by Tess Oliver
Clutch reached me. I jumped onto my toes and kissed him. "So spaghetti, huh?"
"Yep, I was thinking spaghetti and then some high heels and maybe another one of those corsets. By the way, expect a call from Finley. I think your fortune might just be made on those things."
I took hold of his hand. "I thought they might be popular. Especially after my first marketing test." We walked through the gate, across the pool area and to the stairs that led up to my apartment.
Clutch vibrated the steps with his massive feet as we climbed to the top. "I was thinking you should move in with me," he blurted.
I stopped midway and looked at him. "That was unexpected. What brought this on?"
He shrugged. "I just think you're safer with me and not in this sketchy apartment building." As he finished his sentence, my two sweet elderly neighbors walked out of their place. Heidi and Gretchen were seventy-five-year-old identical twins who grew up in Germany and moved to California years ago for the warm climate. They'd both been suffering from rheumatoid arthritis since their twenties.
I always got a kick out of their wide-eyed reaction when they came face to face with Clutch.
"Oh my, it's the big boyfriend. He's sure is a giant. And those pink roses are beautiful," Heidi said enthusiastically as she shuffled past us on the steps.
"Evening ladies." Clutch nodded politely and moved out of their way.
"You're right," I said as we continued up the stairs. "This place is sketchy and filled with dangerous characters. I might be overwhelmed by lilac perfume on the stairs one of these days. Although I have no idea why she was talking about pink roses."
We reached the landing, and the pink rose mystery was solved. A dozen long stem roses sat on my doorstep.
"My favorite color too." I turned to Clutch and kissed him but he wasn't returning the affection.
I pulled my mouth away and looked up at him. "The roses aren't from you?"
"Not unless I'm losing my mind and I ordered them without knowing it."
"The florist must have left them at the wrong door." I bent down to pick them up. A flash of white caught my eye. "Here's the card. I'll see where these belong." I reached between the vase and stems and pulled out a plain white card. It was blank on one side and the other side said 'Beautiful roses for a beautiful girl. Happy Birthday, Taylor'.
Clutch's shadow loomed over me as he glanced over my shoulder at the card. I could sense him stiffen as he read the message. "Who the fuck sent those?" There was enough accusation in his tone to make me bristle.
"I have no idea," I snapped back. I jammed my key in the door. He lumbered in behind me, shaking the floor of my apartment as he followed me inside.
I decided to lighten the mood. The stupid flowers had just put a crimp in our evening, and there was no reason for it. "Remember what I told you—in the upstairs apartment use ballerina steps and not Viking stomps."
I placed the roses on the small kitchen table and looked back at Clutch. His brows were pinched together. He was still brooding over the damn roses. Admittedly, in the first years of our relationship, I'd given him plenty of reasons to distrust me. But I was young and I was out of my mind nuts about him. I constantly worried that I wouldn't be able to keep his attention because I was too immature. Then I proved myself right by resorting to the silliest, most immature move of all. Making Clutch jealous. It had worked to a point. Then it got old for both of us. As I grew up and inched more into the adult world, I realized my games were only hurting our relationship, not to mention causing permanent damage. Some of the residual mess I'd left behind with my ridiculous stunts was showing right now on his face and in the stiff set of his shoulders. But his reaction was unfair. I'd done nothing wrong.
"Maybe my dad sent the flowers."
Clutch held back a laugh at my suggestion. "Your dad? The same man who thinks a chuck on the shoulder is a sign of affection? Anyhow, I thought your parents bought you a new sewing machine for the shop."
"They did." I looked over at the roses and wondered how something so lovely and fragrant could have turned the mood so sour. "I can't stand the thought of eating spaghetti across from that grumpy face of yours."
I walked to my cluttered junk drawer and pulled out a blank note card and pen. I quickly scribbled a message to my sweet, elderly neighbors and shoved the card into the roses. "On the way out, I'll leave the roses in front of Heidi and Gretchen's door. At least they'll get some enjoyment from them."
Clutch walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. "Right, that'll make me stop thinking about who sent them to you."
I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms to give him my best scolding look. "It might just have been a client saying thank you. There are a bunch of possibilities. But if you're going to let that oversized head of yours start dreaming up all kinds of scenarios about me and other men, then have at it." I pushed off the counter. "I guess I'll have to save my newest lingerie design for another time."
I marched past him and picked up to a squealing run as his heavy footsteps plodded behind me down the short hall to the bedroom.
His massive hand shot past me and smacked open the bedroom door. I laughed as I stumbled into the room. Clutch's arm circled around me, and he pulled my back against his chest. "Fuck the roses. Show me the damn lingerie. Let me help you." He spun me around in his arms and unbuttoned my shirt as he kissed me. The tiny pearl buttons proved too difficult for his big fingers. He ripped one free. He lifted his mouth from mine and stared at the button that looked almost microscopic on his palm. "See what you do to me, woman?" He moved to toss the button, but I grabbed his wrist.
"No. I don't have any more of those." I took the button from his hand and placed it on the dresser. I shot him a slightly wicked smile over my shoulder as I reached into the top drawer for my newest creation, a silky, transparent baby doll nightie with two panels that parted all the way up to the neckline. I lifted it from the drawer and hid it behind me as I turned to face him.
"Now, take a few deep breaths, sir. I don't need you stomping across the floor and causing my downstairs neighbor's ceiling to crumble.” I lifted the nightie up along with the matching panties.
Clutch's broad shoulders lifted and fell, straining the fabric on his shirt with each breath. "Yeah, that'll do." His voice was slightly hoarse as if he was having a hard time getting the words out. "Never realized your business ventures were going to come with so many perks . . . for me."
"Wait. This little ensemble is being paired with one more thing just to make for some extra honeymoon fun." I reached into the drawer and lifted my hand. "Fuzzy handcuffs. You know, just in case the new husband and bride get bored."
Clutch was unusually speechless. His blue eyes darted from the nightie to the cuffs and back again, like a kid trying to decide which ice cream flavor to choose.
I twirled the pink cuffs around on my finger. "I guess we can try this new little number and the cuffs when we get back from dinner."
"Forget dinner."
A laugh shot from my mouth. "First you're knocked speechless and then the words 'forget dinner' come from the man who literally eats enough to keep a small village alive. I guess that's another star for the new product line."
Clutch blinked at me for a few seconds. "Taylor, are you going to put that on? Or am I going to stand here and hold my fucking breath until I pass out?"
"I'll be right back." As I slinked past, he reached out and took hold of the cuffs. "I'll hang on to these."
I batted my eyelashes up at him. "But what if I was planning to use them on you?" I finished my coy act with a laugh and disappeared into the bathroom. I left the door slightly ajar so I could talk to him while I changed. "By the way, Bridal World said they'd keep my traveling down to less than four trips a year." I peeked around the edge of the door as I shoved off my shoes and pants.
Clutch was sitting on the end of the bed, staring at the handcuffs as if plotting something. "I thought you'd be glad to hear that," I continued.
"I know you were worried I wouldn't be around much."
He looked up from the cuffs. "Yep, that's good news."
I straightened and faced the mirror as I removed my top and bra and pulled on the nightie. It was as light as a feather and the silky material felt like gossamer as it ran through my fingers. It was imported and a little more expensive but worth the luxury. And with lingerie only requiring a small amount of fabric, I could keep the prices affordable. I bunched up my hair to give it a sultry puff and pinched my cheeks for color.
I briefly thought about the roses and Clutch's reaction. I had been working hard to earn back his trust, but he was going to have to give on his end too. I had no idea who'd sent the roses. I was sure it would turn out to be a client or some unexpected gesture from a friend. As much as I hated the idea of not sending a proper thank you to someone, I wasn't going to spend much time trying to uncover the mystery. My main concern was Clutch's reaction to the flowers and how much damage I'd done in the first years of our relationship.
I stared at my reflection. The fabric was as close to sheer as it could be without being made completely of air. The neckline plunged to just below my breasts where the two panels came neatly together with a bow, a bow that was easily untied. One thing was certain, my newest creation was sure to erase any bitter taste of the darn pink roses.
For special effect, I put an extra flounce in my step as I pranced into the bedroom in my sheer, buttery soft lingerie. Clutch was no longer sitting on the bed. His clothes were piled on the carpet.
The floor creaked behind me, but before I could swing around, the solid wall of man was standing directly behind me. Naked. His erection brushed across my lower back. "Darlin', you are under arrest for being just too fucking hot." His warm breath caressed the side of my cheek as he leaned to the side and took hold of my hand. The fuzzy pink handcuff clicked shut around my wrist.
Clutch lifted my cuffed hand and twirled me around under his arm like a turn on a ballroom floor. He stared hungrily at the barely there nightie as he spun me around one more time. "I like it. I mean I really fucking like it." He stopped and lifted the sheer fabric, snaring it on his callused fingers. "Looks like it might rip easily. Just putting that out there ahead of time in case there's some damage."
"No damage. Just don't be a clod." I leaned forward and kissed his chest. "But make sure I come."
His mouth tilted up in a lopsided grin. "Oh, I'll make fucking sure of that." He led me to my bed with its cool antique iron headboard and full sized mattress, which was way too small for Clutch. Of course, that never stopped us from having wall banging sex in my apartment. Not even when we actually made it to the bed. We weren't always in tune with each other on day to day things, but in the carnal sense, Clutch and I were a perfect match. He never disappointed. And while Clutch wasn't the type of guy to put words to his feelings much, the way he looked at me sometimes, as if he might just come apart at the seams with wanting me, was all I needed. That thought sent me into his arms before he had a chance to direct me onto the bed.
I was tall but I had to get up on my toes to put my arms around his neck. I loved that about him. I loved that there was almost too much of him to imagine, that he filled a room with his shoulders, that he occasionally had to duck to pass under a doorway. His overwhelming size, everywhere, thrilled me to no end.
"Before we commence with whatever you have planned in that dirty, barbaric Viking mind of yours—" I lifted my mouth to his for a kiss. "I just wanted to say—I love you. All of the time. Night and day. Since I can remember. In fact, I can't remember a time when I didn't love you. Even when I was sixteen and you used to tell me to bug off and take my freckles elsewhere, I still loved you. Maybe a little less than now, but I have never wavered in my feelings for you."
Clutch pressed his hand against my face as he kissed me. "I've always loved you too, baby. Even when you were just a freckly faced teenaged gingersnap, you stirred every emotion in me. Which, before you comment and ruin the moment, was exactly why I worked so hard to avoid you. You made me crazy but in a good way." He hesitated, and it seemed there was something more he had to say.
I gazed up at him, as usual, nearly dizzy with the idea of him being mine. Sometimes it was unreal, as if I'd fantasized so much about being with Clutch that some magic spell had brought him to me.
"Taylor," he said with a deep tone that he only saved for serious discussions, like the one we were having. I sensed there was something on his mind, something significant and for a second I felt a bit terrified.
I couldn't bear an ‘I love you, Taylor, but—’ I worried that my tiny, sheer night shift hadn't done its job after all and that he was still fretting about the roses. God, I'd been such an idiot in the past, toying with our relationship like I had. I could kick myself just thinking about it.
I was flustered enough to come up with a plan to stop the words before they fell from his mouth. The fuzzy pink fur on the handcuffs tickled my arm and I lifted it. "Hey, are you going to make me your captive or what? As lovely as my frilly lingerie looks, I'm freezing my butt off."
It took a second for him to break away from his thoughts.
His smile, the one that usually greeted me over the pillow in the morning, flashed across his face. "No freezing that cute butt off." He spun me around and grabbed both ass cheeks. "I'd miss it too much." He waved me onto the bed.
I plopped down and scooted back against the pillows. Clutch tapped his chin, a gesture that looked completely comical considering he was stark naked and fully erect. "I'm thinking hands and knees go nicely with that naughty nightie. Oh shit. I just came up with your slogan for the lingerie. Hands and knees go nicely with a naughty nightie."
"Kind of wordy, but you might be onto something." We'd put my poor bed through the wringer enough times that it wobbled and creaked under just my weight as I flipped over onto my hands and knees. When Clutch climbed on behind me, the mattress shifted wildly from side to side. I grabbed hold of the wrought iron headboard to keep from falling over. The spare handcuff clinkered against the metal.
"You read my mind, baby." He grabbed the empty cuff and wrapped it behind the leafy scroll on the headboard, then he clicked it around my other hand. He straightened and nodded approvingly at my very submissive position. "Need a fucking picture of this."
"No, don't you dare."
"Please. Then whenever I'm bored at work, I can just bring up the picture and—"
"Please don't finish because we both know exactly what would happen next, and it wouldn't have anything to do with restoring cars."
"You've got a point." He tapped the side of his head. "Just making a mental picture."
"I'm cold."
"Right. Time to warm you up." He moved behind me and slid the panties down. He pressed his mouth against my ass and, as he promised, I instantly warmed up. My entire body reacted instantly to his touch. It never took more than a brush of his fingers or a kiss to produce a blush and make my knees weak. As his hand circled around and pressed between my legs, a long, pleased sigh left my lips.
The bed squeaked and chortled as Clutch lowered himself behind me. My legs collapsed in anticipation of his mouth on my pussy.
"Fuck, you are sweet, baby." His mouth covered my pussy as his tongue swept between the moist folds. He paid extra attention to my clit as he flicked his tongue hungrily against me.
I pushed my ass back wanting to feel the pressure of his mouth on my pussy. All the while, my hands were cuffed to the bed, making me feel deliciously vulnerable as he fucked me with his mouth and tongue.
"Clutch," I said on a breath, "you know just what I love."
"Damn right," he growled against my naked skin. His thick fingers dipped inside of my wet pussy taking turns with his tongue. My entire body was curling in on itself, ready to break into a shattering orgasm. But I wasn't ready for it to end.
"Clutch, fuck me. I want you inside of me when I come."
He continued to bring me mercilessly close to the end.
I worked hard to not fall off the cliff.
"Please."
He ignored my pleas and continued to create a white hot frenzy between my legs. He moved a finger to my ass. I bit my lip hard as he impaled my ass with his finger. He knew everything, every trick to make me crumble into a shuddering pile of ecstasy.
"Damn it," I grunted. "I want you inside of me. I don't want this to end without your cock. Please," I pleaded again.
He pulled his mouth from my skin. I trembled with anticipation of him fucking me. "You seem to forget who's in charge here, baby. I'm not finished tasting you. Besides, your pleas are making me that much harder." His tongue slid back inside of me. I held my breath.
"This is sweet fucking torture," I cried. "I love you, you jerk. Damn you, I want you inside of me. Please." My last word came out as a whimper.
The bed beneath me shifted again as his mouth pulled away and he knelt behind me. His big hands took firm hold of my hips, and he lifted me up to my knees again. His massive cock plunged into me. I pressed my face against my shoulder to stifle the cry.
The orgasm was instant. My pussy writhed and tightened around him as he rocked hard against me, his fingers gripping me tighter with each pass. I clung to the iron headboard and braced myself against his movements. Each thrust filled me with new sensations, keeping the orgasm lingering like a long, perfect song.
Clutch's movements quickened. In my small apartment and on my less than steady bed, he had to hold back some of his strength or risk pushing the headboard through the thin bedroom wall. I sometimes felt badly for the man. He was far too big and powerful for the mortal world.
His hold on me tightened and his fingers dug into my flesh as he came. He groaned and stayed buried inside of me, moving against me with a slow, pulsating rhythm until his ragged breathing slowed.
"My fingers are tingling," I noted.
The bed squeaked as he shifted his weight forward and reached for the latch on the handcuffs. "These are handy. I give them two thumbs up." He flicked one open and sat back behind me as I pulled the cuffs free and took them off.