Yield (7 page)

Bullshit. I was a man. She was a woman. She’d gotten off on me telling her to fingerfuck herself upstairs.

“I know you’re not. You’re a beautiful woman with more dollars than some small countries. But this isn’t a stock market transaction. I’m the only way you’re getting closer to Vetrov and after all this time searching, you know that.”

She didn’t try to argue. Good.

“That’s one half of what this night is about. Now you can forget it. Answer my question. Are you afraid of me?”

Her throat worked. “Some. If I had a gun in my hand, less so.”

The return of the feistiness. “Guns are cheap courage. You haven’t got one. It’s just me and you. I think a little fear is good for you.”

“So I get to scare you too?”

I laughed. “Try me. Besides, when I said you, I meant you specifically. You’ve got some sort of thing for me making you do things while I threaten you. Coincidentally, I like doing it.”

“That’s not...”

“Are you going to lie?” Oh denial was a bitch.

She drew in a long breath. “You make it sound crazy.”

“We are what we are. Everyone is a little crazy inside.” I reached the steps and sat. “Sit in my lap.”

She tugged at my hand and I resisted easily.

“Sit.”

She sucked in her lip. “No.”

I dragged her lower and said my next words into her ear, rumbling, and probably a little threatening, which was the whole point. “Sit the fuck down or I’ll do something you’ll regret.”

“Huh.” Her answer seemed to barely escape her throat and I felt her shiver under my hand. “You wouldn’t.”

“No?” I smiled. “Short memory, Wren. Five seconds.”

Her wet hair had swung across her face again. All I could see was the movement of her lips as she mouthed curses under her breath. Water plinked into the pool.

Then, after one last huff, she gave in. Though she tried to sit with both legs to one side of me, I stopped her, tapping her nose. “No, sweetheart, straddle me. I want to be able to touch you properly.

“Oh.” She shifted and ended up how I wanted her – legs either side of my lap and her facing me. The water lapped at her belly button. Droplets cruised down her front from her wet-through bikini top. We were under the building here, since it overhung the shallow end. A fluorescent in the stairway cast light through the glass door and onto her body.

What was going through her head? I could see she had her bottom lip caught between her teeth. From how she’d reacted upstairs, taking charge with a fucking vengeance was my best move.

I thumbed away some hair from her cheek. Even that seemed to make her lips relax and part.

Being an officer had drummed into me the advantages of knowing your situation. I came to a conclusion I’d been halfway to deciding was true anyway. I could hypnotize Wren with dominance and threats.

“Don’t say anything. Don’t move. I want to look at my property.”

The sharp intake of air as if she meant to interject made me stare down at her. She remained silent, only shifting slightly on my legs.

“The games we can have,” I murmured. “Make that, the games I can play with you.”

Then I put my hands up and ran my thumbs slowly down the inner edge of the cups of her top where they framed her cleavage. Though her breathing became heavier, she sat still for me, very still, apart from her thighs squeezing in on mine. The girl did like this.

I peeled the cloth aside, tucking it beneath each breast to bare them both. Her tits moved as I adjusted them. My poor aching cock tried to grow another inch. This game beat monopoly and poker, hands down. When I had sex, I normally admired the woman, but never with the same leisure as now. I’d never had someone be happy to be my little plaything, as Wren did, or be so enraptured by it. It was exhilarating.

Smoothing my thumbs around the dark coins of her areolae made her clench her thighs again.

“Pretty girl.” I did two more full, slow circles while I studied her face. “Keep being so good and I’ll reward you.”

Not a protest escaped her, just a single, almost inaudible shaky moan.

I decided my manifesto of the day was to touch every place on her, every perfection and imperfection. All of her drew my hands, from her shoulders to her slender fingers, to her thighs beneath the water. I felt like a sculptor feeling his way over stone, looking for the heart of it, deciding what was hidden in a piece of exquisite marble.

I ran my skin over hers. I ran her hair through my fingers. I caressed the sides of her face, her lips, and even her ears, marveling at the intricacies of the curves of such delicate parts of her. She kept me entertained with her measured sighs and how she leaned into each touch. Lastly, I held her breasts, those full mounds that said woman as much as the contours of her waist, the succulence of her ass, or her cunt.

“Remember, don’t move.”

“Mmm. What if I –”

“Nope. Or talking.” I dragged her to me by her nipples, ignoring her yelps. Then I bit her breasts, hard, one then the other, leaving dark, circular marks. Her burst of fuck, fuck, fuck and the clawing of her nails into my biceps were incredibly amusing and hot.

“You’re lucky I’m not sure fuck is a real word.”

“Mmm!” An indignant sound if ever there was one.

“Or that.” So cute when she was horny and angry.

When her panting lessened, I parted the lips of her pussy and nudged my fingertip in, an inch or so, wiggling it in and out of her cunt, until I figured her eyes might pop if I delayed fucking her any longer. But the temptation to tease her, just a few moments more, sucked me in. I thrust two fingers inside her at once, slowly at first then faster and with more gusto. With my thumb, I toggled the tiny engorged bump of her clit from side to side.

“Oh!” Wren stiffened.

“Like that?”

“Fuck. Gla –”

Whoa. Small mistake. One I didn’t regret as she wriggled on me making small noises, before she arched and cried out like a goddess in the throes of a supreme revelation. Climaxing.

I missed not a second of it.

Her grip would leave bruises on me. This goddess I could worship forever.

Should I make her come again? I got her close, playing with her pussy and fucking her thoroughly with my thick fingers.

If only I could video her writhing. Another time.

“Please! I need to. I need to.” Her whispers grew louder until I wondered if our neighbors had noticed. Her fingers dug into my biceps again, but she was hanging on, not trying to pull my hand away.

“Put your arms behind your back and hold your wrists.”

She hesitated.

“Now.”

Though looking unhappy, she did as I asked.

I wrapped my hand about one breast and squeezed until it must be hurting. She whined. Yet even underwater, I could feel the warmth as her moisture leaked past my cunt-submerged fingers. Her inner muscles clamped down hard.

Curious. Wren was definitely a masochist.

“When I take out my fingers, you’re going to lie down, ass up, over the top of these steps.”

The throb of my cock reminded me there was more to this than biting and fingerfucking.

I pulled out my fingers and shifted from under her.

I half expected a tsunami as she threw herself down. Instead I got this panting wreck of a woman standing on the step with her bikini askew, staring at me with hair stuck all over her shoulders and face.

When she moved, it was a luscious version of a crawl as she got down on all fours and flowed like a bitch on heat up those steps. My eyes were accustomed to the low light and I could see her pussy since the bottoms were still rolled away. Fuck this.

If she was teasing me with her sex, it had worked.

When she stopped and waggled her ass at me, while sprawled down those top steps with water under her knees and belly, I unclipped her top then used it to tie her left wrist to the lane ring.

“What are you doing?”

Rhetorical question? “Tying you the fuck up so you can’t get away.”

“I wasn’t...”

“Talking again?” I gave one ass cheek a stinging smack.

Her mouth formed an O and I kissed her hard. Then I yanked down her bottoms. Those I used to fasten her other wrist to the base of a metal safety railing.

“Now try waggling that butt.” I whipped down my shorts, taking the condom from the pocket. I ripped the packet open and rolled the condom onto my cock in record time. She peeked back at me, watching my every move. “If you were planning to run,” I teased her. “You can’t.”

“Can I talk?”

I nodded.

“I might. I would. Just to see you get mad.” That ass of hers swayed seductively again. I swear the moisture on her pussy glistened in the next sweep of headlights.

I covered her with my body and probed for her entrance. The tip of my cock sank in like it had found the promised land of milk and honey – inches deep, with ease. When I did a forceful fuck that slapped into her and hit bottom, she collapsed onto the step.

“Oh hell.” Wren groaned and pressed her ass back into me. “Oh...ohhh.”

“You like that?” I said to her ear.

Her first reply was more a whimper. Then: “Can’t...talk.”

I chuckled. “You poor thing. I’m going to take you now like a whore.” And I fucked her as I said it. In and out of that precious hole. Her pussy spasmed on me when I again shoved my cock in especially deep.

“Oh god. Yes. Yes.” She tucked her head down as if to hide.

None of that. I sank my fingers into her hair and dragged her head back, using it as a convenient anchor. My thrusts grew ever more violent. Her moans grew louder. The water slopped at me as I used her, plunging deep and hard, fucking her like I’d bought her for the night and wanted my money’s worth. I’d figured she’d like me making her a whore and I was so right. At her scream and the extreme arch of her spine when I pounded one spot, I fixed my cock on that target and bruised the hell out of her pussy. As I came, her even louder scream and the convulsions of her body made me smile like a fucking lunatic.

Done. Done and fucked.

I bit the angle of her neck and shoulder as I recovered. Then the other side. She squealed but barely moved. She was too busy sucking in air. Sweet exhausted girl. Another mark of mine on her.

Before I untied her, before she emerged from that orgasmic space she’d ventured into, with her every muscle limp and wrung out, I asked her one last question.

“Are you my whore, Wren? Are you my greedy little whore?”

Her eyelids flickered and she licked her lips, still with her eyes shut. Her voice was steady if husky. “Yes. Oh yes. I am.” Then she opened her eyes. “I am.”

Talk about gladdening the heart. Mine was having a party, balloons and streamers and stuff. No strippers though. I had a weird feeling of exclusivity about Wren – like she might be the one and only. Pity I had no real notion of what she felt. I’d snuck up on her with this question. Whore... In hindsight I should’ve phrased it differently, made it more romantic. Dumbass.

For a while, I lay with her on a sun lounge, with her cuddled to my chest, thinking about what this all meant for the future.

The few buzzing mosquitoes trying to suck our blood seemed paltry harbingers of doom.

How did you ask an heiress if she meant it when she said she was your whore?

I needed to tie her up again soon and get more answers.

“Glass,” she whispered, snuggling herself closer, if that was possible when we were skin to skin. “That was...”

I raised my head. “What?”

“Hmm?”

“It was what?”

Her breathing steadied, slowed.

A few minutes later, she began snoring.

I considered pinching her but relented and instead, lay there star watching with her curvy body in my arms. I put my nose to her wet hair and inhaled. She smelled like heaven and sex.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” I began softly.

Wren

The morning after a bout of scorching hot sex takes on a whole other meaning when you’ve let your partner tie you up.

I awoke in the massive bed to find him lying on his side, elbow propping him up, looking down at me from only inches away. The sumptuous mattress had conspired to sink me into a hollow.

My sky seemed to be composed of his naked chest and that eighth wonder of the world, the thick, intertwining muscles of a man’s arm. I smiled. No fan of the male physique could see such sights without swooning a little, even with the hairy armpit. The tattoo that had intrigued me since I met him was revealed in the soft light. It was a lion’s head with some small letters flowing over a banner. Not SAS, as I’d thought. Some leftover of his mercenary days? Across the room, a timber blind rattled quietly in the breeze.

“Hello.” Glass traced his finger across the seam of my lips, tickling and making me shiver. His eyes narrowed and he pushed past my lips to run his finger along my teeth and onto my tongue. I sucked on his finger and the suction seemed to pull excitement into my lower belly.

What other one-night-stand lover would dare to be so forward?

Only, was Glass that or more?

He removed his finger then painted my nose tip with wetness.

“Ugh! No.” I wriggled.

“Why the frown?”

“Before you poked my nose?” I resisted rolling my eyes. Men, they were worse than dogs sometimes... I grimaced. “I was just thinking.”

“Regrets?”

I drew a breath. That he even bothered to ask raised him in my estimation. I’d loved his alpha male act, but if he’d simply wanted to do it and move on, with no concern about my reaction, I’d be gone so fast. Out of this bed. Gone.

“No. Not yet.”

He leaned down to kiss me, holding my throat in a light grip as he did so.

Magic. It reminded me of how he could be, and had been last night. The room focused in. Just a kiss, yet more. A little bit of dominance went a long way.

“You going to tell me if that was a first for you? I was pretty rough.” His eyebrow tilted but he kept his hand there at my throat.

I was crazy fucking hypnotized by this. Already I was aware of my involuntary sexual reaction – I was taking deeper breaths and between my legs warmed. No act, not him. Glass was pure alpha, but I hated admitting that I liked it in words. It seemed a betrayal of myself.