show the ideas for Nick’s game to the kids, and did she want to come?

He’d said “they” were going . . . so Nick was going. And he hadn’t called her. Oh, it was so on.