Tina Takes a Tumble [Reunion Series Book II]

by Mimi Riser

  Pop!

  It broke open, and the force she'd used to accomplish the trick sent her leg swinging up behind her. The back of her ankle connected with a taut mound of flesh.

  A sharp gasp sounded. Not hers.

  "Fuck!” The curse came out in a deep groan that rolled into a growl. “You little bitch."

  Oh, God ... She'd banged him in the balls. Which had been her intent, actually, but now that she'd managed it, regret struck.

  So did Dave.

  Slam—wham—bam—

  Fast and furious, the flogger walloped her butt, wielded by a wild man—stinging, burning, slapping her silly...

  Or so he must have thought.

  Tina's brow furrowed in confusion. It did sting some, but wasn't it supposed to hurt more than this? She squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating on the blows, trying to figure out what the problem was ... if the idea of a relatively painless whipping could be called a problem.

  Ah! Now she had it. It was the flogger's fault. Or, maybe a “tickler” would be a better term for it. The thing was feather-soft. It might have been made from strips of the downiest chamois cloth—and it probably had been.

  Good grief, this was like being beaten by a bag of cotton balls. A giggle bubbled up inside her. Dave had apparently selected a lightweight weapon for her “punishment,” but, in his anger, had forgotten that little detail.

  Which meant he hadn't really planned to punish her at all—not originally, not till she'd cracked his nuts. Yeah, he'd teased her and tied her up, but aside from pulling her hair a little, he hadn't hurt her—physically. He had, in fact, been torturously tender. Some big, bad Master Dom he was.

  Ha. I know why he ended up in this line of work.

  For the same reason she'd been playing Miss Hot Tamale. He needed to prove his power, because he'd started off with so little sense of it. The two of them had been the shortest kids in their senior class. That wasn't so bad for a girl, but Dave had been tormented without mercy by the other boys.

  All except for Giorgio, of course, who'd always been secure enough with his own masculinity to feel no cause to belittle another's. Boy, I hope everything works out for him and Angel. I adore that woman, but I'll have to tell her she's a fucking fool if she lets Giorgio get away again.

  A love like those two had didn't come around often, or to many.

  God knows it's never come to me.

  And probably never would. Especially not now. A man didn't easily forgive the rattling of his family jewels.

  Tears welled up in her. Tears for herself and for the gentle little nerd, with the dreamy blue eyes, she'd once known. Damn him for being so cute and sexy, then and now. Damn him even more for not caring about her years ago, and for just using her today.

  But, most of all, damn me.

  Because in one afternoon she'd fallen in love with him all over again.

  Or was it that she'd never stopped loving him? Was that why she'd agreed to this reunion? She'd told herself she was doing it for Angel and Giorgio, but the thought of seeing Dave had raised old hopes in her as well. The way he'd begged her to attend, she'd thought maybe he'd been hoping for the same thing.

  Talk about being a fool.

  Here she hung, naked and shackled, mourning that which never was and probably never could be, while the object of that mourning rampaged around, whipping her with what amounted to a feather duster. Was this what they meant when they referred to someone hanging on a “lover's cross"?

  Ha-ha. The ridiculousness of the situation gripped her, and she started shaking with laughter that segued into sobs. Tears dripped off her and splattered on the black marble below. She laughed till her stomach ached, then sobbed as though her heart were broken. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it had been broken for years. One thing was certain: She had never wanted, never even tried to love anyone else...

  God, what was that? She flinched at a sudden sharp crack—winced as a blast of curses blistered the air.

  Dave. And still pissed, by the sound of him, even though the silly beating had abruptly ceased.

  So the crack must have been him hurling aside the flogger. Finally realized he'd been using the marshmallow variety, had he? Marvy.

  I'll probably get the real thing now. She had kicked him pretty hard, after all.

  Oh, what the hell. She could scarcely be more miserable at the moment. How much worse could a lashing make things? Sniffling and choking on sobs, she waited for it...

  * * * *

  Jeezus fucking Christopher ... What have I done?

  His breaths short and ragged, “Devil Dave” Hammer bowed his head and raked shaking hands through his hair. Tina's sobs filled his ears, but, for a horrible few seconds, he couldn't look at her. Shame weighted his eyelids shut. Shame and the thought that he'd just ruined any friendship the two of them had once had, along with any chance to revive it. He wanted to strangle himself. Him and his goddamned temper. The name “Devil” suited him better than many people suspected, didn't it?

  This ... this was precisely why he played it cool in the emotional areas of life. His temper couldn't be trusted. Sure, he rarely ever lost it; he'd always had good control, even as a kid. But when that control snapped, God pity whoever got in his way.

  Like Tina...

  Tina, the adorable pixie who'd tortured him with longing in high school and had haunted his dreams ever since.

  Tina, the gorgeous, vivacious woman who'd awakened in him today so many dormant emotions he'd lost his usual cool in more ways than one. That brief burst of rage had been but the tip of the volcano bubbling inside him. He'd never have blown his top if the rest of him hadn't already been heated to a fever pitch.

  Tina, his Tina, who he'd once loved—whom he now, too late, realized he still loved—and whom he'd just beaten the crap out of. Groan. She was going to castrate him with a dull butter knife, then walk out of his life forever, he was sure. And, of the two punishments, the second one seemed by far the worst.

  I want to kill myself.

  "Dave?” Tina sniffled, her voice thick from sobbing. “I hate to rush you, but if you're going to whip me, could we get on with it, please? I need to blow my nose."

  Another sniffle sounded, as though for emphasis.

  Dave's head snapped up. His eyelids popped open. Then narrowed.

  What the...? Did she have a cast iron bottom? It didn't look like iron. It looked plump and tender and oh so sweet. Her lovely ass was rosy from the tanning he'd given it, but mercifully unmarred. No evil red welts striped the soft skin. It was a miracle.

  Thank you, God!

  He dropped to his knees and planted reverent kisses all over those divine cheeks.

  "Eek!” She squeaked and squirmed. “What are you doing?"

  "Praying.” Let other men worship in their way; this was his altar. “I'm thanking Heaven you're okay. I was so afraid I hurt you."

  "I am hurt. But not from that stupid thing.” She kicked at the flogger, which had landed near her freed left foot. “I feel like shit, if you wanna know.” Her voice quavered and her body shuddered with suppressed sobs. “And I need a tissue, damn it."

  Dave glanced at the flogger.

  Fuck.

  Now he remembered. He hadn't intended to whip her at all—just tease—so he'd chosen the Hollywood model, the set-prop, the one that looked sinister but felt like a powder puff. That was the number one rule of bondage games the way he taught and played them—that it was a consensual activity, orchestrated for mutual pleasure. No participant got “punished” without prearranged permission. No one got anything they didn't want or couldn't handle.

  Except, he'd broken his own rules today, hadn't he? If he'd had a genuine flogger in his grasp when she'd kicked him, this could have been a whole different scene, and she realized that as well as he did. He might very well have taken the hide off her. His rage had been real, even if the whipping wasn't. He'd obviously scared the stuffing out of her. God knew he'd scared himself. And he'd broken more than the rules. Everyth
ing he'd feared was still a grim likelihood.

  Tina wouldn't want anything to do with him after this. Hell, she probably hadn't wanted much to do with him before this. It wasn't like they'd ever actually dated. He'd been too shy and insecure in his teens to ask her out. Also, too intimidated by her seven, overprotective big brothers—very big—any one of whom could have been the poster boy for a motorcycle gang. Come to think of it, they were a motorcycle gang. Whatever.

  A rusty sigh heaved out of him. What on Earth had made him think she'd care to rekindle a romance that no doubt had existed only in his own mind? Whose bright idea had it been, anyway, to bring her back to town for their class's twentieth reunion?

  Oh. Right. Mine.

  But he'd done it to reunite Giorgio with Angel, or so he'd told himself, since the latter would never have returned on her own, and only Tina, as her business partner and best friend, had the clout to drag her here. Such a smooth plan it had seemed, such a well-woven web. Who knew he'd get caught in it, too?

  With Tina's tempting, but now off-limits, ass in his face and her sexy scent in his nostrils, he unfastened the right ankle shackle, which loosed her lower half since she'd already broken the left shackle, as the lingering ache in his groin attested. His breath hitched when another ache joined it—and not just the one in his heart.

  Shit, he was starting to get hard again. Lord, what this woman did to him.

  Glum, pained, and irritated by his lack of control, he rose to his feet and released her wrists.

  "I hope Giorgio's having better luck than I am,” he muttered under his breath. “I'd hate to think I'm suffering all this for nothing."

  Tina's spine stiffened as her arms dropped to her sides. “Well, gee, I'm so sorry it's been such a fucking ordeal for you, having me naked and tied up and all. Not that I'm surprised, of course. You never loved me the way I...” She choked on a sob, swallowed it down, and forced out the words. “The way I loved you."

  Wait—wait—wait a minute. What did she say?

  Dave's heart stuttered, then began pounding like a jackhammer.

  She ... she ... she loved me?

  Meaning she might love him yet? He still had a chance?

  Hallelujah! There is a God!

  With Herculean effort, he kept himself on his feet. He so wanted to fall on his knees in worship once more. In breathless wonder, he stared at her.

  Still facing the cross, wobbling on her stilettos with her back to him, Tina sniffed and wiped the side of her hand across her nose. A sharp gesture, indicating a woman who felt she'd been scorned, he deduced. A wounded woman, battling for as much dignity as her shaky, bare-assed state would allow. Which wasn't much. But, damn, she was trying. The lady had balls ... um, figuratively speaking. That sassy, spit-in-your-eye spirit of hers was what had first attracted him to her. Tina took shit off no one, never had.

  She even decked Tommy Hicks once for calling me a “candy-ass dipshit” and dribbling creamed corn in my hair. They'd been moving through the cafeteria line at the time—Dave, then tall and beefy Tom, then Tina.

  "You know something, Hicks? You really stink,” she'd spouted. “Which is just what I'd expect from a giant asshole.” With that, she'd rabbit-punched the poor jerk in the kidneys. Growing up with brothers like hers, she'd learned a few tricks.

  I think I fell in love with her right then and there.

  But he'd never dared tell her. Free-spirited spitfires like her didn't date nerds. She'd have laughed herself sick, he'd been sure. Or worse yet, pitied him and offered the “Can't we just be friends?” line. So, he'd used the line first. Easier on his ego that way. And meeting her at the library for regular study sessions had seemed better than nothing. He'd grown quite fond of that old library. Those cramped, musty aisles of shelves, the polished wood tables. Even today the smell of lemon wax and books made him horny.

  Tina swung around to face him. “Shit, Dave, if you hadn't been so lousy at math, we'd probably never have been friends at all. You only used me to help you with your homework, so you could stay on the damn honor roll."

  "Nope, I only played dumb to spend time with you. For your information, I can do calculus and trig standing on my head.” He was a whiz at math.

  He did some fast figuring right then as she snorted in disbelief, pushed past him, and wriggled into her clothes.

  Five minutes there, three if I speed, and X+Y=O2...

  The “X” signifying the female chromosome, of course, and the “Y” the male. And anyone who needed the “O” explained had serious problems.

  Which I don't, I hope.

  Quickly, he yanked on his chinos and polo shirt, shoved his feet into his shoes, minus the socks, pocketed the condoms, and beat her to the door with several seconds to spare, but only because she'd paused to dig into her little beaded, fringed bag.

  He watched her blot tear-ravaged make-up and reapply her lipstick. “Such a waste. I'm just going to kiss it off you again."

  "Not in this lifetime. I'm through with your games. I know damn well you brought me here only to keep me out of Giorgio's hair while he goes after Angel."

  "Bullshit. Giorgio is more than capable of taking care of himself, and we both know it, babe. I brought you here for me. To fuck you."

  "When pigs have wings.” She gave him a glare as he blocked her exit.

  He parried it with a grin, one of his best, the devil's grin that melted panties—or so he'd been told on more than one occasion. Tina visibly quailed. Her lower lip trembled, but her eyes blazed defiance. Still ready to fight him, huh? Good. He enjoyed a challenge.

  He lowered his chin to gaze at her over his nose. “Would it change your mind if I admit I was madly in love with you years ago?"

  Her jaw dropped.

  He pressed home his advantage. “More to the point, I still love you. It's taken me till today to realize that, but it's the truth. I've never been able to forget you, Tina, though God knows I've tried. I've had more women than I can count since college.” Since he'd grown six inches, traded his glasses for contacts, and started working out. There he'd been, suddenly attractive, hot. And he'd taken full advantage of it.

  "It's been non-stop, wild, kinky sex since then,” he confessed. “But it all boils down to nothing, because none of those women were you. You're the only one I've ever really wanted. You were nice to me even when I was a ninety-eight-pound nerd. A guy's gonna remember something like that no matter what, I guess. I know now how much I've missed you, lady. My life has been damn empty without you."

  Uh-oh...

  Of all those women he'd had, in all those wild ways, Dave had never had one faint on him before. He raised his arms and caught her as the unconquerable Tina Molina collapsed against him with a breathy sigh.

  "Ooh, Davy, I ... I've missed you, too..."

  Damn, that was easy. He should have told her twenty years ago.

  Whistling “There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight,” he hoisted her over his shoulder, fireman-style, and strolled with her out the door and down the hall. His three waiters glanced up as he reentered the club's main room.

  "Hey, stud. Finally killed one with passion, huh?” said the pirate. “I knew it was only a matter of time."

  Adam, the one in the fig leaf, smirked. “Nah, she's still breathing. Just fainted. Women do that on me all the time."

  "Yeah, your breath knocks ‘em out,” Biggus Diccus drawled. He straightened the folds of his toga, stared at Tina's upturned ass, and licked his lips. “Need any help reviving her, Dave? Pleeeeease? I'm really, really good at mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Honest."

  "Bite me.” Dave flicked a bird at the trio, and, with their laughter echoing behind him, marched out the front door. Perverts.

  Tina's eyelids fluttered open when he buckled her into the passenger seat of his Bentley, but it took her till they were on the road to speak. She put a hand to her forehead.

  "Ooh ... I just had the weirdest dream. I thought I heard you say you ... you...” Her gaze slanted to hi
s. “You l-love me?"

  She said it as a question, but there was no doubt in Dave's mind. Once he made a decision, he generally stuck to it.

  "Is that a problem if I do?” He curled his fingers around hers, tugged and brought her hand to his lips. He'd rather have kissed her on the mouth, but he was driving very fast, in a very expensive car, and didn't want to chance crashing it. He was in love, but he was still practical.

  "No, I—” Her voice caught as he sucked the tip of each finger in turn. “I don't think so. I ... I just wanted to be sure, is all."

  "Then be sure. I love you.” And it was even easier to say it the second time. He was getting good at this. He kissed her hand once more, for emphasis, then pulled into a parallel parking space on the main street of town before a massive white stone building with carved columns standing like Titan sentries across its front.

  Safe. Now he could lay a lip-lock on her. A click sounded as he unfastened her seatbelt. Leather rasped on plush upholstery as he pulled her across the seat. Then she was on his lap, and deep into a tongue-probing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Very reviving.

  Suddenly, Tina stiffened and pushed back against his chest, her face bright pink. “Dave—Dave, stop. Someone's watching us.” She peered out the driver's side window at a tall, beefy figure standing across the street. Her eyes narrowed and anger flashed in her gaze. “Goddamn it, it's that asshole, Tommy Hicks. I'll teach him to spy—"

  Before Dave could prevent her, she'd scrambled off his lap and out the door, her fists clenched for battle.

  "No! Tina, wait!” He caught her about the waist and held her while Hicks smiled and waved, then climbed into his big Ford pick-up and drove off in the direction of the high school. “It's okay. We're friends now. He works for me."

  "He works for you?” She blanched. “Doing what, for chrissakes?"

  "Janitorial. He cleans the restrooms at the club. If he keeps doing a good job, next year I may let him use a brush."

  "Oh, yuck.” She made a gagging noise.