Bound Temptations: Stories of Temptation and Submission (12 page)

"Tell me. Show
me."

She covered his hand with
hers. Smaller fingers guided his, and they both watched as she had
him squeezing tighter, just a little tighter. And she continued to
ride his other hand.

When he felt her tighten
around his fingers, though, he pulled away.

Rocki cried out, grasping at
his wrist.

He evaded her, lifting his
fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.

Then he tangled his hand in
her hair and tugged her head back, kissing her. It was rougher,
rougher than before, but from under his lashes, he watched
her.

She shuddered and arched
back against him, pressing her ass against his cock.

The top of his head almost
came off.

Tearing his mouth away, he
rasped, "On your hands and knees, Rocki. I want to watch
this."

"You want to kill me." She
shuddered and then eased forward, bracing her weight on her hands,
spreading her knees for him. Then she lifted her head, watching him
through the mirror.

Cole stared at the round
curve of her ass, up over the line of her back, then into the
mirror, meeting her eyes. As he gripped her hips in his hands, he
watched her. As he pressed the head of his cock against her
entrance, he watched.

"Are you sore?" he
asked.

Her lashes dipped low. "Just
a little. I don't care."

He eased backward, pushing
his fingers inside. She was slick. Slick and wet, tight, gripping
him as he tested her. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I want you to fuck me...I
don't care if it hurts a little or not." Rocki gave him a wicked
smile, one that would have turned his blood to lava if she hadn't
already done that.

"Bad girl," he whispered.
"Damn it, why didn't I ever see the appeal of that before
now?"

"Hmm. Maybe because you
hadn't met me?"

He didn't waste the breath
to answer. Staring down, he wrapped his hand around his cock and
pressed against her, watching in the dim light as the swollen folds
of her sex yielded to him. Hot, slick...so soft it was killing him.
He was shuddering by the time he'd buried himself to the hilt,
shaking and sweating when he pulled out for the first time. And
already almost to boiling point in under thirty seconds.

But he held off, spreading
his hands wide over her hips and holding her steady when she tried
to drive the rhythm.

When she pressed back
against him harder, faster, he tangled his hand in her hair and
forced her upright, pulling her body against him. She gasped and
stared at their reflections, her eyes dark, her mouth parted. It
was the most erotic sight. "Look at how beautiful you are," he
rasped, stroking a hand down her middle and teasing her clit with
his finger as he rocked against her in a slow, teasing circle.
"Stop trying to rush this."

She tightened around him,
grasping at his wrist, a startled cry falling from her lips. "Cole,
please—damn it, please!" She arched her back and those full,
beautiful breasts lifted, her nipples swollen and tight. At the
same time, she twisted her hips a little, still impaled on his
cock.

Swearing, he shifted,
pushing her to her knees and then farther, until she was spread out
beneath him. He surged against her, hard, fast, driving his dick
into her soft, wet pussy and shaking as she cried out his name and
started to come.

It was, Cole knew, the
sweetest damn thing he'd ever experienced.

What he didn't know was how
he'd gone this long without it—or how he'd ever manage to survive
without this...without her.

Rocki woke to the smell of
coffee.

Popping one eye open, she
stared at the simple white mug sitting on the bedside table. Then
she opened the other eye and saw Cole leaning against the bed,
cradling his own coffee.

"Is that cup mine?" she
asked blearily.

"Yes. If you want
it."

"I want." Awkwardly fighting
with the sheets, she sat up and reached for it, cupping both hands
around it and all but whimpering at the smell. "Caffeine. Gimme. I
want."

Cole laughed.

As she took the first sip,
he stroked a hand down her back, combing it through her tangled
hair. She was afraid to even look at it just then, afraid to look
at herself. He, of course, looked perfect.

"A fellow caffeine junkie."
He grinned at her after she'd polished off most of the first
cup.

"Nothing beats caffeine as a
wake-me-up. Except maybe sex." She slid him a smile as she said
it.

"Nah. Sex always beats
caffeine." The hand on her back stroked lower, curved around her
hip.

Her heart skipped a beat as
he sat his cup down and went to his knees. "Speaking of
which..."

She needed to wash her face,
damn it. She needed to pee. She should probably brush her teeth
again. And she was a little sore.

But all he did was rest his
head on her thigh and rub his thumb in slow circles over her knee.
"How are you feeling?"

"Um...I'm fine." If you
don't mind me getting a little choked up here, she thought.
Swallowing around the knot in her throat, she lifted a hand and let
herself play with his golden hair. "Stop worrying so much. I've had
sex before, you know. It just hasn't been recently."

"Hmm." He pressed his lips
against her leg. "I just want to make sure. Because I damn sure
plan on keeping that first date. And the second."

"You're really fixated on
that second date, huh?" She managed to get a real smile in place by
the time he lifted his head, managed not to look so wishy-washy and
sentimental—not even a date, yet, hello.

But her heart wasn't much
listening to reason, and it didn't help when he stood up and braced
a knee next to her on the bed, cupping her face in his hand. "Is it
going to scare you away if I tell you I'm already fixating on the
fifth date? The tenth?"

"Ahhh..." She stared at him,
blinking. Fifth...tenth?

He stroked his thumb over
her lip. "Is that a yes? Do I need to slow it down?"

"I don't know." She leaned
away long enough to set her coffee down, then she wrapped her arms
around his waist, snuggling her head against him.

"Part of me is thinking I'm
already rushing it. The other part of me feels like...hell. I feel
like I've been missing this for a long time."

They stood that way for a
long, long while, his hand stroking her hand, her face pressed to
his belly. Then she sighed. "Maybe we're rushing it a little. We
can rush it for as long as it feels right. If we need to pull back,
then I guess we'll know."

Chapter Eight

"No news, I take
it?"

Five days had passed with no
new incidents...and no answers.

Clayton stood with Rocki in
her shop, looking terribly uncomfortable and terribly out of place,
especially with his sister standing a few feet away and holding up
a new, modified corset that Rocki was putting out for the spring
line.

With his face a brilliant
shade of red, he deliberately turned his back on Lacey and said,
"No. No news. There weren't any prints on the box that we can link
to Dwayne. Nobody reports seeing anybody fitting his description in
the area. For the past five years, he's lived in Seiverville—quite
a ways from here."

A ways, but still drivable,
she thought. She'd rather just know one way or the other if it had
been her ex who'd left the destroyed flowers, who'd sent the
pictures.

"You haven't gotten any new
deliveries? No new cards?"

"No, Clayton." She sighed
and pushed her hair back.

He stared at her, a familiar
look on his square face. Seconds ticked by and he didn't
blink.

"Damn it, you moron."
Irritated by the staring contest, Rocki shoved off the counter. "I
said I'd tell you if anything happened and I meant it. There
haven't been any cards, any deliveries, not anything."

He sighed and pushed a hand
through his hair. "Sorry. It's just..." His voice trailed
off.

But the look in his eyes
said everything. Rocki turned away, pressed a hand to her belly.
"Clayton, I'm not ignoring this. I know how serious it
is."

"Do you?"

She looked back over her
shoulder, trying to ignore the ache in her chest at the look in his
eyes. But she couldn't ignore the fear that lived inside her,
couldn't ignore the nerves or the anxiety. "Yes. I do."

"But—"

Lacey came up to stand
between them, and Rocki could see the indecision on her face. She
wanted to side with both of them—her brother and his fear for
Rocki, and Rocki, as well, because Rocki damn well knew Lacey
likely wouldn't have handled things much differently.

Lacey laid a hand on
Clayton's arm and said, "Ease up, bub. She's being careful,
okay?"

"Careful isn't always
enough." Clayton shook his head. "Rocki—"

"No." She held up a hand,
cutting him off. "I don't want to hear this. You think I don't
realize how badly I screwed up back then? I do, I get it. I screwed
up then when I didn't report him. It won't happen
again."

"You sure about
that?"

"Damn it, Clayton," Lacey
snapped. "Enough."

"No." Rocki shook her head,
barely sparing Lacey a look. "This is between us now, Lacey. I
appreciate the concern, but I can handle it." Setting her jaw, she
focused on Clayton, barely resisting the urge to throw something.
At his head—that thick, rock-hard skull. "You think I don't realize
how serious this is."

"I'm pretty damn certain you
don't."

"And I'm pretty damn certain
I do." Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared at
him.

"Then why didn't you call
when things first started getting weird?"

Rocki shoved both hands into
her hair and tugged, a strangled scream escaping her. "Damn it,
Clayton, you're being an asshole, you know that? I got some fucking
cards. Unsigned, with pictures of me. That was it. There was
nothing written on them, nothing said. If I'd done anything, then a
report would have been filed...and if it had been a cop who didn't
know me taking the report? I would have been brushed off and you
damn well know it. As soon as I had something sort of concrete, I
called."

Pinching the bridge of his
nose, Clayton mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

Lowering his hand, he glared
at her. "Part of me is pissed off knowing that you may be
right."

"I know I am."

"The other part is thinking
that you're a cop's wife..." He paused, cleared his throat. "You
were a cop's wife. You know what to say, when to say, how to say it
to make them take you seriously, Rock. And damn it, you could have
just found out when I was on shift. You know I'm always there when
you need me."

"I do know that. And when I
did need help, you were the one I called," she said, her voice
gentle. Sighing, she made herself think past the anger, the fear,
the nerves. This was Clayton, her friend for so many
years.

She'd known him for as long
as she'd known Lacey. He'd always been there for her. She knew he
worried. "Clay, try to understand...I was doing what I thought was
right—trying to be careful without jumping to
conclusions."

He looked down, staring at
the battered little leather notebook he carried in his jacket
pocket. But she suspected he wasn't paying any attention to the
notes he'd made. His shoulders rose and fell on a sigh and then he
looked up, his gaze locking with hers. "I know that, Rock. I just
worry. I don't want to see you hurt."

"I don't want to see me
hurt, either." She forced herself to smile. "Hurt, bad. I get
that."

He skimmed a hand back
through his hair. "Lady, I hope you do. Okay, then. So you'll call
if you need me, right? No matter how small a thing it
seems?"

"Absolutely." And she meant
it. She was not going to be a victim again. It wasn't going to
happen.

"Alright. I don't like this,
not any of it. But alright." He blew out a breath. A forced smile
came and went on his face. "So. You still seeing that lawyer or did
you at least wise up on that level?"

Until then, Lacey had kept
quiet, but now she groaned and said, "Damn it, Clayton, leave her
love life out of it." She made a face at Rocki. "I think he's still
hung up on you and having issues. Just ignore him."

Rocki tensed, the idea
making her ridiculously uncomfortable. From the corner of her eye,
she saw a red flush creeping up Clayton's neck, across his face.
His voice was easy enough as he said, "Oh, I've got all sorts of
issues. My kid sister's best friend is dating a lawyer—that would
give anybody a complex."

"Yeah, I'm still seeing the
lawyer." Absently, she toyed with her hair. She'd woven it into two
long braids today. Unaware of the smile on her face, she stared out
the window. "We're going out tomorrow night."