Slave to Love (44 page)

“And then?” he asked. As if he really wasn’t sure what would happen now with them. As though he might actually believe her submission had only been an act.

She smiled at his uncertainty. Loving him more with each moment that went by. Knowing she was truly safe with him. That she could trust him with her love. With her body. With her happiness. And that there was no one else on earth she’d rather spend her life with.

Chapter 29

 Mick unfurled his body, stretched it out on top of Caro so he covered every inch of her, from their entwined fingers above her head, to her ankles, held firmly in place by the muscles of his lower legs. The slice in his back throbbed dully under the thick bandage, but not enough to stop him.

They had made it through a night of hospitals, statements, a veritable media frenzy and even Captain Trujillo, after which Mick had brought Caro back to his apartment. The whole time he’d felt someone following them, lurking in the shadows, watching their every move. Ratcheting up his nerves. Now they were in his bed, and he was nervous as hell, restless as a caged animal.

This was it. The final act. The place where his fate would be decided. What he had worked so hard for over the past two months. The final resolution of his guilt and his impotent fury.

He looked down at his lover and tightened his hold on her. He wanted to cover her, to dominate her, to hold her down so she could never move out from under him. To subsume her body into his, her life into his, her soul into his. To keep her safe. He hated that he’d had to use her like this. Despised himself for putting her in danger, especially in this last unsuspected scene. But he was too close to turn back now. And she’d made her choice. As had he.

Damn he wanted her.

Putting his mouth over hers, he thrust his tongue into her. Tasting her sweet tension, her desire for him. Her eagerness for his possession.

Nerves on fire, he rubbed his stiff cock against her clit and felt her squirm.

“Who do you belong to?” he asked into her mouth.

“You, Master,” she whispered, chasing him with her tongue.

He allowed her to kiss him, her passion seeping into him like a powerful drug, calming his fears, then he tore his mouth away. “Who do you love?” he demanded softly.

“You, Master,” she answered, breathless. “I love you.”

He grunted in approval, feeling her tight little nipples poke into his chest. God, he loved that. But he wanted more.

More.

He teased her clit even harder, making her pant.

“What would you like your Master to do to you?”

She whimpered, low and sweet and pleading, just how he liked it. “Tie me up and fuck me, Master. Fuck me hard, so I can feel you deep inside me.”

Her words dizzied him. He loved how Caro loved to be dominated. She loved to be tied up, and he loved doing it to her. He reveled in the power. Thrilled to the struggle she put up. Basked in her inevitable submission to his will.

“It would be my pleasure,” he said, the tension in his muscles crackling anew. Perfect. This was exactly how he needed her. He wanted to control the situation totally, and this was the best way. The only way.

Sitting up stiffly, he reached for the orange scarves from his kit bag next to the bed, but his elbow knocked the gun on the night stand to the floor. With a sharp oath he swiped it up and stuck it in its usual place under his pillow, then grabbed the scarves.

“Wrists,” he ordered her, fighting to get his fingers to stop trembling.

Caro lifted her wrists and gazed up at him expectantly. At her look, his heart swelled with feeling for the strong woman who’d chosen to become his pleasure slave. “Have I told you lately how much I love you, little slave?” he murmured, swiftly binding the scarves around her wrists. “How lost I’d be without you?”

Her lips parted, her eyes suddenly vulnerable. “Really? Do you really love me, Mick?”

He paused in his task. “I do, Caroline.” He took a cleansing breath. “No matter what happens, always know that I love you.”

“What do you mean—”

He cut off her question with a kiss, and finished binding her. “I’m tying this in a slip-knot,” he said, pulling at the scarf on her right wrist.
Just in case
. “But no fingernails in the back, all right?”

She winced, eying the white bandage that wound around him, protecting his wounded back. “Your cut... Are you sure you want to do this tonight?”

Unsmiling, he met her gaze. “I have no choice. And neither do you.” He yanked the knot taut on her left wrist, then threaded the two scarves through the spindles of the headboard and tied them behind it.

Her tongue swiped over her lips. “Mick—”

“Master!” he barked, making her jump. He leaned down close to her face. “I love you, but never forget, when we are in this bed I
own
you. You’ll do everything I say, exactly as I tell you.”

With satisfaction, he felt a tremor go through her body and she went soft under him. “Yes, Master,” she whispered.

After a slight hesitation, he whipped out three more scarves and tied one securely around her eyes. Then he bound her ankles to the corners of the footboard, leaving her close to helpless.

“Is this—”

“Do you question me?” he said sharply, causing her to shrink into the mattress.

“No, Master.”

“Good. Because if you question me I’d have to punish you.”

Her knees splayed reflexively. “Yes, Master. If you think I deserve it.”

“Spread your legs wider,” he ordered, and watched as she scooted down a bit and spread them far apart, exposing her smooth-shaved sex to his view. His cock jerked up, hard and hungry. “Stay exactly like that,” he told her, then rose and walked out of the room.

He went to the dining table and fetched a chair, deliberately scraping its legs on the carpet as he brought it back into the bedroom and placed it at the foot of the bed with a thunk.

“What are you doing?” Unable to see, she tilted her head toward the noise. Her hands flexed nervously.

“I’m expecting company,” he said, and she caught her breath.

“Who?” she asked.

“Who would you like it to be?” he countered. She remained silent. “Bobby?” he pressed. “Or Tim? Or maybe Cody...”

Her body undulated as she pulled at her bonds. “I only want you, Mick. Nobody else.”

He felt a surge of gratification. Just before he heard a light click from the front door, which he’d deliberately left unlocked. To let in the shadows. Her head jerked toward the nearly inaudible sound.

“Baby,” she said, her voice rising to a squeak. “What’s going on?”

He swallowed heavily. It was time.

“Just let it happen,” he said, and walked to his kit bag to fetch a pair of leather gloves. “Trust me.”

Too late to stop now.

***

Caro started to tremble. Small shivers coursed through her powerless muscles. Whatever was going on, she didn’t like it. Not after the events they’d already endured tonight. She wanted to be alone with Mick. To confirm for herself she hadn’t lost him now the case was over. That he truly loved her.

What was he up to?

“Let what happen?” she asked, but he remained mute. She heard him walk around the room, stopping at the open bedroom door. Then something rustled and the chair seat squeaked. Had someone else come in? After a moment stretched out in echoing silence, somebody approached the bed.

“Who’s there?” she whispered, trembling even harder. “What are you going to do to me?” She tugged at the scarves tying her to the bed, scraped at her blindfold with a shoulder, but they didn’t budge.

With an effort she held herself still, listening carefully as he—whoever he was—slowly circled the bed.

She started to shake. “Please, whoever you are—”

She caught a whiff of masculine aftershave.
Not Mick’s
. But it smelled familiar. Bobby’s? Or was it Cody’s? Frantically she tried to recall how each of the men smelled, but her brain was too frazzled to remember. Or maybe Tim...

Suddenly something firm and buttery touched between her thighs and pushed up into her. She cried out and tried to close her legs but her ankle bindings held them wide apart. It pulled out of her then pushed back in. A finger.
A gloved finger
.

“Ohhh!” she cried when it slid out and circled her clit. Her nipples spiraled to points and her knees jerked further apart.

“No!” she called into the taut silence, a bundle of confusion. “I don’t want this!” But clearly her body did.

And whoever it was knew it.

His mouth closed over one of her aching nipples, sending her off the bed in a bowstring arch. He bit down on it, and flicked it with his tongue.

She moaned. “Please,” she whimpered. “I want Mick.”

Maybe it
was
Mick. She lifted her head, trying to reach him as he laved her breast with his hot, wet mouth. If she could just taste him, or smell his skin, she would know if it was Mick. But he pulled away, leaving a scented trail of aftershave and mint.

She yanked on the scarves again as he started caressing her body with his leather-gloved hands. Suddenly, behind her ear a muffled, gravelly male voice asked, “Tell me how Mick fucks you.”

She was too stunned to reply. Then it hit her.
This was exactly what Smythe did to his victims
.

But...they’d just arrested Smythe! It
couldn’t
be him. And Mick would never—

Her tormentor’s finger feathered over her clit. “Tell me how Mick fucks you.” The voice was too distorted to tell, as if he spoke through a thick layer of cotton or cloth. “Or I’ll have to fuck you myself to find out.”

Unwilling arousal slashed through her like a flash fire. Did she
want
him to fuck her?

Who was he ?

She licked her bottom lip. Was Mick there watching? He had to be. Sitting in the chair he’d brought in earlier, watching his friend threaten to fuck her. Was this turning him on as much as it was her?

She licked her lips again. “He... He has a huge cock,” she whispered.

“Louder!” he demanded, his muffled voice gruff.

“He has a huge cock,” she blurted out, “and he puts it inside me.”

Her tormentor’s finger circled her clit slowly while a large gloved hand grasped her breast and squeezed. “Where?”

She was finding it difficult to concentrate. “Um...”

The finger stopped. “
Where
?”

“Anywhere he wants!”

The finger started up again and the hand switched to her other breast. She felt her intimate folds blossom wide, inviting a more thorough invasion of her flesh. She moaned in trepidation at the uncontrolled licentiousness of her body. Was there no end to the lengths it would go for pleasure?

But what could she do, tied up as she was, unable to deny this unknown man’s demands?

“Tell me,” the voice coaxed with graveled authority.

“My cunt,” she whispered.

“Louder!”

“My cunt! And my mouth. And my ass.”

She writhed as his finger slid mercilessly back and forth over her clit and his other hand plucked at the tips of her breasts. His tongue lapped at her stomach, dipping wetly into her belly button. She groaned, pleading with him to stop.

But for some reason the words got jumbled up and she realized she was begging him
not
to stop.

He stopped.

“Keep talking,” he said, gathering her breasts in his rough-gloved hands. He climbed on top of her, sitting at the nexus of her thighs. His legs were naked, and his tight, swollen balls squashed against her bare, blossomed sex. He grasped her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and rolled them until she cried out.

“
Talk
.”

Unable to help herself, she did, just to keep him touching her. As he caressed every part of her body with his rough velvet hands, she told him in dazzling detail about everything Mick did to her. She told him about how good Mick felt, how he used his fingers and tongue to make her feel untold pleasures, until she was panting with need. As she told him the things Mick did that she liked best, she realized he’d slid down between her legs. Then he roughly thrust his cock inside her.