Cuff Master (31 page)

“Jeez, are you going to…” Morgan couldn’t finish.

Her Master’s gaze was intent upon the white four-inch-long
candle he held in one hand as he lit the wick. He reared back and stayed very
still, becoming a masked bandit. His cloak was safely out of the way of the
flame.

His chest gleamed with the sheen of sweat and honed muscle
flexed and trembled, taunting her to rise up and lick him clean. Sadly, she couldn’t
due to her handcuffs. Whoa, he looked incredibly dominant and masterful.

The flame from the candle flickered, yet she didn’t notice a
particular scent from the rather ordinary-looking candle. The candelabrum was
still giving off delicious spicy aromas, the smell of cinnamon and sex was
seductive.

Ethan shocked her with what he did next. Dammit, he pulled
out of her pussy, laying his bare, feminine cum-slickened cock upon her mons.
Watching him blow out the match, she held her breath while he waited until the
wisp of smoke vanished before dropping it on the table a safe distance away.

He dipped the candle, letting wax drip right onto his arm
the way a mom tested heated baby formula, let out a breath and dripped wax on
his cock.

“Ethan, it’ll burn!”

“It’s okay, honey, it feels damn good. Paraffin candles are
not too hot, not too cool, they’re just right.”

With his free hand, he rubbed the wax off his penis,
dripping on himself again. When he seemed sure the melting wax would not scorch
Morgan, he turned the candle ever so slightly and a tear-shaped glob fell on
the left side of his cock and ran down to her mons before solidifying.

“Oh…” she sighed, loving the sensual flare of warmth that
spread from him to her.

More wax dripped, coating him, coating her, mixing and
mingling. Ethan gradually drew back, wiped off the wax and moved himself into
position between her thighs and thrust into her.

Losing touch with reality, Morgan gave herself over to
Ethan’s capable hands. The wax was hot, but not once did it scorch her flesh.
More wax dribbled on her breasts, her nipples and her tummy before the candle
burned too low. Ethan blew it out, put it aside and settled in to fuck her
missionary style.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he invited, permitting her to
hug him tight with her thighs and secure her ankles at the small of his back.

Ethan stretched out over her, running his fingers to the
handcuffs binding her to the table before encircling her wrists to hold on
tight. Giving her more strength, more courage, he made love to her, bringing
sweet tears to her eyes.

If this was the discipline she’d get for being bad, she
didn’t want to be good anymore. Ethan’s fucking was beautiful, kind and
reverent, making her more aware of him than ever. His cock felt incredibly
huge, thick and hard as steel. He filled her, completed her.

“Come whenever you’re ready,” he uttered, his thrusts more
deliberate.

Morgan welcomed the sweetness, her pleasure absolute as
orgasm stole through her in gentle waves. Ethan let go of her right wrist once,
disengaged long enough to reach between their joined bodies and remove his cock
ring and kissed her sweetly as he thrust inside her body and cum jettisoned
into her seconds later.

Lost in the variety of sensations and a high-level buzz
shimmering through her entire body, Morgan closed her eyes to absorb it all and
drifted off into sub dreamland, unknowingly releasing the ball in her hand.

Ethan paused in mid-thrust. Morgan dropped her ball.

Remaining in tune with her, he rose up. As soon as he saw
that she wasn’t panicked, he relaxed. A smile was on her face. Her eyes were
closed. Her skin glowed.

She was off in her own world, subspace.

Carefully, he withdrew and unhooked her wrists and removed
her bonds, then rubbed her muscles to get her circulation flowing even though
she wouldn’t feel it. To be sure she was okay, he checked her pulse, normal.

Relieved, he had to smile. She was so far gone that he
figured her flight would last for hours. He hadn’t even gotten to everything
he’d planned for her tonight, however it was a sure bet he’d finish another
time.

Wanting to get her into bed so she could sleep it off, Ethan
moved off the table, stripped himself of the cloak, mask and knee pads and
picked her up. Without disturbing her orbit, he blew out the candles and
carried her out of the dungeon.

He paused as he entered the bedroom. Morgan murmured
something about her father and grandmother. Knowing her dad and grandma were
important to her, Ethan figured it was a good thing for her to communicate with
them in her dreams.

Her talents as a psychic still baffled him, but he no longer
doubted that Morgan could converse with those who’d passed on. He’d heard the
evidence of it on his EVP recorder.

Afraid to risk having her wake up and crash too fast, he
carried her to their bed, set her down long enough to turn down the covers and
settled her onto the mattress.

Morgan whispered again, this time about a dog. She sounded
very sweet and very happy. That’s what he’d wanted for her. He’d done his job
and there was still room to grow.

Leaving Morgan long enough to go into the bathroom to fill a
small plastic basin with warm soapy water and grab a washcloth and towel, he
returned to his lady and gently removed traces of cum, juice, wax and sweat,
then dried her off.

When she woke up, he’d help her brush her teeth and use the
toilet.

For the time being, Ethan would enjoy holding her while she
continued flying through her secret world. He’d been aware of her needs, of how
close she was to jetting off into subspace when he decided to use the candle.

Hell, he’d not planned to drip hot wax on his dick, but it
had been crazily sexy to risk the discomfort for Morgan’s sake. He’d far rather
scorch his rod than have her suffer even the tiniest of blisters. The fact that
he enjoyed the intense warmth of paraffin on his skin and shaft surprised him.

It was a first for him. But he’d been careful not to drip on
the most sensitive areas, on either of them. Morgan was precious to him. If
he’d left a blister on her, he’d personally let Phalen kick his ass six ways to
Sunday and Taran could do his worst after Ethan’s bruises were gone.

Washing up in the basin and drying himself off, Ethan took
the basin back to the bathroom, dumped the water and cleaned up any mess he’d
left behind. He’d clean up the dungeon and kitchen after Morgan woke up. He’d
far rather return to bed with her and hold her for a while.

Ethan snapped off lights as he walked to the bed, saw that
Morgan was fine and climbed in beside her. Bringing her to rest with her head
on his chest, he settled the covers around them and let himself relax and come
down from his own Dom’s buzz.

Everything was good. Morgan was safe. They’d had an
incredible night of dungeon fun. Yet cop’s instinct wouldn’t let him rest until
he checked in with his partner.

While he’d made dinner, he’d arranged to have his cellphone
calls forwarded to his home number since he knew he’d be unable to get to the
cell easily. He carefully scooted around to avoid waking Morgan and grabbed the
cordless phone on his bedside table.

A quick dial of his PIN number gave him access to voicemails
that had come in since he’d come home.

“Ethan, give me a call when you get this message. No time is
too late,” Sam said. “I’ve got news on Erica White, and Captain Morrison is
giving us permission to reopen Jenna Bailey’s files but it’s complicated.”

That was all Ethan needed to hear to call his partner back.
A glance at the clock showed that it was two in the morning. Shit!

Sam answered after the third ring. “About time you called,”
she said without much preamble.

“Sorry, partner, got a little tied up with something,” Ethan
said, turning his eyes to his woman. Morgan was beautiful, even mussed and
looking very much as if she’d spent the last few hours fucking on a bondage
table. “What did you find out about Erica?”

“Something huge, found a connection between Erica White and
Spencer Bailey that he and his billionaire family managed to cover up for
years.”

“Bastard told us he’d never met Erica until she became his
wife’s psychic advisor.”

“Oh they knew each other.”

“In your message, you said Morrison’s going to let us reopen
Jennifer Bailey’s case?”

“I was able to convince the captain to let me get hold of
her original autopsy records.”

“What did you find?”

“Several inconsistencies compared to the other victims and
they’re not our fault, Ethan. We turned everything we had on the Bailey case
over to vice, who became the primaries due to the nature of the sex slavery
ring they’d been investigating for months.”

Morgan stirred a little. Ethan calmed her by unraveling her
ruined braid and running his fingers through her hair.

“What kind of inconsistencies?” he asked, keeping his voice
quiet.

“ME states that in conjunction with the severity of her
burns, Jenna had two head wounds, a bullet hole to the temple and bludgeoning
to the back of the head. Here’s the thing, there was no exit wound and the slug
was recovered. The ME also estimated that Jenna was the first of the eight
girls found to be killed.”

“How the fuck was that overlooked by the prosecution?”

“Captain wants us to find out why and we’re to report the
findings to IA. This is huge, partner. Those other seven victims were bound and
shot point blank in the back of the head, execution style. Frankly, there
wasn’t enough gray matter or skull fragments left to determine if they were
bludgeoned too.”

“Tell me more, Sam. If I remember correctly, the gun
recovered from the scene was a 9 mill semiautomatic. Was it the murder weapon?”
He already knew the answer. He had to ask anyway.

“In seven of them, yes. My gut tells me the shooting of
Jenna Bailey was an afterthought to cover up something. I want to check the
crime scene unit’s findings on shell casings and any other guns found. Somebody
covered up the details, either to make sure Terrence Mills went down or to
protect whoever killed Jenna.”

“Shit, heads are gonna roll for this,” Ethan said. “We’ll do
what we need to do. When do you want to get started?”

“Tonight,” Sam stated. “I’m compiling all the data I have
from NYPD on Erica White as we speak and sending it to you.”

“Sorry, partner, there’s not much I can do tonight. Morgan’s
sound asleep and I really can’t leave her.” Leaving a sub when they were lost
in subspace was irresponsible and dangerous if they were to crash in the middle
of it.

From now on, he’d take Morgan into the dungeon only when he
knew he wouldn’t be called away on a case.

“Tomorrow morning then, first thing,” Sam offered.

“Okay. Come by the house. I’ll get some shuteye and take a
look at those files before you get here. If there’s a tie between Spencer
Bailey and Erica White that goes beyond Erica being Alisa Bailey’s psychic
adviser, it could change everything we thought we knew on this case.”

“Morrison says we can’t go near Bailey until we have
something concrete enough to get a warrant. For now, we’re to look into the
investigation of Jenna Bailey’s death only. She’s the one whose records are
inconsistent with the rest of the girls. No matter what, we can’t let Terrence
Mills’ defense lawyer overturn his conviction.”

“I’m not touching any other case. That sick bastard was
trafficking runaways as sex slaves. He deserves to rot in prison.”

“Damn straight, most of those girls were written off by
their families. They didn’t deserve that.”

“No one does, partner,” Ethan said, sympathizing with Sam
because he knew exactly where she was coming from. There was a very good reason
his partner chose to work with runaways and missing persons, who frequently
were young and impressionable.

“Ethan, I’ve ignored several calls from your brother tonight.
He likes to leave messages asking me out on occasion, but why has he suddenly
become more of a pain in my ass?”

“Come on, Sam. You know Taran wants you. You want him. Don’t
try to deny it.”

“I’m not sure I want him anymore, partner. Dammit, he’s too
beautiful for me.”

Ethan wanted to knock some sense into his partner’s thick
head. “Fuck that, Samantha Riley. You’re worth a hundred women. Taran knows
that. Give him a chance.”

“You’re biased.”

“Sure I am. Doesn’t change the fact that Taran can help you
get over what James and Mark put you through. You just need to trust him.”

“Don’t worry. Never again will a guy use me the way they
did. I don’t care how young and stupid I was to trust them in the first place.”

“If you don’t let Taran in, you’ll regret it for the rest of
your life.”

“I have to go. See you first thing, I’ll bring coffee.
Morgan will be there, won’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, three coffees and doughnuts.”

“Sounds great, bye, Sam.” Ethan ended the call and listened
to more messages.

A call from the officer in Danvers investigating what
happened to Morgan at Druid Creek Castle pissed Ethan off. Being sure he heard
right, he damn near punched the closest wall.

Sonofabitch! How did he tell Morgan that Remington Sinclair
was the primary person of interest in the case? Danvers police couldn’t find
the man and wanted to know if Morgan had a contact number.

“Fuck me with a stick!” he cursed, causing Morgan to toss
her head.

“Ethan?” she called out, half opening her eyes. “Are you
okay?”

“I’m fine, baby. Go back to sleep, dream. I’ll wake you up
in a little while so you can brush your teeth and use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” she murmured, drifting back to her cozy world. He
wished to God that he could join her.

In the morning, Ethan would have to talk to her. But shit,
he’d liked, even trusted, Remy. If the bastard was a danger to her, Ethan would
end him.