by Jan Graham
* * * *
Steve had never been so pleased to be home as he was today. Meg had obviously been at the house because the smell of pine filled his senses as he walked through the door with Rhia. He glanced around the room. Not an ounce of forensic dust remained, and there was even a new rug near the sofa and a new coffee table. When Meg took control, things happened, and they happened quickly. He’d remember that when it was time to plan the wedding. He fingered the ring in his pocket. It had been his mother’s, an antique passed down in his family over the generations.
He’d always wondered why he’d never given it to Kathy. Now he knew. Kathy was a modern girl, worldly-wise, experienced. It wasn’t the ring for her. Her wedding ring had been all sharp angles and contemporary design. He’d promised his mother he’d pass the ring along when he found the right girl. It had played in the back of his mind while he’d been with Kathy, but he couldn’t bring himself to give her the ring. It was perfectly clear why. He’d still been waiting for the right girl, Rhia. The ring was hers, and it felt right. It was everything she was, beautiful, delicate, treasured, innocent, old-world.
Speaking of old world charm, Rhia emerged from the hallway carrying two large glasses of iced tea. The drink was lovely, but one day he’d tell her he preferred coffee.
“So tell me what Trevor said.”
“He thinks he may be able to get the prosecutor to offer Patrick a deal for testifying. He’d still plead guilty to designing the drug and have a criminal record, but he’d be given a suspended sentence. Today at the arraignment no one opposed bail, and the judge didn’t set his bond at an amount his mother couldn’t afford, so he’s out and at home with her. They are going to sell the house, though. His mother wants a clean break away from the area, and she’s concerned there will be community repercussions for Patrick once people find out.”
“I guess that’s fair enough.” Rhia bit nervously at her bottom lip “What about the other one?”
“Harper wasn’t bailed. She’s facing charges of drug manufacture and supply, murder, assault, kidnapping, arson, attempted murder, and numerous other things, including driving an unregistered car.” The tension eased from her face.
“I should imagine the car is the least of her worries.” Rhia surprised him by giggling.
“Yes it is. She wasn’t bailed. She’s in jail until the trial and then she’ll go back there for a very long time. Apparently she created a bit of a scene when the judge announced he was revoking her passport. She said it was an affront to her civil rights and asked him what she was supposed to do if she ever felt like taking an overseas holiday.” He smiled as she laughed once again. “It was then that he requested a full psychological assessment be carried out before she appears again.”
Rhia didn’t reply. Instead she snuggled up next to him on the sofa and let out an exhausted sigh.
The teddy bear smiled at them from the table. Steve hadn’t noticed it yesterday, but the ribbon around its neck wasn’t red. It was bloody pink. Not baby pink, it was darker, but it definitely wasn’t red. He frowned trying to decide if it was worth the angst to ring the florist and make a complaint. Probably not. He didn’t realize Rhia had turned her gaze to him until she spoke.
“What are you frowning about?”
“I think that bear is staring at us.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot to thank you. I love the bear and the flowers.” Rhia reached up and kissed his cheek. “What do they mean? The flowers that is, I hear that flowers have different meanings, you know.”
The cheeky imp. He laughed at the reference to the only other time he’d sent her flowers.
“They mean someone runs a business that preys on vulnerable men, charging them an exorbitant amount of money, when they decide to send a gift to the woman they love.” Rhia slapped him playfully on the arm and looked horrified.
“That’s a horrible explanation, Steve Jax. You could have just said they mean I love you.”
“They mean I love you, and so does this.” Steve reached into his pocket and got down on one knee. “Rhiannon Maria McCabe, will you marry me?”
She looked shocked. Steve half-expected she’d be waiting for him to ask the question, but maybe he’d been wrong. He held up the antique wedding ring and took a deep breath, holding it in as he waited for her reply.
“You know my middle name?”
“Not the answer I was hoping for, baby.” He waved the ring in front of her. “Would you like to try something like yes…of course…definitely?”
He smiled as she nodded and held out her left hand.
Her hand trembled as he slid the ring onto her finger, and her voice wavered a little as she spoke.
“Steve I-don’t-know-your-middle-name Jax, I would be honored to be your wife.” The ring wasn’t a perfect fit, but a minor adjustment would make it so.
He pulled her to him and kissed her. The passionate, hot kisses started at her head and made their way down her body. He stripped her clothes as he went, until he had her naked and poised on the verge of release, his face buried between her legs. He savored her flesh against his lips. Her soft moans of desire filled his ears. She was his in every way possible. Her acceptance of him thrilled his heart, giving him untold pleasure. Ecstacy he knew he’d returned, as she screamed his name while she climaxed.
Epilogue
“Are you okay, still comfortable?” His tone was firm, however his voice held a note of distraction. Rhia knew he was concentrating.
“More than comfortable, Sir.” The dreamy quality of her voice surprised her. She was relaxed despite the position her body was in. She let out a gentle groan as the little stings of pain recommenced.
She’d laughed when the men had shown up with the OB-GYN exam chair. Steve had convinced Daniel to purchase it for him, insisting it was more appropriate for use in a dungeon than it was in a doctor’s practice. When she thought back over their first appointment at the birthing clinic, he had seemed overly interested in the chair the gynecologist had in the surgery.
Rhia lay back with her legs spread wide, resting in the leg supports. Straps secured her legs in the padded brackets at upper thigh, calf and ankle, preventing any movement. The rest of her body reclined against the chair. The back of it lowered at an angle, so she looked up toward the ceiling rather than at what he was doing. Her hands were cuffed, raised over her head, secured behind the headrest. She’d been in this position a few times before, as well as others. So far there wasn’t one position she didn’t like. He used each one to drive her wild with tortuous activities of pleasure and mild pain.
“Tell me why my hands need to be restrained again please, Sir.”
“You know why.” He smiled and inspected his handy work.
“Please, Sir, I’ve forgotten. Can’t you remind me?” She pouted and stared up at him, trying to look as innocent as she could.
“Because you are a naughty imp who can’t keep her hands to herself if they aren’t tied up.” He stood between her legs, his naked body towering over her. “It’s also so I can easily get complete access to you to do this…”
She arched her breasts toward him as he bent forward and sucked her left nipple firmly into his mouth. The bite of pain elicited a deep moan as he clenched it between his teeth and then released it to lave the sting away with his tongue.
“And this…”
He concentrated on the other nipple… sucking… biting… stinging…soothing.
“Then of course there’s always…” His fingers slipped inside her and began to thrust deeply, firmly, forcefully. She cried out in delight as the pleasure began to build quickly. Her pussy clenched onto his fingers in an attempt to hold them. She wanted release. He pulled his fingers free and mimicked the pout she often displayed as she whimpered in frustration.
“Now, stop distracting me.”
She loved distracting him. It not only stopped the little stabs of pain he was inflicting, but it also increased her arousal. She’d grown to love being bound like
this, her body open to him, spread bare before him, ready for him to use her if he decided to give her pleasure. And he always did. No matter what treatment he saw fit to administer, it always ended in the most sexually gratifying experience. She moaned softly and wiggled against the chair. She never imagined this would be such an erotic act. Moisture trickled from her pussy, down the crack of her bottom and pooled near her back entrance, making the chair slippery against her cheeks.
“Do you need a break from the chair?” He paused and looked up at her.
“No, Sir.”
“Then why are you rocking the chair by wiggling around?” He frowned when she shrugged and went back to staring at the ceiling. “Do it again, and I’ll spank you.”
Rhia wanted to roll her eyes at the threat. He couldn’t spank her. There was no way he’d stop what he was doing to undo the cuffs and straps, turn her over, spank her bottom and then put her back in place. She let out a deep sigh and stretched within the confines of the restraints. She squealed as his hand landed heavily against her pussy.
Her muscles clenched, and she squirmed once more. Again, his hand slapped against the flesh between her legs. She moaned and attempted to arch her back. His hand landed again, her pussy contracted, and her clit throbbed.
“Keep moving, and I’ll keep spanking your cunt.” His voice was low, gravelly.
His hand landed again. Oh, yes please!
If he kept this up, she might come. Another firm, hard strike landed against her skin. Good grief, that was amazing. She groaned loudly. The flesh was heated between her legs, her clit pulsed wildly, and her pussy ached. He laughed and she opened her eyes. He looked amused. She tried to slow her breath, but her heart was racing, her nipples tightly budded. Her pussy grew wetter than it had been before when he’d been touching her sensually. She had no idea why that turned her on so much. He could punish her like that any day.
“I’m sure I need more punishment. I don’t think I can stop wiggling.”
He continued to laugh at her. “Well then, I’ll have to think of something else to punish you with because that nearly made you come.”
He could read her body so well. She loved that about him. As he returned to the task at hand, he began lecturing her about the escalation in her bratty behavior. She listened with increasing amusement as he pondered out loud the reasons for the change in her. Was she just growing into her true nature, becoming more relaxed to express that side of her, or had she been spending too much time with Angel and learning bad habits? Rhia suggested it may be a combination of all of the above.
“Okay, we are up to the bit you don’t enjoy. Do you want me to undo your wrists and hold your hand like I did last time, while I do this?”
“No, leave me bound, I’ll be brave…but I may curse.” He nodded and quickly wiped the surgical alcohol wipe across her thigh.
“Argh…Argh…bum, bum, bum, shit.”
“Is that it? That’s cursing?”
He undid the straps around her legs and eased them down one by one, assisting her out of the supports. Then he moved to the head of the chair. He kissed away the few tears that trickled from her eyes as he unclipped the cuffs from the headrest and lowered her arms. As he raised the chair she caught her first glimpse at the completed tattoo.
It was stunning. The black lace pattern ran completely around her thigh. The red roses dotted along the pattern at alternating top and bottom intervals. The ribbon that appeared to weave in and out the centre of the lace was also red, with the words Steve’s Girl tattooed in fancy black writing on it in the centre front of her thigh.
“Your sister and Barry will have a fit when you walk down the aisle at our wedding in your short little wedding dress, with that on display for all to see.”
He looked happy about the reaction he’d described rather than concerned. She giggled at the thought. Meg wasn’t impressed with the dress she’d picked or the bridesmaid gowns she’d insisted on. This would be the icing on the cake, her declaration to the world that she was Steve’s woman. Body, soul, and spirit, she belonged to him. As he picked her up off the chair and carried her to bed, she closed her eyes and pictured the beautiful design. She couldn’t believe how perfect it had turned out.
“I love the tattoo. It’s covered the scar perfectly. It’s like the burns Harper inflicted never even existed.”
“That, my love, is exactly how it should be. Erasing the past and turning any marks left behind into something brand-new.”
THE END
HTTP://WWW.JANGRAHAM.COM.AU
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I live on the fringe of both Sydney and the Southern Highlands in NSW, Australia. I have enjoyed writing throughout different periods of my life, but it is only now that I have the ability to work on it in a full-time capacity. I love the imagery the written word creates in one’s mind and therefore I am an avid reader as well as an author.
At the end of 2010, after many years of working in the “real” world, I finally decided to make writing my career. I am pleased that I’m finally able to give the characters that swirl around my head on a constant basis the opportunity to put themselves down on paper, and hopefully entertain others as much as they amuse me.
More information about what I’m up to can be found at http://www.jangraham.com.au
Also by Jan Graham
Ménage and More: Wylde Shore 1: Finding Angel
Available at
BOOKSTRAND.COM
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com