Freed (15 page)

“Wow,” I say, not-so elegantly, because, well … wow. Who knew? “Does he know about me?”

“He does. He doesn’t know who you are, or who I am, for that matter. But he knows the pertinent information about our relationship and where I’d like to see it go, which I’ve shared with you. Anyway, he’s really smart. He has me keep a journal of what being dominate means to me, and has me analyze those thoughts.” He waves a hand around. “It’s all very reflective.”

“Huh,” is my only response.

Ransom’s hand lightly cups my jaw. “Are you worried about it?”

“Oh, no,” I stammer quickly. “It’s just … a lot to take in. I’m having fun.”

“Speaking of having fun,” he taunts, running his hand back over my braid. Tilting my head, he feasts on my lips for a minute, and chases all other thoughts from my head. “You in the mood to play?” he questions against my lips, his eyes searching mine.

“Uh, huh,” I breathe.

“Go get ready,” he says, tapping his hand against my hip.

Chapter Twelve

Ransom

J
UST STANDING HERE
imagining her waiting for me has my pulse thundering. I can’t go to her yet, though. My mind is playing havoc over making her say again, out loud, how she loves Greer. I may not be a jealous person by nature, but damn if that doesn’t get my defenses up. I don’t hold it against her, but I’d be a fool to pretend it doesn’t rattle me. I’ve loved someone else, and for me, once I love, I don’t stop. I don’t think anyone truly does. Only thing is, while I may still hold onto a certain kind of love, I’m certainly not
in
love with that person anymore. Nope, my heart is completely and utterly owned by one hot, little barrel racer. I remember how bad it hurt when Victoria upended my world by admitting she cheated on me while she was at college. She knew I’d never get past it and be able to be with her, but I respect the hell out of her for telling me, knowing she’d lose me. I thought I’d never feel pain like that again, but just the thought of loving Denver like I do, and losing her to Greer, nearly brings me to my knees.

Who’s to say what happened between them was enough to break a bond that was forged so deep and for so long? Sometimes I see the longing for him in her eyes, and while I understand it, it still hurts like hell. All I can hope for is that she feels strongly enough for me, to want me over him. Well, I always did like a challenge, and I know I’m up for it. I’m up for anything with her.

Running a hand over the stubble on my chin, I try to bring myself back from those dark thoughts and focus on the here and now. I know she wants to be with me. I know her feelings for me run deep. I know she’s getting confident in what we’re building. And more than anything, I know she responds to me, so that’s what I’ll focus on tonight.

I make my way through the apartment, locking up and discarding our half-empty beers. I stifle a laugh at her reaction to my offering it to her. She’s so damn cute, and she’s trying so damn hard. I reiterated the difference between having a beer or two, and drinking yourself into oblivion. If she can respect that line, then she’s good. If not, then she needs to avoid it. Simple as that.

I enter my dimly lit room and barely glance at the top of her head as I move toward my closet. I like our R & B themed music, so I leave it. Taking out what I need from my hiding spot, I toss the items on the nightstand, knowing the sound, and casual movement, will have her interest piqued. I fold down the covers on the bed, taking a little extra time to build her anticipation. As much as she claims to loathe it, I know it turns her on.

Without further ado, I close the distance between us and cup her chin with my hand. Bringing her eyes to mine, I let my gaze do the talking. I know she sees how much I want her, how beautiful I know she is, and how much I respect her. I only hope she can see how much I love her.

Bending down, I release her chin and clasp her hand in mine, helping her stand. “I am in awe of you,” I muse when she’s standing before me. Knowing Denver won’t speak unless I ask her a question, works in my favor right now. She has to accept my praise without making a self-depreciating joke or stating her outright denial, so I take advantage of it. “The very first thing that appealed to me when I first noticed you back in Texas was your strength, and you were barely eighteen years old. You’ve taken a hit or ten since then, and it may have left you bruised and battered, but you’ve held on to who you are.” My voice seems to fade a little, so I pause before infusing it with all that I feel for her. “You are amazing, little fighter. I want to make you feel as amazing as you are. You up for that?”

Denver licks her lips and gives me a playful smile. “You bet, John.”

I crook an eyebrow at her. “Sorry?”

“Oh, um. Yes, John,” she corrects.

“Feeling sassy tonight, Denver?” I allow her to get away with shaking her head
no,
even though the look she gives me is anything but repentant. I’m not in the mood to punish her tonight. I want to worship her.

Gripping her braid in my fist, I angle her head and kiss the smirk off her mouth until she’s rubbing her body against mine.

Leading her to the bed, I ease down and pull her to kneel between my legs. I don’t miss her appreciative gaze as it sweeps over my chest and down to my crotch and back up again. Even though my body is scarred and tattered, she makes me feel like it’s the best thing she’s ever seen. I resist the urge to puff up my chest with pride. When something as beautiful as she is admires you, you can’t help but bask in it. I find myself asking her the very question I asked her all those months ago during our first ever conversation. “So, do I measure up?” I ask casually.

Honey-warmed eyes meet mine. “You know you do. You know I think you’re beautiful.”

“Show me how beautiful you think I am,” I tell her. I had other plans, but she makes me want to improvise. A little spark seems to make her eyes even brighter. I bring her with me as I scoot back to rest against the headboard. Her lips find mine for a teasing kiss, before she works her way down my throat. Her kisses act as a soothing balm over my aching collarbone, and I can’t fight the groan that escapes me. Matter of fact, I don’t even try. I want her to know how good she makes me feel. Her hands come up to massage my biceps as she works me over with her mouth. No one has ever touched me the way she does—reverent and loving. When her tongue darts out to sweep over my pecs, my hands fist in her hair. She groans when I direct her movements over me, biting and teasing her way along. She’s worked her way low enough so that her breasts are moving against the fabric of my jeans, making her moan in appreciation of the friction.

When I feel the urge to throw her on her back and rut against her like an animal, I grasp her head and force her mouth back up to mine. I kiss her until we need oxygen again, and then I kiss her one more time for good measure. Spinning her around, I fit her between my legs and lean her back against me. Trailing my fingertips over her arms, I lavish her neck with gentle, teasing kisses. I suck against the sensitive skin behind her ear until she’s rubbing her legs together.
Oh, yeah
. She’s ready.

I slide a hand over the nightstand and bring back her blindfold. “Do you like it when you can’t see what’s coming? When you don’t know what to anticipate, but you’re anticipating all the same?”

“Yes, John,” she barely croaks.

“Mmm … me too. I love how much you trust me to take care of you.” I slip it over her eyes and angle her head back to rest against my shoulder. I slide the other items from the stand and pull them onto my hands. I move the hand now covered in soft, downy material over her breast and am rewarded with a gentle moan. Fitting her breast in my hand, I run my index finger over her nipple until it forms a tight little bud.

“You like that?”

“Mmm, hmm,” she moans.

I tease it and torture it for a few minutes, treating myself to all the sexy sounds of Denver’s pleasure. My lips never leave her neck so that we remain fused together. Dropping that hand, I bring my leather-clad hand over the other breast, to give it the same attention. When she feels the roughened, well-used glove on her nipple, she nearly shoots out of my arms.

“Oh my God. Oh! What … is that what I think it is?” I grin against her neck and bite at it a little. “It is. It’s your riding glove. Oh my God,” she groans.

Pinching and teasing, I work it over good before bringing the soft-gloved hand up again to work them in tandem. It’s not long before she’s bucking and mewling against the mattress.

“Touch yourself, Denver,” I command. I can hear my own impending orgasm in my voice. I better move this along before I come in my damn pants.

“Wh—what?”

“You heard me.” Her body tenses a little. “Have you ever done that?”

“Umm … a little.”

I lean in and whisper, “Wet your fingers and work your clit.” I almost chuckle at her surprised intake of breath.

When she slips her hand under her little, red, lacy panties, I have to close my eyes tight for a second. I man up and force them back open.
Can’t go missing this show, now can I?
She tenses again as her fingers disappear inside her, so I intensify the pressure on her breasts, ratcheting up her need. My awe increases ten-fold when she follows my whispered commands. I’ve taught a lot of girls how to pleasure themselves, but watching Denver’s slender hand working herself into a frenzy is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. When I tell her that exact thing, she relaxes and rides the waves of her pleasure, taking what was already hot, and setting it to scorching.

Needing to feel her for myself, I rip my gloves off and place one hand over hers on the outside of her panties. I yank the blindfold off with my other hand. “Watch us,” I whisper. My index finger moves over hers for the briefest of moments before she comes apart in my arms. On the tail end of her orgasm, I angle her head back and smash my lips against hers.

If I told any of the boys that my favorite part about pleasuring Denver is holding her in my arms waiting for her to recover from her blissed-out state, they’d fucking laugh their asses off. Obviously, I won’t be imparting that information to anyone, but I’ll be honest with myself. Knowing I’m the one to rock her world, make her feel good, and then make her feel safe, is like climbing Mt. Everest, free-falling from an airplane, and riding the world’s craziest bull—all rolled into one. She makes me feel ten feet tall and bulletproof. I unbraid her hair and run my fingers through the length, until I feel the curls unwind to soft waves. When she starts to doze off, I kiss her forehead and slip away to the bathroom to take care of my own desperate state.

Chapter Thirteen

Ransom

“
R
ANSOM?”
W
ARM LIPS
on my chest. I try to open my eyes. Soft, quick breaths on my neck. Maybe keeping my eyes closed will ensure she keeps doing all that. She calls my name again, a little impatiently this time. As I shake off the last dregs of sleep, I realize she’s trembling against me, and my eyes shoot open.

I run my hands over her arms and feel her chill. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I had a nightmare. I need you,” she whispers. I must have been exhausted, because I’d never slept through one of her nightmares.

Coming up on one elbow, I push her against the mattress and stretch over her to flip the lamp on. Her eyes are round with worry, a frown marring her features. “I’m sorry, Denver. Sorry I didn’t wake you up. I didn’t even hear you or feel you dreaming.”

Shaking her head, she runs a hand over my scruff, focusing her attention on the light touch. “It wasn’t that nightmare. I told you I haven’t had it for weeks.”

God, is she having new nightmares? I thought we were making progress. Damn it. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. OK?” I prop myself up over her, running my hands over her hair and planting kisses on her forehead.

Her breath catches in her throat, and she nods her head against mine. “It was the scariest one I’ve ever had,” she whimpers.

“Shh … tell me.”

“You turned your back on me.”

The wind is forced out of me, and I sit up abruptly on my knees. They scream in protest, but I ignore them. I stare down out her, and I don’t miss her shiver. Her hair splays out wildly across my pillow; the feral look in her eyes matches it perfectly. “That’s not gonna happen, little fighter. Even if things don’t work out with us, I care about you and would never turn my back on you. That’s a promise.”

“I have to tell you something, and I’m scared of your reaction.”

“Fuck, Denver.” My exasperation cuts through my voice like a whip. “Out of all the shit you’ve confessed, have I ever given you the impression that I can’t cope?”

She gives a jaded laugh. “For once, this isn’t about me.”

I must have confusion etched over my face, because she scrambles to her knees and soothes my forehead with her fingertips. Cupping the back of my head between her hands, her eyes burn into mine as she whispers fiercely, “What would you do if you knew a secret that wasn’t yours to tell, but
not
telling it might cost you everything? If you knew something that would change everything about someone you loved? What would you do? Would you tell?”

I don’t hesitate. That’s a no brainer for me. “Of course. I’d rather deal with the fallout than hide something from someone I care about. Secrets always have a way of working themselves out into the light, and usually in the worst possible way.”

A small smile brightens her eyes. “That’s exactly what I thought. It’s just one of the things I love about you.” Oh, fuck. My fucking heart. Don’t quit on me now. “You’re so noble. Do you know that?”

Do I have a voice anymore? Let’s see. “I don’t know about that. I just know I try to do the right thing, especially for those I care about.”

“And that’s another thing. Those damn instincts of yours. Always spot on. You usually know exactly what the right thing is, Ransom.”