by Abby Gordon
“You going to keep Debbie here?” David frowned, pacing in front of the fireplace. “Or use her?”
“You mean am I going to use her as bait to get Hammond?” Quincy asked, standing and tucking his 9 mil into the holster. He noted that, despite Debbie’s obvious aversion to them, both men were concerned about her. That told him quite a bit about them that he liked. “No. If I think things are compromised here, I’ll move her.”
The two men exchanged glances.
“So, you two plan on sharing Claire?”
“What’s it to you?” David wanted to know.
“Not a damned thing unless it gets Debbie so riled up that it makes her difficult. A charge who is upset is more apt to do something stupid.” He leveled a stern eye at the pair. “I have serious problems with stupid.”
“I can understand that,” Paul nodded slowly. “Let’s just say there’s more to our situation than I’ll get into now.”
“How the hell did either of them even know?” David muttered. “Did you say something to Claire?” he glanced at Paul, who shook his head.
“Of course not.” Paul’s eyes went to the open bedroom door. “Tonight’s not the time to get into that. She’s dealing with enough, what with everything at work and now Serena being attacked. This might change things.” He grunted and looked at Quincy. “And you?”
“None of my business except how it affects my job,” Quincy shook his head. “One of you going to take charge of this situation or shall I?” He smiled slightly. “I’m assuming at least one of you takes charge of things.”
Both men glared at him.
“Back off,” warned Paul.
Quincy laughed, although there was little humor in the sound.
“Don’t get your pants in a twist,” he told him. “There are all sorts of rumors about the two of you at the Club,” he lowered his voice and smiled at their startled expressions. “A few years ago I did a job there…got Madison expelled.” They nodded. “The Board asked me to join. I’ve seen both of you with various women.” He glanced at David. “Weren’t you with a redhead most of last year?”
David stiffened, his jaw clenching. “I’ll wait outside.”
Quincy raised a brow as David closed the door behind him.
“Gee, something I said?”
“Christ,” muttered Paul, standing. “Shit, what a night,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Striding across the small living room, he stopped at the open doorway. “Claire, are you coming with me or staying here?”
“Coming,” came a firm, low voice.
“Claire!” Debbie protested.
“Shut up, Debbie,” snapped Claire.
Paul bent slightly to pick up the two suitcases and stepped back. Claire left the bedroom and he followed her to the door. Quincy looked over and saw the pale, stricken expression of his charge. Shit. His night was going to get worse before it got better.
“Claire, please,” whispered Debbie, holding her sneakers in her hands.
Without a word, Claire left the apartment. Paul paused in front of Quincy.
“Don’t say anything to her,” he said under his breath.
“And have a nuclear explosion on my hands? Not a chance.”
He secured the door and turned to see his charge staring through him.
Chapter Three
Debbie stared at the door as it closed behind Claire and Paul. She had to stop Claire from leaving. She had to get to Claire. Quincy bolted and chained the door before turning around.
“What the hell are you doing?” she shrieked.
“Protecting you,” he replied calmly. “It’s my job. Just in case you forgot.”
“I’m not the one who needs protecting,” she argued. “Claire just walked out of here…”
“With someone MacLauren feels is capable of protecting her,” he cut her off. With deliberate steps, he came to stand in front of her. “And she won’t be the one someone comes after anyway. You are. You’re the one who saw Hammond’s face.”
“I don’t care about that,” she snarled, feeling a sudden need to push him, to get some emotion. A rousing, knock-down, drag-out argument would help relieve some of the tension that had been building up in her. “It’s none of your business anyway. You’re just a hired gun and…”
“Are you always this much of a brat?”
“What?” she blinked as his hands gripped her shoulders.
“I said,” he smiled, bringing his face inches from hers. “Are you always this much of a brat?”
“And if I am?” She couldn’t resist taunting him. There was just something about him that told her he was as tightly coiled inside as she was. “What are you going to do about it?”
His hands stroked up and down her arms and she could see fire in his eyes. She wasn’t one for casual sex, but this man was something she’d never experienced before. Quincy was infinitely more mature and confident than the men she met at the clubs. He didn’t seem to worry about what other people thought. And she’d never felt this way around a man. An instant sexual attraction so potent that her nipples got hard when he looked at her and her pussy clenched when he spoke. Now, instinct told her that he most definitely would take control of sex and it would be incredible. Didn’t a woman deserve a hot fling of wild, debauched sex while she was young?
Besides, he was supposed to be her boyfriend. It was okay. Yeah, if she repeated that to herself a few thousand times…
“I know just how to deal with little girls like you. I spank them,” he whispered, his hands pulling her closer. “And I think you are in definite need of a good spanking.”
“No,” she shook her head, unable to believe what she’d just heard. “I don’t like being hit.”
“Big difference between hitting and spanking,” he told her, hands sliding down her back to hold her hips against him.
She could feel his erection through his jeans. Oh, God, he was ready to go for it. Her pussy tightened just at the thought of that length in her.
“It’s amazing foreplay if done properly,” his lips brushed her ear. “A woman can orgasm from it.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Heat flared in his eyes. The flush of her desire filled her face and tugged her womb.
“Bad girl,” he breathed. One of his hands left her hip and came down on her right ass cheek. She gasped. “Rule number one—I’m in charge.”
“You mean I just do whatever you say. I don’t get to ask questions or…”
“Right now, you are to be quiet and accept your punishment.”
Her jaw fell open. Before she could speak, he picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and strode into her bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he set her on her feet. Dizzy from the rapid movements, she couldn’t protest as he easily stripped off her track pants, cotton panties, sports bra, and tee.
“Very nice,” he murmured, dark eyes roaming her lean body.
His strong fingers reached out and pinched her nipples.
“No,” she breathed.
“No?” he echoed softly, one hand covering her pussy. His fingers combed through the damp curls. A knowing smile curved his lips. “You sure?”
“No,” she sighed as a finger circled her entrance. “Please.”
“I intend to,” he told her.
In another sudden move, he pulled her closer and facedown across his lap. One hand spread across her upper back between her shoulder blades. The other stroked her buttocks and the backs of her thighs.
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because it’s what you need. What you want.”
“I don’t want to be spanked or…”
His hand smacked her ass and, as she gasped and twisted to get off his lap, he continued to spank her.
“Really?” he probed. “You want someone to take control of you, but also take care of you. That’s why you’re so upset about Claire. She has what you want.”
Her whole body froze. Was she jealous of Claire after her friend had h
inted about how Paul liked sex? Even of Serena and her new lover? Was that why she’d acted so ungrateful during their shopping trip that morning? While her mind tried to wrap around that thought, her body reacted to Quincy’s punishment. The spanking was warming up her ass. The heat and her vulnerable position added to the fire in her belly. His hand came down again and her thighs parted slightly.
“Much better,” he said approvingly.
His hand struck lower, just above her pussy. A moan escaped her lips. She thought she heard a growl before he began caressing what he’d been spanking a moment earlier. Slowly he stroked her folds and teased her clit. Her breathing became shallow and her body trembled in need.
“How is this possible?” she whispered.
He turned her over and smiled. As his right hand continued its sexual torture of her pussy, his left arm raised her upper body. His head lowered and his teeth nipped her ear lobe. She whimpered as his mouth continued down her throat. By the time his lips closed around a taut rosy nipple, she was on the edge. Her body was damp from its own heat.
“Please,” she begged, covering his hand at her pussy. “Please, Quincy.”
“What do you want, little girl?”
“I need…”
His thumb brushed over her clit and she cried out in desperation.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I…”
Again, his thumb teased the hard nub and the words caught in her throat with a sob. He chuckled.
“Tell me what you need.”
Her hands tangled in his dark hair and tugged at his head until she could see his expression. “Please. Please.” He was silent, waiting. Her mind struggled to find the words. “Please, take control of me. Please, take care of me.”
Slowly he nodded.
“Good girl.”
The hard length of his erection added more heat to her throbbing ass. She groaned at the thought of his large cock driving into her pussy the way his fingers were. The heel of his hand rubbed her clit. His mouth ravished her breasts. As if he was as desperate as she was, his fingers stroked in and out of her—hard, deep, and fast. Gasping for breath, she held onto him as her head fell back. God! No one had ever touched her like this. He knew how to get a reaction from her, to seduce her and bend her to his will. And, as she felt her body race up the mountain to the peak, he knew how to satisfy her.
“Come for me, Debbie,” he whispered, mouth hovering over hers. “Come, baby.”
His tongue swept into her mouth, possessing and claiming. His fingers filled her and suddenly all she saw was a brilliant light as her body jerked in his arms. It wasn’t enough for him though. Mouth to her ear, he kept his fingers in her and kept up the friction on her clit.
“One more time. There’s still too much tension in you. One more…”
On command, her pussy tightened, electricity raced through her and she relaxed with a sigh as a second climax rolled over her softly. Snuggling into his arms, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Chapter Four
Debbie reached over and whacked the snooze button. Snuggling back under the covers, she squeezed her eyes shut. What a nightmare. Burying her head in the pillows, she felt the cotton against her face and winced. Shit! It hadn’t been a nightmare after all. Shifting her head so nothing pressed against her throbbing temple, she tried to convince herself that, despite her body’s aches, it really all had been just a horrible dream.
The alarm went off again and she heard someone moving in the other bedroom before moving toward the kitchen. With a groan, she turned the clock off and swung her legs off the bed. Coffee, coffee, coffee, she thought with each step. She’d be able to function once she had her coffee and talked with Claire. Nearly to the bedroom door, she froze as more reality slammed into her. Claire wasn’t here. It was…Quincy.
Reaching out blindly, Debbie caught at the doorknob to keep herself upright. That had to have been a dream. Had to be. No way would she have acted that way in real life. Resting her forehead against the door, she closed her eyes. She hadn’t been attracted to the brooding muscular man the moment she’d seen him. She hadn’t been secretly thrilled when Ben Hancock had assigned him as her bodyguard. She hadn’t acted like a bitch when they’d reached the apartment and she’d found Claire packing her suitcases to move in with Paul. And she most certainly hadn’t taken her frustration out on Quincy.
She frowned, realizing she had on her favorite nightshirt. He really had stripped her and… With a low moan, she ran her hand under her over-sized tee and covered her own breast. It might have been her imagination, but she could still feel it throbbing.
Holding her breath, Debbie slid her other hand over her pussy and slipped a finger along the dark curls. Pressing her lips together, she moaned. She was wet. Wet from just thinking about what he’d done. How the hell was she supposed to face a man she’d let spank her within an hour of meeting him? How was she supposed to act after letting him fingerfuck her to two shattering orgasms?
“Oh, God, what the hell were you thinking?” she muttered. “Well, that’s a rhetorical question. You weren’t thinking. You saw a good-looking man and practically jumped his bones the minute you were alone with him.” She smiled and snorted. “And now you’re talking to yourself like Serena does.”
Serena. The image of her friend’s half-nude body under the burly man flooded her. Hammond banging her head against the floor before standing to confront her and Claire. How easily he’d tossed her aside. And Claire—don’t-hurt-a-fly-Claire—had jumped on his back, screaming like a banshee. Debbie smiled.
Okay, if Claire had done that, she could certainly face the man in her kitchen.
With that determination, she opened her door and strode down the hall. At the kitchen archway, she froze at the sight of him standing at the counter with his back to her. How the hell had she forgotten how big he was? Nearly a foot taller than her own five-four, he was probably double her weight and all rippling muscle as he poured his coffee. The ridge of his spine led between the flexing heavy mass of his back to black briefs that clung to a tight ass and thighs as thick as tree trunks.
“You keep staring at me like that and you’ll make me blush,” his deep voice teased her.
As she stared at the strip of black cotton that was all he wore, he turned around and her gaze landed on something just as impressive as his back. The purplish head of his cock poked up from the waistband. Ignoring her weeping pussy, she raised her eyes to his face. Tanned skin stretched over a high forehead, narrow nose, and prominent cheekbones. His eyes were nearly as black as his shoulder-length hair. Swallowing his coffee, he smiled at her.
“Morning, little girl,” he greeted her in a husky tone.
Her eyes dropped to his broad chest, and the crease of his six-pack took her right back to his thickening erection. Gasping, she whirled around. She heard the thump of his mug on the counter. Knowing that he was going to come after her, her mind ordered her body to move, to run back to her room. Her body ignored that direction. Her toes twitched, but that was all the movement she managed before his hands caught her shoulders.
****
Quincy wasn’t putting up with any games. From the moment he’d seen her talking to the detectives, he’d been drawn to the woman struggling to hide her vulnerability with a cloak of toughness. He’d developed an instinct for good submissives—male or female. More than a few men had been insulted when he suggested they switch from top to bottom or bottom to top. But those who had listened to him had been grateful, as had the women. Her response last night had been more than he’d expected, but he hadn’t hesitated to take advantage of the situation.
Her feistiness had demanded his strength. She wasn’t a woman to respond to weakness. Her honesty had been refreshing. Most people would have denied his comment about her jealousy of Claire. Her stillness had told him that she was processing his comment, considering how close to the truth it might be. Her surrender had been incredible. He’d come close to staying in bed with her,
holding her close and taking her during the night.
It had been hard as hell, literally, considering his demanding dick, to tuck her under the covers and leave her there alone. He’d thought about masturbating, but he wanted to be in her pussy. He had checked her bathroom and found the birth control pills. Fortunately, he had just bought a box of condoms with plans to go to the Club that weekend.
Now, with her slender shoulders beneath his hands, he wasn’t waiting any longer. Turning her around, he tangled a hand at the back of her head. The soft black strands were like silk. Her eyelids fluttered down and her lips parted slightly. He smiled. Could she be any more perfect in her submission? Beneath the worn cotton of her over-sized tee that trumpeted the mixed martial arts championship at Madison Square Garden, he could see the hard points of her nipples.
“Debbie, look at me.” Slowly she opened her eyes. “Take your shirt off. Now.”
Crossing her arms, she caught the hem of her tee and pulled it over her head. Releasing her as she did, Quincy shoved his briefs down and kicked them off. His erection bobbed in eagerness, pointing the way. Reaching back he plucked one of the foil packets off the counter. Ripping it open, he rolled the condom on. His hands went under her arms and lifted her. Her legs wrapped around his waist as his mouth found hers. Her hands clutched at his shoulders as he devoured her. She wasn’t passive either. Her hands roamed his body. He didn’t mind that, but he was in no mood to play.
“Not waiting,” he growled.
“Huh-uh,” she agreed, mouth nuzzling against his neck.
Backing up into the kitchen, he rested her hips on the counter. She guided him to her and the heat of her around just the head of his dick pushed him past the point of no return. Driving into her, he lifted her off the counter. Side-stepping to the left he turned and pinned her against the fridge. With her trapped, he unleashed the hunger that had kept him awake most of the night. Pounding into her, he felt the heat, the dampness, and the friction of her tight walls. His mouth plundered hers, demanding complete surrender. In the back of his mind, he was aware of her clinging to him, arms and legs wrapping around him, letting him do whatever the hell he wanted. He could hear her pants, her moans, and the sweet pleas for more. Near the edge of control, he reached down and teased her clit. Her cries increased in pitch and her nails raked his back before digging into his shoulders. Her hips jerked forward and her pussy walls clamped tight around his cock. Her entire body tightened as a low, deep moan vibrated in her throat.