Protected by a Dangerous Man

by Cleo Peitsche

  “Open your mouth.” He leaned over me, the hot length of his cock sliding against my cleft as his hard thighs pressed into mine. It was difficult to keep my balance.

  Confused, I opened my mouth, and Corbin shoved the brush’s handle between my teeth.

  “You can bite on that if you feel yourself getting close,” he said.

  He rested some of his weight on me, a reminder of his size and strength. His strong fingers dug into my shoulder and his lower arm pressed into my back.

  He moved his hips away, and my pussy shuddered. I arched my back. A few strands of my hair tumbled forward and dragged over the brush’s bristles. Jerking my head, I tried to shake the hair free before it tangled.

  “Be still,” Corbin ordered.

  The head of his cock prodded rudely at my slit. He slapped my ass, making me suck in air through my clenched jaw.

  “Open your legs for me, baby.” He pinched at my inner thighs, and even though I was trembling all over, I eased my legs apart for him.

  “Yeah, just like that.” Then he was sliding into my silken heat.

  I groaned, then immediately clamped my inner muscles in the hope that it would keep me from orgasming. To my relief, it worked.

  Once Corbin was fully sheathed, he did me the great favor of remaining still.

  It was almost like he was trying to help me, like he didn’t want to see me fail at this.

  Of course I knew better. Little would bring Corbin more pleasure than if I were unable to keep myself from coming—what an ego boost for any man—and then he got to punish me for it, which was a reliable favorite of dominant, sadistic men, or at least my dominant, sadistic man.

  A nervous little worry cropped up in me as he began thrusting, too fast to let me savor it but too slow to send me over the edge. Corbin had a million ways to make me orgasm when I didn’t want to, yet he’d opted for a tempo—and angle, I realized—that made it relatively easy for me to resist.

  I didn’t know what his game was, and I suspected I wouldn’t be happy once I found out.

  Being fucked while trying not to come wasn’t my idea of pleasurable. All I wanted was release, and I couldn’t have it.

  The teasing blossomed into exquisite torture as Corbin pounded me. Each of his powerful thrusts sent my body pressing forward, the handcuffs digging into my skin, the chains jerking and jangling.

  He hadn’t truly punished me with the brush, but he was punishing me now. The brush’s handle grew slick in my mouth. I tried to swallow the saliva, but I couldn’t, and anyway the taste of wood wasn’t exactly pleasant.

  I wished he would uncuff me, allow my aching muscles a break. Instead, his fingers curled around my hips, bouncing me against him.

  My jaw ached as I bit harder into the handle.

  Then, suddenly, he stopped.

  His hands skimmed up my bare flesh, from my hips to my shoulders and across my outstretched arms, the touch featherlight.

  He nuzzled my neck, his stubble rasping against my skin. “You feel so good, baby,” he said. “Drop the brush.”

  I didn’t need to be told twice. The brush bounced onto the floor and skimmed across my left foot. My toes curled.

  One of Corbin’s hands was on the move again, a reverse journey that didn’t end until his fingers rested on my clit.

  My lower body was drenched and hot, and my pulse throbbed all over.

  “Please,” I whispered, my throat hoarse, my mouth still tasting of wood.

  He drew his index finger down a bit, and my inner muscles tightened almost violently, choking his substantial girth. I hadn’t forgotten he was inside me, but the reminder made my sex feel lava hot. I was balanced on the precipice. It wouldn’t take much to send me sailing over the edge.

  Corbin could give me simple release or a mind-blowing orgasm.

  “Do you want to come?” he asked, pressing deeper into my slick flesh.

  “Yes,” I panted. “Yes. Definitely.”

  “Well…” He nibbled just below my ear. “I want something, too.”

  I couldn’t even imagine what he might ask for, but I found myself practically sobbing, “Ok, I agree.”

  Corbin’s chuckle sent a gust of intoxicatingly warm air into my hair. “I’m tempted to demand all sorts of depraved things,” he said. “But all I want is a weekend in the mountains.”

  “Ok,” I whimpered.

  “Just the two of us.” His finger stroked circles around my clit, sending my arousal into a fever pitch. “Not this weekend, but the one after.”

  “Yes.” I knew I shouldn’t agree, but I couldn’t help it.

  “And no matter what happens with work, you’re not canceling. I want your word, baby.”

  “I promise I won’t,” I said, out of my mind with lust.

  “Good.” His cock grew even stiffer, even bigger. I felt like I was going to split in half. He clamped his other hand over my mouth and worked a thick finger between my lips.

  Instantly I began sucking him. My entire body shook and pulsed.

  I was going to orgasm now… couldn’t hold back…

  “Come for me,” he whispered, rubbing my clit.

  I cried out, throatily, lustily, well past the point of speaking. An earthquake seemed to be shaking the building. Corbin moved his hand from my oversensitive clit and wrapped a strong forearm under my lower stomach, keeping my writhing body impaled on his cock. With each pump of his hips, he shoved me forward and onto my toes.

  My eyes closed, I sucked harder on his finger.

  Corbin’s cock jerked, and his growling moan sent tingles of pleasure dancing along my buzzing nerve endings. I felt him unloading inside of me and couldn’t help but feel the satisfaction of a woman who had driven a man out of his mind with desire.

  Never mind that he’d been in control the entire time. Never mind that he’d made me beg, made me agree to a weekend in the mountains at a time when I was trying to keep some space between us.

  He dropped his hand from over my mouth, turning my head toward him as he leaned over me. His fingers found my clit again, and I almost died.

  “Love how your pussy squeezes me, baby.” Corbin’s fingers tightened on my jaw, and his tongue thrust through my gasping lips as I came again.

  Chapter 4

  Corbin unlocked the handcuffs and pulled away the length of chain, letting it clang onto the floor.

  The moment I was free from the restraints, I collapsed into a shivering, shuddering lump. Corbin’s arms were already around me, lifting me.

  I squirmed, but he held me tight. “Stop trying to make me drop you,” he said gruffly, but he wasn’t the least bit winded, wasn’t having the slightest difficulty.

  His skin was damp and surprisingly cool. The smell of slightly musky, clean sweat reached my nose. Corbin’s natural scent was intoxicating to me on a completely animal level.

  He gently lowered me to the bed.

  “But the sheets,” I protested. “I’m sticky.”

  “They can be washed.” He flopped down next to me.

  “Suppose we have surprise guests?” I asked, stretching my arms out and over my head. My shoulders were going to be sore in the morning.

  Corbin sighed, sounding like a deeply satisfied man. “Anyone who shows up tonight will just have to make do with one of the smaller guest rooms.” He turned onto his side. “I have news.”

  The one time I’d neglected to ask if there had been progress. “With your ex or with Massimo?”

  Something dark flickered across his features. “Massimo. I captured something from the bug I planted in Neil’s living room.”

  I bolted upright, ignoring my protesting muscles. “What?”

  Stifling a yawn, Corbin gently pulled me back down. “I’ll play the recording for you if you like.” His eyes slowly closed.

  “Yes,” I said impatiently. He didn’t move. “Are you going to make me beg for everything from now on?”

  “Now, that’s an idea,” he said, and even though his voice was tire
d, the smile showed right through.

  “Corbin, please. This is serious.”

  “I know it is, baby,” he said. “I sent a copy of the recording to your phone—”

  “When? I didn’t get it.”

  “That’s because I sent it when you came through the door. I didn’t want to distract you at work.”

  I started to get up, but Corbin pulled my shoulder. “Just relax,” he said, then slid out of bed and gracefully rose to his feet.

  I picked at an uneven fingernail and waited for Corbin to return. Ever since Neil had blackmailed me into taking Massimo’s case, I’d felt like a dog chasing its own tail. In the dark.

  My troubles had started when I’d agreed to do a little private investigation work for Frances, who was support staff at the local sheriff’s office. She’d been suspicious of her grandson’s new boyfriend, and the second I saw a photo of Massimo, I knew why. Massimo was extraordinarily handsome, with a well-maintained physique, a face that could have inspired countless Renaissance painters, and a taste for the finer things in life.

  In contrast, Neil was merely cute, but he had a well-paying bank job.

  I’d always wanted to be a PI, so I’d taken the case as a favor to Frances. I’d also estimated that when I was ready to hang out my shingle, she’d be able to send business my way. She’d been working there forever and was halfway between a mascot and a terror. People listened to her. Because I didn’t have a PI license, and because my dad and Rob were against the idea in general, I hadn’t bothered telling them. It was all off the books.

  During my investigation, I’d concluded that Massimo was a genuinely sweet guy. But then Massimo and Neil had broken up. A few days later, Neil and his ex-boyfriend JD were stabbed in a hotel room in LA. Neil survived but claimed not to remember anything about the attack.

  JD had died.

  And Massimo, who had gone to the hotel to try to make amends with Neil, had fled the scene of the crime. He’d ended up on a flight to Paris. The same flight I was on.

  That coincidence had been enough to convince Frances that I was hiding something, and Massimo’s attempts to contact and follow me hadn’t exactly helped.

  Now I was investigating at Neil’s behest while he slowly—very, very slowly—tried to smooth things over with his grandmother. Even though Frances was taking a leave of absence from the sheriff’s department, she’d turned Stroop Finders into a pariah. Behold the power of an angry grandmother whose friends carried badges and guns.

  I had underestimated Neil. He was crafty. Which was exactly why he was taking his time to fix things with Frances. I’d been calling every day to ask him to make a goodwill gesture and talk to her. He always said things were looking promising.

  However, I was starting to think he hadn’t contacted his grandmother even once. Whenever I asked him specifically what they’d discussed, he claimed a headache.

  Having been brutally stabbed was surely an ordeal for Neil, for anyone, but in my opinion, he was milking it when he wanted sympathy. Good luck trying to prove it, though.

  So far, I had one suspect, the well-liked Congressman Leon Bowlst. JD’s sister had said he was secretly dating her brother, and I’d confirmed that with a neighbor, who’d also said that Bowlst was a controlling boyfriend. But even I wasn’t crazy enough to accuse a congressman of murder without proof.

  Corbin returned, carrying a glass of water and the phone. I didn’t know what was on that recording, but I was desperate for anything even remotely useful.

  He came around to my side of the bed and handed over both as he sat. I drained half the water—I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was; ever since the heat wave had broken, I’d stopped chugging liquid every fifteen minutes—and opened my email.

  There was Corbin’s message. As a bonus, he now had irrefutable proof of when I’d walked through the door.

  Well after midnight.

  I tapped the play button.

  At first there was silence. I turned up the volume and only heard static.

  “Patience,” Corbin said just as a phone rang on the recording. Footsteps drew closer to the microphone.

  Hello? Neil’s voice.

  Then, Massimo? Where are you? Neil sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

  “We can’t hear Massimo’s side of the conversation?” I asked in a whisper. Corbin shook his head.

  I’m relieved, Neil was saying. I’ve been nauseated from worry. Listen, I haven’t said anything about anything, and you shouldn’t, either. It won’t help your case. The opposite, in fact—

  He broke off abruptly, and I assumed Massimo had interrupted him. Oh, what I wouldn’t have given to hear the other end of the conversation.

  Audrey’s working on it, Neil said. She’s got someone at the LAPD keeping her in the loop.

  That wasn’t true. At best, I got dribbles of whatever Jennifer was able to turn up. It didn’t matter, though, because the police were almost as in the dark as we were.

  Do you think that’s possible? Neil’s voice had turned breathless. I’ll ask. I’ll demand it. Massimo, I’m so sorry about this. It’s all my fault… Yes, I know. I love you, too.

  The recording cut off.

  “That’s it,” Corbin said. “I don’t have tape of Massimo, but he’s being monitored. He was asking if there was a chance of meeting.”

  “Yes!” I said, a little too forcefully. “I want to talk to Massimo the second he’s back in the country.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Why not?” I felt irritation biting into me. “How the hell am I supposed to investigate when everyone is lying and I can’t even talk to—”

  “It’s impossible for you to talk to him the second he’s back in the country,” Corbin explained, “because he arrived six hours ago.” He freed the glass from my hand and indulged in several long, leisurely swallows, his Adam’s apple slowly sliding up and down. The man was even sexy when he drank water.

  I waited for him to finish before asking, “Where is Massimo?”

  “In a type of witness protection,” he said. “If I tell you where he is, wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?” But he was smiling. “He’s in Chicago, but he’ll be relocated here early tomorrow.”

  My heart jumped into my mouth. “Then I can see him?”

  Corbin nodded.

  “Thank you,” I said. “What if we bring Neil, too?” An idea was starting to form.

  “That can be arranged,” he said. “On to the next order of business. Assuming no emergencies crop up, I plan to spend the weekend at the mountain house. You promised me next weekend, but I’d like you to come this weekend, too. We need to get back to normal, baby. Go for hikes, play Cannibal Carnival, eat good food and relax.”

  My gaze slid away from his.

  I’d backed out of going up last weekend because I was frustrated with Corbin, and being in the secluded mountain mansion, no matter how much I loved the house and its surrounding land, would have driven me crazy.

  And I was still upset with him. I would be as long as there were secrets between us.

  “Will you drive up on Friday?” I asked.

  “Most likely, yes. In the afternoon.”

  If Corbin was in the mountains, I’d have plenty of time to break into his office without worrying about him walking in. “Maybe I’ll come up on Saturday,” I said.

  He nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. “If you like, I’ll wait.”

  “Probably better not to. I might not make it up at all. Depending on how the work goes.”

  Depending on what I found in his office.

  Chapter 5

  The piercing sound of a phone sliced through my dreamless sleep, propelling me upright, sputtering for air. A deep ache in my arms and shoulders had me wincing.

  It was dark in the bedroom, but I could make out Corbin’s shape. He was already up and out of bed, grabbing his pajamas and moving toward the door.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Emergency.” He closed the
door behind him, but I could hear his voice as he moved away.

  “Great,” I said. “More secrets.” And I said it loudly in the hope that Corbin would hear.

  I yanked the covers over my shoulders as I flopped onto my stomach and closed my eyes. But as the minutes ticked by and Corbin still didn’t return, I started to worry.

  He didn’t often get calls in the middle of the night, but lately it was happening every couple of weeks. Usually, though, he dealt with the problem quickly.

  Now that I was more awake, I realized that Corbin wasn’t one to use the word emergency. And he never sounded… worried.

  Something was happening.

  Since I knew I’d be unable to fall asleep again, I stumbled out of bed, grabbed one of Corbin’s T-shirts and slipped it over my head, then went to find him.

  I expected he’d be sequestered in his office, but he was in the living room, standing in front of the balcony door and listening to whatever was being said on the phone. He surely saw my reflection in the glass as I came up behind him.

  He turned. To my surprise he held his arm out.

  I stepped in close, sliding against his warm body.

  “Understood,” he said. His voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating against my temple and cheekbone. “I’ll be available. Thank you for the call.”

  The moment he hung up, I tilted my head back to look at him. I didn’t ask what had happened, mostly because I was afraid he wouldn’t tell me, that he’d say it was top secret or something.

  It didn’t matter whether or not I spoke the words because Corbin surely read the worry in my eyes.

  “The informant—the man who was imprisoned with Audrey—was found dead about an hour ago,” he said. “Floating in the Seine.”

  I couldn’t help the flash of irritation at sharing a first name with Corbin’s ex, but I quickly quashed it. “The informant was in Paris all this time?” That surprised me. The man’s story had landed him a free trip to France, but he’d been more of a prisoner than a guest.

  Then the man had escaped.