by Leah Braemel
“Ryan, please.” Her shoulders arched off the top part of the chair, her legs swung out, setting the swing into a crazy spin.
She’d said she was up for anything. He glanced down at the condom, and the slick juices coating it. He’d brought lube with him, because he’d figured he’d need it himself, but what if...He caught her chair and trapped it, then fiddled with the chains, tilting her back. Once he was satisfied with the angle, he picked up the second part—his seat—and secured it in place below.
“What are you doing? I was so fucking close to coming, damn it.”
“Give me a minute. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
It took some maneuvering, but soon he was the seated beneath her, so she was straddling his lap. He reached up and fiddled with the chain, until she lay flat against his thighs. He coated the statue with lube then positioned it against her puckered rosette.
“Babe? Both at the same time?”
“Yes.” Her response was more a puff of breath than a word, but the nodding of her head and lifting of her ass confirmed her answer.
She lifted her head to watch him as he slowly eased his replica through her taut entrance. The moonlight splashed over the top of her bound breasts in a silver waterfall until she resembled the marble in her ass. But no marble ever had such a heady scent as Meg fully aroused. Ever tasted as good her breasts, or the honey between her thighs. No marble felt as soft as her breasts, so smooth as her ass, so welcoming as her pussy.
Once she was completely filled, he adjusted the chains again and lifted her until her pussy lined up with the head of his cock. Fingering her slick folds, he lowered her until she completely enveloped his cock in her tight cleft. As her part of the swing rocked opposite to his, the soft skin of her thigh brushed the top of his.
Using a trailing end of the rope binding her, he set them rocking, the movement driving him deep inside her.
* * *
Though a prisoner of both rope and Ryan, Meg had never felt so free. Or so filled. Ryan’s cock and his carved double thrust and retreated with each swing, driving her insane. She couldn’t touch him, she couldn’t control the motion or the speed of the swing. Her pleasure was completely reliant on him. And she loved it.
His thigh muscles rippled beneath hers as he leaned back and pumped, thrusting so deep inside her she burned. At the top of the arc, they’d hang midair, almost motionless then they’d free-fall down as Ryan straightened, rocking her clit over his pubic bone. Thrust, withdraw, thrust, withdraw.
Soon the long slow sweeps weren’t enough for either of them. Ryan placed his feet down on the ground and stopped them, the motion driving him deeper than he’d ever been before. Her climax ripped through her with no warning, her body shaking around him. With a groan, Ryan clutched her to him, his cock responding to her spasms. With a shout, his fingers dug into her, his hips jerked as he found his release.
They hung there, wound around each other, both struggling to catch their breath. Ryan recovered first. His arms supporting her back, he brushed her forehead with his lips, whispering, “Lean back, baby.”
He tugged on the bottom knot; as it parted the other knots collapsed and unwound into her lap. He traced a finger over the imprint of the sisal on her wrist. “I love this.”
So did she.
Once he’d removed his carving, he freed her from the rest of her bindings and carried her to the leather chair by the window. “I’ll be right back.”
Too exhausted to move, too overwhelmed by what she’d experienced, Meg curled her legs beneath her and pillowed her head with her hands.
Ryan returned with a bowl of warm water and a washcloth. Her muscles were limp as he gently wiped everywhere he’d bound her. Her thighs fell apart at the merest touch when the washcloth dipped between them. Once he had cleaned her, he took great care in dressing her, then carried her back to his loft.
Her head resting on his shoulder, Meg roused when he stepped outside. The moon had been obscured by a gray blanket of clouds, and snow swirled around them, fat white flakes that stuck to her hair and his.
“Why have you never shown me this room before? Is it like your secret fortress?”
“I don’t know. Derek and I used to play up there a lot when we were kids, especially in the winter or when it rained. It would be our castle to defend, or a fortress or spaceship sometimes. Dad put our first swing up the winter after Mom died. But we’d stopped using it by the time I’d met you. I’d pretty much forgotten about it. I think Derek had too.” He shifted her in his arms, ignoring her reminder she was perfectly capable of walking. “After he died, when I was stuck here with Noah and Sophie, and Derek was still at school, I found myself up in the room one night. It’s like I was away from everything, above everything. Nothing mattered, not money, not the issues Noah was having at school, or Sophie’s bad moods. It was just me and the trees and the water and the stars.”
He opened the door, and finally let her feet slide to the floor. It wasn’t until they were undressed again, lying in each other’s arms under the warm blankets of his bed that he spoke again. “When the moon is out, I love watching the shadows stretch and shorten as the moon travels across the sky. I love the way the snow sparkles even in the dark. Or in the summer, watching the reflection of the moon and the stars in the pond.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t finish this off as your apartment.”
“I asked our architect but he said there were too many issues with plumbing and reinforcing the floor and a billion other things that meant it would have cost too much and taken longer than I wanted. So we fixed up the rooms over the store. It’s nice, but it doesn’t have the same view as here. The only thing that would make both places perfect would be having northern lights like you get up north. And you.” He kissed the top of her head. “But now you’re here.”
And she always would be. The thought that he wouldn’t be ripped away from his sanctuary comforted her. Though she couldn’t bring him the— “Northern lights! That’s what the sculpture over the mantel is, isn’t it?”
His chest rumbled beneath her head. “What did I tell you about art?”
Chapter Six
Megan woke to a strange grating and thumping outside. It took her a few minutes to recognize it as a snowplow’s blade against the parking lot concrete. An annoying beep beep beep as the truck reversed confirmed her conclusion.
A check of the clock had her gasping and fumbling for her robe.
“Arrgh, that has to be the worst sound to wake up to.” Ryan shoved his head under the pillow.
“That and the screeching of someone scraping the ice off their windshield.” Meg snagged Ryan’s shirt from the floor. Once she felt her important bits were covered, she twitched the curtain aside to peer out the window. “At least it didn’t snow too much last night. There’s only about a foot on the deck. The pond is like this big white frosted cake—it’s so pretty.” She pulled the curtain farther aside. “Wow, there’s a huge buck at the far side. Must be at least a twelve pointer.”
“Hey, Nanook of the North, around these parts a foot is a lot of snow, especially the past couple of winters. And yeah, that buck’s been hanging around for a few years now. He’s almost tame because of the tourists.” Ryan pounded the pillow on either side, trapping his head between it and the mattress. It only slightly muffled another groan. “Couldn’t they have at least waited until later? Who the hell needs to be out at this hour? I need more sleeeep.”
“Uh, Ryan? It’s almost noon. The Christmas party starts in an hour.”
“Aw crap, the kids’ party. I forgot that was today. All right, all right, I’m up,” he grumbled, though he rolled to sit up.
By the time Meg and Ryan made it to the mill, the floor vibrated with the bass from the local band Amy had hired, and every spot in the parking lot had been taken, the cars spilling onto the side of the road.
“At least we’re not too late to watch Santa arrive.” An unholy glimmer appeared in Ryan’s eyes, despite the dark circles beneath th
em. “I am so going to rib Derek about this.”
“Leave him alone. If you don’t, I’ll volunteer you to be Santa next year.”
“Then I’ll buy us two tickets to the Virgin Islands. And Santa’s gonna wear board shorts and shave his beard.” He grinned until he pulled the door open and the noise of not only the music but of several dozen children’s shrieks shot to where-the-hell-are-my-ear-plugs level. “Holy crap, there have to be three dozen screaming rug rats in there.”
Amused at the look of horror on his face, Meg caught his arm before he could slam the door shut. “Uh-uh, you promised Amy you were going to help out today.”
She steered him past the coat rack, past the face-painting table and the He-shoots-He-scores loonie toss game. “I thought you liked kids.”
“I do. When they don’t need their diapers changed.” He cringed at one particularly ear-splitting shriek of joy from a little girl at the fishbowl game. “Why couldn’t they come with a volume control?”
“Tell me about it.” Ryan’s student Don faced them, Kevin beside him. “That’s my sister Katie. I swear I never want to have kids when I’m grown up. Not girls anyway. And Kev’s not too happy with Katie at the moment either—she dressed up our dog in my mother’s bra and freaked him out.”
Kevin promptly hid behind his brother, who rolled his eyes. “Hey twit, you know Mr. Porter. You don’t need to hide from him.”
“And you met Meg the other day, remember, Kevin?” Ryan hunkered down on his heels. So much for his claims not to like kids. “Did you know that Ms. Sullivan here is a Mountie?”
A pair of inquisitive blue eyes peered around Don’s leg. “What’s a Mountie?”
“You know what Mounties are, little dude,” his brother said. “We saw them when we visited Auntie Gloria and Uncle John in Ottawa, remember? The policemen who wore those bright red uniforms and rode their horses to music.”
Kevin peeked out again, still suspicious. “She’s not wearing a uniform. And she doesn’t have a horse.”
“I only wear my uniform when I’m on duty—and the red serge is only for special occasions.” And she’d never get on a horse, not even if someone pulled a gun on her.
“Are you going to arrest someone?”
“Nope.” Ryan held a finger to his lips. “Sssh, it’s a secret but she’s here as a special bodyguard to Santa. You see, Meg lives up by the North Pole and Santa’s her special friend.”
Kevin’s eyes goggled and his jaw dropped. “Have you ever been to Santa’s house? Does he really have elves? Are they little short people like in the cartoon or are they big like in that movie that Mommy loves watching where they shoot arrows at monsters and stuff?”
“My mom’s a big Lord of the Rings fan.” Don rolled his eyes.
Meg knelt beside Ryan. “I’ve never been to Santa’s house so I’ve never met his elves. For security reasons, the location is kept very secret. Even from me.”
That seemed to placate him, but it didn’t stop his curiosity. “Do you have polar bears up there? Is there snow and ice all the time? Even in July? Because it’s my birthday in July and we usually go swimming on my birthday. I wouldn’t like it if it snowed on my birthday. It snows on Mommy’s birthday—her birthday was last week. It didn’t snow on her birthday this year but we still couldn’t go swimming. Would your gun stop a polar bear if it attacked you? Have you ever been attacked by a polar bear?”
Meg’s head reeled trying to keep up with his switch of subjects. Thankfully his brother led the chatterbox off by the hand in search of their mother.
Laughter twinkled in Ryan’s eyes. “You’d tell me if Legolas lived up there, right?”
“You’ll never let me live down that comment about Orlando Bloom being cute, will you?” With a laugh of her own, she shoved him toward the food table. “Just for that, you can go get me a cup of hot chocolate. I’m thirsty.”
“Your wish is my command, my lady.” Ryan swept his arm in front of him and bowed, then wound his way through the crowd.
“That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?”
Megan turned to face the speaker. June stood with her arms folded across her chest, a scowl marring her face. “I beg your pardon?”
“You just like all the attention people have to pay you because you carry a badge. You like the flashy uniform. The power you get from carrying a gun.”
What was her problem? “I’m a police officer because I like helping people. Making sure they’re safe. The way you make sure Don and Kevin and Katie are safe.”
“So you’re helping Ryan’s family by taking him away from them? Away from his students? Away from his career?”
When June took a step closer, invading her personal space, Meg braced herself and reached for her hip to find...nothing. Right, she wasn’t in uniform, wasn’t on duty or in her own territory. Stand down. She’s just looking out for a friend.
“You’re going to destroy that man and you won’t even realize it,” June continued. “He needs to be here in Porter’s Mill. In Southern Ontario at the least, and not just for his students. Ryan has talent that most of us can only dream of having, yet you keep him dangling on a string or expect him to chase you around like a puppy chases after its tail.”
“I don’t expect him to chase after me.” Far from it. “I appreciate that you’re looking—”
“What about how you’re making him give up his career for the sake of yours?” June barreled on. “He has galleries and buyers contacting him from all over the world about his work. He had a show in New York City last summer, for Pete’s sake. His work is on display in London and Bonn and they’re getting ready to send some of his pieces down to Sydney!”
She knew about New York, and about London, though the showing in Australia was a surprise.
“He and Amy are always coming into the post office with boxes of supplies, telling me how expensive things are and you can’t get fresh food up north. How your internet connection is spotty, and your cell phone is even worse. How the hell is he supposed to get his supplies for his art up there? To stay in touch with the galleries and his agent? Or are you expecting him to just do Inuit art, like the world doesn’t have enough Inukshuks and soapstone carvings.”
“I’m not.”
June took another step forward. “You’re selfish, that’s what you are. You’re going to cost him his career and he’s going to end up hating you.”
Which was exactly why she’d resigned from the force and accepted the job with the O.P.P. but there was no way she was going to tell this bitch about her plans before surprising Ryan with the news. “He’s not going to have to move up north with me. Just wait for a couple days and you’ll understand.”
Concern filling his face, Ryan rushed toward them, a heavyset man beside him, holding Don’s sister Katie by the hand.
“June, have you seen Kev?” the other man asked, his gaze darting around the room,. “He told me he was going to the food table for a cupcake.” But now we can’t find him.”
“That boy is such a challenge.” June’s antagonism changed to frustration. “If I’ve told him once, I’ve told him a thousand times not to wander away. Have you checked with Mom? She’s probably got him.”
June’s husband shook his head. “No. I already found Betty Ann—she hasn’t seen him either.”
“Maybe he went to the bathroom,” Meg suggested. “Did you check there?”
Ernie shook his head again. “I checked already. Both of them. He’s not there.”
“He’s gotta to be here somewhere here.” June glanced around the room, desperation creeping into her voice. “He’s gotta be.”
Ryan ran his hands over his jaw. “I’ve looked under all the counters in the store, and the cloakroom too. What do we do now?”
“My God, what if someone’s taken him? He trusts everyone he meets.” June clung to her husband’s arm. “He’s so little. He couldn’t protect himself. Oh my God. Ernie, what if we’ve lost him?”
“He’s probably hi
ding somewhere, thinking he’s having a good joke on us all,” Meg said, her training keeping her calm. The last thing they needed added to this scenario was a panicked mother who might make a child afraid to reveal himself for fear of being punished.
She scanned the room and checked for possible hiding spots but came up blank. She’d been involved in too many search parties that had taught her that when a kid disappeared in a Canadian winter, not a minute could be wasted. To go around and ask each individual person if they’d seen Kevin would take too much time so she climbed up on a chair and whistled. All conversation stopped and everyone looked at her expectantly.
“Has anyone seen Kevin Jennings? He’s four years old. About forty pounds, and about three and a half feet.” She glanced at Kevin’s parents for confirmation and received a nod.
“He’s wearing a Maple Leafs jersey and blue jeans.” She glanced at June and her husband. “He wasn’t wearing a coat when I saw him...”
“We left it at the coat check booth. It was still there when I checked a minute ago.”
“Have you checked your car? Maybe he’s gone out there.”
“I’m on it.” Kevin’s father headed for the door.
Here was hoping he was wearing a coat if he’d gone outside. With the wind chill, hypothermia would set in within minutes. She straightened and held up her hands again, stopping the noise that had already begun to grow. “Okay, people, listen up. We need to find him.”
She pointed to a group of men standing closest to the door and started singling them out. “I need you to go outside and help Mr. Jennings check the parking lot. Check every single car to see if he’s crawled into one. You—” she pointed to another group, “—check the road, and the banks on either side in case he’s climbed them or gotten stuck in a snow bank.” Kids had been known to try to build forts inside them only to have the bank collapse and trap them. “Everyone else, check every corner of this place, open any doors, check under any counters. Anywhere an inquisitive boy might wedge himself into.”
The energy in the room electrified; repeated calls of “Kevin” echoed from both inside and out. She climbed down from the chair and snagged Sophie’s sleeve. “Check the pond and make sure he’s not anywhere around it. Make sure there are no breaks in the ice.” If there were...she didn’t want to think about that event. “Then check to see if he’s walked to your place—it’ll be easy to see any footsteps with this new snow.”