by Rita Sable
Solutions to her problem formed in her mind and she tossed them out one by one. She couldn’t find a single, simple way to tell Trevor she knew about the numbers engraved on the diamond without betraying her professional trust. By all rights, the stone belonged to Mr. Andrews.
Most definitely the numbers were of real interest to Trevor. It was the only oddity and the only thing that made sense. How could she give him that information and not lose him or her career?
She buried her face into hot jetting water and rinsed the thick lather she’d built up in her hair. A quick gust of air announced the shower door had opened and clicked shut again. Cynthia gasped in surprise, temporarily blinded by shampoo in her eyes.
“Easy, darling. It’s just me,” Trevor said. “Here, let me help you.”
Warm, wet hands cupped her face. Without words, he gently washed the suds away from her eyes, then tilted her head back under the water and massaged her scalp, freeing the remaining shampoo until her hair was squeaky clean from roots to ends.
She blinked her eyes clear and gave him a shaky smile. Water spray splashed across his smooth skin and made every bulging muscle stand out with glossy definition. Desire warmed her blood at the thought of running her soapy hands all over his hard, wet body. He gathered her hair in his fists and squeezed excess water out of it.
“Thanks,” she said. “I should just cut my hair to a more manageable length.”
“That would be such a shame.” He slicked his hands down the wet strands hanging down her back. “You have such beautiful sexy hair. Makes a man want to wrap it around his hands and pull you close, hold you captive for his kiss. You do have a kissable mouth, Cyn.”
Her nipples peaked from the seductive words and the image they invoked inside her head. She tipped her face up, offering her mouth. “So, what’s stopping you?”
A dangerous gleam narrowed his eyes into fathomless pools of blue. Tiny drops sparkled from his dark lashes and curled the longer ends of his hair against his neck. Hot water sluiced between their bodies. Slowly, he wound her hair around both hands, inching up her body, trapping her inside his embrace. “You haven’t told me yet what you like from a man, darling. So I’ll ask another question, how do you like it?”
“Hard,” she blurted out before her common sense made her stop. He listened, watching. His attention gave her courage to say the words she’d never been brave enough to say before. “I like hard, fast sex, Trevor.”
He pulled her closer, her head held tight by the hair trapped inside his fist, firmly but just below the point of pain. Slick juices flooded her already wet pussy and dripped down her thighs. She swallowed the tight knot of excitement in her throat.
“Cyn, Cyn.” His eyebrow jetted up. With a firm tug on her hair he exposed her throat. He licked a hot path from her collarbone to her ear and whispered, “Are you sure you know what you’re saying? I don’t want to hurt you.”
She tried to nod but couldn’t move. “Yes, I’m sure. But I’ve never found anyone who could give me what I really want. I like a little…force. In my fantasy, that’s what really turns me on.”
A growl of male excitement rumbled from his chest. He slid his lips against the side of her mouth and spoke against her wet cheek. “A little pain goes a long way when it’s given in the heady thrill of pleasure, doesn’t it?”
Did he understand what she meant? What she wanted? Her breath rushed out of her lungs. She leaned her body into his, stabbing the aching tips of her nipples against his firm, slippery, wet chest. Her hands curved around his lean hips and grabbed onto the firm flesh of his tight ass. “Yes! Yes, it does. Can you do that, Trevor? Can you be hard with me and stay in control? Take me every way you can?”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. Trevor stared into her eyes, seeming to judge her sincerity, her desire. “I can do that, Cyn. I like hard sex. But before we begin, we need some ground rules.”
“There are rules? Like what?”
“We need a safe word.”
She blinked. “A safe word. Why?”
He moved the hard planes of his chest across her nipples, sending arcs of fire surging through her body from both tips. His cock brushed against her belly, branding her with wet heat. “Say that word and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing to you. It should be an uncommon word but one that you’re familiar with so you don’t forget. Because if you beg me to stop I may not believe you really want me to. Do you understand?”
“I understand.” She swallowed thickly, mesmerized by the proximity of his firm, sensuous mouth. “When can we start?”
He groaned. “Choose your word. Carefully.”
“Uncle.”
“Uncle?”
“Yes. Not very original, I know but it’s what my brother and I used whenever we wrestled with each other as kids. Whoever cried ‘Uncle’ first, the other stopped whatever torture we were doing and won the game. It’s a word I’d remember easily.”
“Uncle it is. But this isn’t child’s play.” He grazed his lips across hers again. “Now, promise me you won’t be scared? And if anything hurts beyond what you find stimulating, you’ll tell me right away? You’ll say the safe word?”
“I promise, I promise, I promise.”
“Good.” He smiled, showing all of his white teeth. “You’re an exceptional woman, Cyn. Strong. Adventurous. And so beautiful. I’m going to make you burn, darling.”
Her heart hammered with growing excitement. A trace of that excitement spilled from her lips in a long moan. Her pussy pulsed with need. She arched herself into his thrusting erection, squeezing the hot length between their bodies.
“Oh, please, Trevor. Make my fantasy come true.”
“And what fantasy would that be? Something…forbidden? Something a little dangerous?”
Feeling bold, secure in the knowledge he wanted the same thing she did, Cynthia finally whispered the fateful words she’d never dared speak to a man, “Tie me up, Trevor.”
“You little minx,” he growled. “Enough talk.”
Before she knew what he intended, he released her hair, flipped her around so that she faced the shower wall and captured both of her wrists behind her back as if he were arresting her. Holding both of her wrists with one steely hand, he then forced her sensitive nipples against the cold, hard tile wall.
Shock and excitement mixed in her blood like a heady brew, making her dizzier than if she were drunk. She struggled, trying to twist free from his strong grip. Her futile efforts seemed only to entice him more. And her inability to break free thrilled her. He growled into her ear, reached around her chest and captured one breast in his other hand, nearly flattening it with his palm. He massaged it roughly, just below the point of hurting. Then he pinched the engorged tip once, making it throb, making her strain for more. She gasped and tried to pull away.
“Go on,” he whispered harshly. “Try to stop me. Try to escape.”
His cock, with its rapid, straining pulse, nestled between her buttocks. She whimpered with expectation and from the thrill that coursed through her blood while she pretended to be taken against her will.
“Bastard,” she hissed playfully. “Let go of me!”
He forced one knee between her legs and pushed them apart, none too gently. He dragged his palm from her breast, down across her belly and slid it between her spread legs. Two thick fingers thrust past her swollen pussy lips, probed and then sank deep into her slick channel. Squeezing her eyes shut, she bit her bottom lip at his sudden but welcome invasion. She moaned and bucked into his hand, marveling at the firm control he kept on both of their bodies.
Trevor finger-fucked her hard, then soft and hard again. “Oh yeah, you want it here, don’t you?” He drew out her juices until she squirmed uncontrollably against him.
“Spread your legs. Bend over,” he ordered gruffly and tightened his grip on her hands. He stretched her shoulders back as far as they would go, holding her body like a bow for his pleasure. Excitement at being at his mercy coursed through her. She
waited for his next move, trembling with expectation.
“I wonder, how tight is your sweet little ass? Ever been fucked there, Cyn?”
She tried to shake her head and yelped when his fist tightened on her hair. “No. Haven’t done that yet.”
He slicked the hard length of his erection up and down her crack. “Another time, then.”
In one powerful thrust from behind he drove the entire length of his cock into her pussy. She let out a deep breath and groaned, then squeezed her muscles around him. The toys she regularly played with had taught her exactly how to do this. There was no pain, only the satisfying fullness and tingling pressure as he filled her quickly, completely. But this was role-playing. He held her captive. She was supposed to act scared.
She screamed against the wall, bracing her cheek against the misty tile.
He wrapped his free hand around her body and cupped her sex again, rubbing her pussy lips in synchronous rhythm while he slammed into her body from behind. “You’ve been a bad girl, Cynthia. You’ve done this before.”
“No. Oh God, never,” she mumbled between grunts of wicked pleasure. He tunneled through her swollen flesh until he found her throbbing clit. The spiral of intense ecstasy uncoiled inside her belly, unleashing a flood of juices around his cock.
“Don’t lie to me,” he growled into her ear. He plunged in and out, stretching her swollen tissues ruthlessly. He teased her clit in the same rhythm. “Your lies will only make it worse.”
“Noooo.” She was nearly breathless now, panting uncontrollably against his hard thrust from behind. “Oh yes!”
Her orgasm shook her from head to toe, spreading like wildfire throughout her body and melting her bones. If Trevor didn’t have such a firm grip on her body, she would have fallen over, landed in a crumpled heap of quivering flesh beneath the shower spray.
“Damn!” he swore loudly, his breathing rapid and harsh. He let her hands go and gripped her hips, digging his fingers into her skin. Then he powered his cock into her tight sheath, making a slapping sound with each forceful thrust. She braced her hands against the wall. Over and over he pounded into her, harder each time, until Cynthia knew she would be sore. His cock jerked inside her, spurting hot seed deep into her womb as he roared his release.
She whimpered, completely spent, shaking and trembling from her excitement, deliriously happy. Her fantasy had come true. Instantly she wished for more.
Trevor ran his hands over her spine, shoulders and hips, once again using a soft stroke now that they’d both been sated. He eased his still-thick cock out of her body and delicately washed hot water over her tender flesh.
“Are you all right?” He turned her around to face him and leaned her against the wall with strong but gentle hands on her shoulders. She was as limp as a rag doll, unable to resist anything more he wanted to do to her. Her eyelashes fluttered open when he began rubbing sweet-scented soap over her arms and chest.
“Cynthia? Talk to me. Tell me you enjoyed that?”
“Mmm,” she murmured, still reveling in the intensity that continued to echo inside every cell of her body. “That was wonderful. You were wonderful. You just made my dream come true, Trevor.”
“Mine too, darling.” He grinned, his eyes twinkled. “Next time, it will be even better with handcuffs.”
Chapter Fifteen
Watching Trevor dress was almost as much of a turn-on as watching him undress. Cynthia sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, a fluffy white hotel bathrobe wrapped around her body. Her wet hair draped across one shoulder while she worked a brush through each tangled strand.
He donned formfitting briefs and tugged dark jeans up his legs. “I have to go out alone this morning.”
Cynthia nodded mutely.
“Do not leave this room, Cyn.” He tied the laces of his short boots with quick, efficient motions. Then he pulled a navy blue turtleneck sweater over his head. It messed up his hair, she wanted to drag her fingers through the thick, glossy mass. “You don’t leave for any reason,” he continued, “unless the hotel is burning down. Can I trust you with that?”
“Yes. But why can’t I go with you?”
He slid his gun harness over his broad shoulders and attached the other to his lower leg. He reached for his guns, flipped each weapon’s chamber open, peered into it, snapped it shut and slid it into place. His movements were confident and smooth. Gone was the fierce yet tender lover who’d shared her bed and shower. He’d transformed back into the dark and dangerous man from Interpol, determined to find his quarry no matter what or who stood in his way.
“You need to stay here because I’m meeting with someone who might have some information about Andrews’ whereabouts. But he doesn’t know I’m coming and he’s not going to be happy to see me. I can’t risk having you there. Stay here.”
He reached for his leather jacket and shrugged into it, effectively hiding his weapon. Then he opened his wallet and pulled out a card. “Here’s my cell phone number. Stay in this room. Promise me you’ll do as I say?”
“Okay, I promise.” She pouted, reaching for the card. “Geez, I feel like a kid who’s been grounded and I haven’t even done anything to deserve it.”
Trevor stepped closer to the bed. “Come here.”
Cynthia crawled over to the edge and kneeled in front of him. He ran his hand down her wet hair and tipped her face up with his finger. “Don’t make me worry about your safety while I’m gone, Cyn.”
She started to say she’d promised not to leave but the words died on her lips. He smelled of soap and that pure, sexy male essence that was uniquely his. He pulled her up by the shoulders and brushed the lightest kiss across her mouth. She let the tip of her tongue touch his upper lip. He went from gentle to demanding in the flash of a heartbeat. He crushed his mouth down on hers. She quivered under the onslaught of his kiss and savored the full thrust of his tongue into her mouth, the exquisite pressure of his lips against hers. Just when she was beginning to melt into a puddle on the bed, he released her, leaving her gasping for air.
“Dammit, Trevor, that wasn’t fair.”
“I know. It’s a reminder there’s more where that came from, and if you want it, you’ll stay put. I won’t be long. There’s a fruit basket in the living room if you get hungry. I’ll leave the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door. I’ve sent orders that the maids are not to bother with this room, not until I return. Nobody knows you’re here and that’s the safest thing for you. Do you understand that?”
“Yes. Okay.”
She sank back down into the mattress. His hard kiss and the clean, masculine scent of him made her brain fuzzy and her body hungry with renewed desire. She took a deep breath to clear the sex-fog from her head.
“Will this be over today if you find Mr. Andrews? I’d kinda like to get back to my old life. I have a design to finish for a contest that’s due in two weeks and I’m running out of time to do my entry justice.”
He caressed her cheek with his knuckles. “I hope so. It all depends on if I find him. I should be back before lunch.”
* * * * *
At one p.m. Cynthia hung up the phone after an all-too-brief and disappointing conversation with the Humane Society. No pure white shorthaired cat of Moses’ description had shown up since yesterday. Fresh tears pricked her eyes. She felt like screaming with frustration and worry for his safety. The thought of her sweet baby outside, alone, fending for himself, was enough to shred her heart to pieces. She pictured him scared, hungry, cold and tired.
She sat on the couch wearing jeans and her favorite pale pink angora sweater, feeling heartsick and angry. She picked up the remote control and restlessly flipped through the channels on the TV, not really seeing any of the images that flashed across the screen.
Guilt hunted the edges of her mind like the rabid hound from hell. The more she tried to avoid it, the closer it got to biting her in the ass. It made her fidgety and stole her focus.
Her sketchpad and pencils lay scatt
ered on the coffee table. Wads of discarded pages tumbled like paper snowballs on the carpet near the wastebasket. She couldn’t concentrate. Her creative spirit had apparently gone into hiding—and she knew exactly why.
The American Jewelry Designer contest deadline loomed closer and closer. She had precious little time left to create her contest ring. She couldn’t do any of it until she cleared her mind and satisfied her conscience. All of her sketches focused on a round stone of exquisite beauty. It would be so perfect…
That damned diamond and those cryptic numbers. What the hell should I do? Please, let Trevor find Mr. Andrews today.
She wanted to give back the stone, let him and Trevor deal with it. Maybe then her fickle muse would return and this horrid nightmare would be done. But, what if Trevor didn’t find him today?
Trapped. She felt cornered without any escape from this tangled, dangerous mess. Trevor’s hotel room, as spacious as it was, made her feel claustrophobic too. If she couldn’t work and be creative, she wanted to go out. A brisk walk would clear her mind.
Agitated by her confinement, she stepped to the window and pulled the sheer inner curtain aside to look out over the city below. Heavy cloud cover turned everything into gloomy gray. The cold, damp weather glazed the window, dripped down the walls of buildings directly across from her view and settled into wet puddles on the streets. Morosely, she listened to the local weatherman on TV warn his audience of more snow on the way.
How can I fix this? I have to do something!
A desperate idea formed in her mind. It was distasteful at best, cowardly at worst. She could write a note with the numbers she’d copied down from her examination of the diamond and leave it for Trevor to find when he returned. That’s what he wanted, right? He wouldn’t care that she disappeared from sight once he had what he needed. And when she found Mr. Andrews again, she’d give him the diamond.
Everyone would be happy. Best of all, she could avoid the painful emotions that no doubt would erupt if she had to say a formal goodbye to Trevor. Better to make a clean break.