“You do take this whole protective Dom thing seriously, don’t you?”
Frank shrugged and reached for the soap. “Well, it’s a gas water heater. Sometimes the spray gets a little hot.”
She joined him, deliberately brushing the tips of her breasts across his wet chest as she moved. Droplets of water glistened on his skin, rolling in glinting trails along the rippled contours of pectorals and abdomen, streaming from his forearms and hands as he worked lather from the soap. Adding to the lush sensations, warm water pounded her head and shoulders, and wisps of steam rolled over her skin. Alex smiled slowly, enjoying the heady eroticism of the moment. “Feels just right to me.”
“Let’s see if I can’t make it even better.” Soapy hands began to stroke slow patterns over her skin. Alex let her head roll back. The man definitely knew how to touch a woman.
Instead of heading straight for tits and pussy as another man might, Frank built her anticipation with slick, swirling caresses smelling of mint and lavender.
Finally, Alex reached for the shampoo, poured a handful, and rose on her tiptoes to lather his hair. God, he’s tall.
Frank paused the erotic torment long enough to duck under the spray and rinse his hair. Water droplets gleamed among the dark hair on his chest. She was glad he didn’t shave it as so many men did; she liked her lovers a little furry.
Frank was just perfect.
Exploring his body was an erotic delight. With an effort, she resisted the impulse to head for his erogenous zones, though his cock jutted at her hopefully. Evidently he’d already recovered from the blow job.
Instead she traced the ridged shapes of lean muscle—the pectorals and abdominals, the rise and fall of ribs, the thick curve of biceps and triceps in his upper arms. He was built more like a heavyweight Mixed Martial Arts fighter than a bodybuilder, powerful without being too bulky for speed and agility.
“You must use those weights in the other room every damned day,” she murmured. “It’s hard for a guy as big as you are to get this built.” Being a football coach’s daughter, Alex had spent enough time in weight rooms to know all about big men and muscle. The length of those long bones would work against him when it came to building brawn, one reason basketball players tended to look wiry and elongated. It was easier for a short man to get brawny.
Teasing, she asked, “You vain, Murph?”
“Lifting’s great stress relief.” He gave her a lazy smile. “Besides, the girls seem to like the results.”
“It always comes down to pussy. You are so male.”
His smile turned into a carnivore’s grin. “You bet your ass, baby.”
Now he went for her tits. As he sought out her nipples with wicked tenderness, arousal flushed through her, making her pussy go slick and swollen in preparation for that delicious cock.
Frank dropped to his knees in front of her as the spray washed away the soap. His mouth covered her nipple in a breath-stealing rush. Her hands came up to cradle his slick dark head. Teeth nibbled. His tongue swirled, wet and warm even to her shower-heated flesh. He teased and suckled until her knees went weak.
One hand slid between her legs, and a broad forefinger probed as he thumbed her clit. She cursed in helpless delight as her arousal tightened like a coiling spring.
“You’re so wet,” Frank growled against her breast. “Damn, girl, I think you want me almost as much as I want you.”
“Yeah.” Her voice was way too close to a whimper. “God, yeah.”
He stood and banged a fist against the shower door, throwing it open so he could step out. Alex turned off the shower as he snagged one of the towels hanging on a rack. She stepped out. He started drying her off with slow, thorough strokes, the towel thick and soft against her skin.
Finally he tossed it into the hamper, grabbed another, and dried himself off, storm gray eyes hot on her body. She was about to ask to use his brush and hair dryer when Frank swept her into his arms, wet hair and all, and carried her into the bedroom.
Lowering her to the middle of the bed, he growled, “Don’t you move.” It was his Dom voice, and she found herself swallowing the protest that her hair was going to dry into a rat’s nest.
Rising up on her elbows, Alex watched as he strode to the walk-in closet and pulled out a duffel. Had to be his toy bag—the crops, floggers, restraints, clamps, vibrators, and other kinky gear that Dominants collected.
Unzipping it, he searched around inside, finally pulling out a neat coil of rope, several condoms, and a pair of paramedic scissors. The scissors, she knew, were to cut her free in case of emergency—anything from a panic attack to a fire.
Alex grinned. “I gather it’s bondage time.”
He looked up from uncoiling the rope. “You got a problem with that?”
“Hell, no.”
Frank’s mouth quirked. “Do you even know how a sub is supposed to talk to her Dom?”
“Yes, Master,” she said in a tone of saccharine submission before adding, “I just don’t do it.”
He eyed her thoughtfully. “I may have to change your mind about that, smartass.” There was a delicious note of menace in his voice. “What’s your safeword?” He’d asked the question before, but she appreciated his making sure of the answer.
“I always use the same safewords. Gary ignored me once when I used the wrong one.”
“He really was a prick. You’ll remind me which safewords you use no matter how many times I ask.”
“Red. Yellow in the unlikely event I want you to slow down.”
He grinned, a flash of white teeth. “You just keep pushing it, baby.”
The rope was cotton, soft against her skin as he bound her spread-eagle on her back to the bed’s four canopy posts. Her heart began to pound with a hot combination of fear and desire.
Picking up the packages of condoms, he tore one open and started to roll it on.
Alex nibbled her lips as the anxiety intensified.
He stopped, staring at her, the desire cooling in his eyes as he frowned. It wasn’t an angry Dom frown, but honest concern. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“You’re asking now?”
“I mean, are you sure you know me well enough to let me tie you up like this? Ted would kick your ass, and mine, too.”
At his sensitivity, the fear drained, leaving only need behind. She realized that, unlike Gary, he really could be trusted not to hurt her once he had her helpless. The thought sent a wave of intoxicating excitement rolling through her, until it seemed her blood foamed like champagne. “You do realize ‘cop’ is a synonym for ‘adrenaline junkie’?” Alex gave him a cheeky smile. “Not that I’m scared of you.”
At that reassurance, his gaze turned hot again. “Your alligator mouth just got your hummingbird ass in a great deal of trouble.”
“I do hope so. I . . . Hmmph!” The word cut off as Frank swooped down on her, his mouth covering hers in the kind of greedy kiss that stole breath. Bracing on his elbows, he nibbled and licked and ate at her lips. The sensation of that kiss and his powerful body pressing into hers made Alex feel overwhelmed. Taken. Deliciously helpless as he lay between her spread legs, his cock hot on her belly.
Frank began working his way downward, sampling her chin, her throat, pausing to bite gently at her pounding carotid, then continuing lower, nibbling her collarbones, stringing kisses and swirling tongue strokes down to her nipples.
He stopped there, his mouth ravenous on the sensitive jutting flesh, tasting and flicking and sucking hard. Alex pumped her hips, growing desperate. She needed him in her. Had since she’d looked across the MCSO training room and seen him standing there like her own personal sex fantasy. Utterly male and dominant.
“Frank,” Alex gasped, instinctively pulling her bound wrists, twisting in the ropes. “Frank, please, please fuck me . . .”
“No,” he growled in a low, hard Dom voice.
“I need your cock!”
He looked up from her nipple and grinned like a demon
. “Good.” Then he went back to tormenting her, gathering her heat into a fierce little ball between her legs. It maddened her, that heat, made her writhe.
“Frank!” There was more than a little sob in her voice.
“This is what you get for being such a smartass to your Dom. Address me properly.”
“Master!” In her need, she didn’t care about old oaths never to use the word again. Didn’t care about anything but Frank and the helpless lust he made her feel. Unlike Gary, he actually deserved the title. “Please, Master, please, sir, give me your cock . . .”
“Not. Just. Yet.” And he started kissing a trail down her flexing belly toward her pussy.
By the time he spread her lower lips, she thought she was going to catapult right into orbit. But Frank had no intention of letting her come that quickly. He meant to demonstrate who was boss—and it sure as hell wasn’t her.
Licking circles around her clit, he swirled his skilled tongue around the opening of her pussy until she almost shot over the narrow edge into climax.
Reading her body language, he drew back, letting the heat drain.
Alex cursed him, Dom or not. Frank chuckled and went back to eating her again. The bastard.
The incredibly hot, skilled, nasty bastard . . . Oh, God!
* * *
Alex’s long, lovely body arched under Frank’s hands, writhing like a cat begging for strokes, beautiful breasts bouncing as she fought her bonds. Her panting pleas made him even harder as he delicately sampled her wet, swollen pussy.
“Please, Master!”
“No.” He couldn’t wait to fuck her. As hot as she was, the trick would be keeping her from going off like a Roman candle the minute he slid inside. It would be better to keep her climbing a little longer; the wait would intensify her orgasm.
Besides, he loved the hell out of making her call him “Master.” The fact that she fought him on it was an indicator the word really meant something to her. Most bottoms loved the “M” word because it played into the whole kink of being a sub. Some of them would use it to anyone even remotely dominant, whether they had a D/s relationship with that Top or not.
Alex was different, which was why hearing it gave him such a delicious feeling of erotic power. No wonder just tying the girl up gave him a stronger buzz than flogging the hell out of any other sub he’d ever had.
“Please, Master, please Master, please, pleasepleaseplease, Master!” Alex chanted, rolling her hips against his face.
“No.” He clung to his self-control with ripping mental fingernails.
“Please!” She shrieked it as if maddened. “Please, Master!”
Fuck it. His control snapping like a guitar string, Frank reared between her thighs, took his aching, condom-covered cock in hand, and drove to the balls. Her scream made his ears ring.
Teeth bared in furious lust, he braced on his palms and began driving, pounding her hips with his. Each wet, silken thrust blasted fire up the length of his cock. He sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes closed, straining to keep from going over.
Alex’s body bowed, breasts pressing against his chest, almost lifting his considerable weight off the bed with her straining effort to come. “Master! God, Master!”
Fighting to hang on, he kept shafting in and out, despite the pleasure raking golden claws along his spine with every thrust.
“Aiiii! Master!” Delicate inner muscles clamped and rippled along the length of his cock as she writhed in her bonds and began to come. His balls tightened, exploded, coming, coming, coming.
Frank roared.
He kept thrusting even after he’d finished, wringing out every last drop of delight.
At last he collapsed over her, sweat slicking his shoulders and dewing on her heaving breasts. Realizing his weight was probably crushing her, he managed to heave himself onto his back with a groan.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke, too busy panting to manage coherence. Finally Alex spoke. “God, that was incredible, Frank.”
Yeah, he’d called it. She’d climaxed, and he was back to being Frank again.
Well, they’d just see about that.
CHAPTER SIX
When Bruce checked his e-mail late Monday, he found a video file waiting. His heart began to beat in hard, eager thumps even as he reminded himself it could once again be nothing more interesting than Ted getting dressed.
Instead, it was everything he’d hoped when he’d broken in. Ted and his little fruit had been busy that morning.
As Bruce watched uncomfortably, the cop’s white hands caressed his lover’s dark skin as they kissed. He knew what his father would say about that: disgusting bastard. Bruce, though, didn’t consider himself a racist, despite his father’s best efforts to instill a belief in white superiority.
Still, something in him cringed. He shook it off. I’m not a racist.
Unfortunately, a mere interracial kiss wouldn’t be enough. People were inured to that kind of thing today. He needed a more concrete example of Arlington’s lies.
Then Ted gave it to him.
Arlington tied the boy up, got out some kind of whip, and started beating the kid’s ass while the little fruit begged for more. In a stroke of luck, they weren’t naked, at least in the section he intended to use. Ted was shirtless in jeans, while the kid wore some kind of skin-tight black shorts, which would allow Bruce to get around YouTube’s community standards. The video would probably get age-flagged for sexual content even without nudity, but that was fine with him. Kids didn’t need to see this kind of perversion anyway.
Bruce grinned. “I’ve got you now, you sick son of a bitch.”
* * *
Frank invited Alex to stay for dinner. When she volunteered to help with the meal, he put her to work making the salad while he worked on the spaghetti.
“It occurs to me I may be getting ahead of myself,” Frank said while they settled into the homey domestic rituals of chopping vegetables and browning meat.
Alex looked up from the green pepper she was chopping. “How so?”
“I haven’t asked you if you want to be my sub.” He tasted the sauce, then plucked a bottle of oregano out of the spice rack. “Long term, not just for tonight.” He tossed in a pinch of the herb, then looked up. “Because I want to go on topping you.”
She stared at him, caught somewhere between elation and terror. “You want to collar me?” In the kink community, wearing a man’s collar was almost like wearing his ring. It meant what they were doing was more than just hooking up. A collar signified a long-term relationship.
He hesitated. “Not just . . . yet.”
“Oh.” Of course not. It had barely been twenty-four hours. So why did she feel so damned let down?
Frank must have detected her reaction despite her best efforts to keep it off her face. He shook his head. “You’re not the only one with issues from an old lover. I had a sub for a couple of years in San Diego. She did submissive really well—wanted to play the game twenty-four/seven. Called me Lord Frank, for God’s sake. I indulged her. But I was a SEAL, and I was gone a lot.”
Alex winced, seeing where this was going.
“Yeah, it was the whole clichéd bit. Got home to find her fucking a Marine—in our bed.”
“Bitch.”
“I didn’t kill them, didn’t even beat the shit out of the jarhead, though I gave it serious consideration. That was a year and a half ago, and I haven’t had a sub since.”
“If it’s any comfort, you haven’t lost your touch.” Taking a deep breath, she blew it out again. Damn, but it was hard opening up. Letting him tie her up was nothing next to this. “And yes, I would like to be your sub. I don’t know for how long—I want to see how it goes. But you’re the only man I’ve met in a long time I’ve been this interested in. And for the record, I’m not involved with anyone else, vanilla or kinky. No boyfriends, no lovers, no fuckbuddies.” She forced herself to meet his gaze despite her sense of vulnerability. “Nobody but you.”
She stared at him. It felt like being on a roller coaster at the top of a hill, seeing that long, long plunge ahead with a blend of elation and terror. Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his lips so demanding and hot, her heart dropped out from under her as she fell into that weightless, dizzying swoop . . .
What the hell am I doing?
* * *
It was just after 1 a.m. when Alex made yet another circuit of her area, 21. Some nights Charlie Shift was so boring she had to alternate Red Bulls and stop-’n’-rob coffee to stay awake. By the end of the night, she’d be vibrating so hard, it would be noon before she could get to sleep.
But on other nights it was like the Chinese curse: May you live in interesting times. Midnight-to-eight was when assholes liked doing things they didn’t want the neighbors to see. Sometimes the shift rocked like a Death Metal concert all night long, with wall-to-wall calls. And then sometimes the night started out dull, only to get deadly mean without any fucking warning. You never really knew which kind of shift it was going to be, and you could never make assumptions.
That was why bored, sleepy cops did something they knew better than to do and ended up dead.
So far it was looking like a Red-Bull-and-black-coffee night. No wonder she was having a hell of a time keeping her mind off Frank.
After the kiss, they’d ended up making love again, this time on the kitchen table. Just as things got interesting, the skillet of spaghetti sauce on the stove set off the smoke alarm. Frank had to jump up and throw a lid over the frying pan to smother the leaping flames. He’d then turned off the burners and bent her over the table again for Round Three.
They’d gone out for pizza.
Alex knew perfectly well what her mother would say, even aside from the kink: they were going too damned fast. She’d jumped in with both feet with Gary, too, and what a clusterfuck that had turned out to be.
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