by Liliana Hart
He arched a brow at the evasive answer and his cock jerked in anticipation. “You’ve got my hands tied, sugar.”
He jerked against his restraints and shrugged as if there wasn’t much more he could do. He knew her well. Knew when she’d reached the point where dominance took a back seat to the pleasure she sought. The less he begged, the sooner she would get down to giving him what they both wanted.
“I’ll give you a hint,” she said, and then she pouted prettily as the bedside phone rang.
“I’m on call,” he said, voice strained.
“Well, isn’t that awkward?” she said with a cheeky grin. “At least it’s going to be.”
And before he could stop her she used the harness to swing down to the side of the bed and hit the button for speakerphone. He didn’t know how she managed to move so gracefully. It was something as simple as breathing for her.
“Coop, are you there?” Beckett asked, his voice tinny as it filled the room.
Sweat dripped from Cooper’s temples and he closed his eyes, trying to get his brain cells in working order.
“I’m here.” His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat.
“Tried your cell, but Lane said you’d gone home for lunch, so thought I’d take a chance. You feeling okay? You don’t sound so good.”
“Think I’m coming down with a cold.” Cooper shook his head in warning at Claire as her mouth quirked devilishly. He knew that look. She was up to no good. “And maybe a fever. I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
Claire fluttered her eyelashes and nodded enthusiastically, and then she crawled back onto the bed, nipping at his thigh.
“I won’t take up much of your time then,” Beckett continued. “I just wanted to let you know what happened between me and Denny Trout down at the bakery before you hear it from anyone else.”
Cooper sucked in a breath as Claire turned away from him and straddled herself over his straining erection. It was then he saw the surprise she’d alluded to earlier and he almost swallowed his tongue. Her ass was lush and round and she bent forward on her knees, showing him a perfect view of the clear disc that covered her anal passage. She was wearing a plug, and if possible his cock went even harder at the thought that he’d get to explore that passage soon.
Claire sank down on his cock, taking it inch by inch, and he tried to stifle a moan as she seated herself reverse cowgirl to the hilt. From the snug fit of her pussy, she must’ve been wearing one of the larger anal plugs.
“Coop, you okay? You really sound terrible.”
“Never been better,” he said between clinched teeth. “I’ve already heard about you and Denny from about twenty people.” His breath hissed out as Claire looked over her shoulder and winked. And then she began to ride and any hope of keeping up with the conversation was lost.
“Just wanted to give you a heads-up. He’s out for blood.”
“Then watch yourself,” he managed to say. “Denny’s always been mean and he doesn’t care if he gets caught. He’s got a sheet as long as my arm of batteries and assaults. Several of them domestic with his first wife.”
Cooper tested the restraints around his wrists once more and heard the headboard creak. And then he pulled harder, until the wood cracked and splintered and his hand was free.
“10-4, Coop,” Beckett said. “I’m going to let you go before your fever reaches its breaking point. Make sure you tell Claire hello for me.”
The phone disconnected just as Cooper managed to break his other hand free from the restraints. Claire turned her head and her red mouth gasped a perfectly round “O.”
“I’ll let you be the boss the next two times,” he said, flipping their positions in a powerful motion so she was on all fours and he was mounted behind her. “I swear. But right now I’m going to fuck that sweet ass you teased me with.”
She was soaking wet and her muscles clenched around his cock as he made the promise of what was to come.
“Mmm, I sure hope so. Otherwise I’ve been wearing this thing all morning for nothing.”
He choked out a laugh and carefully removed the lubed plug from her anus, tossing it aside. “You wore it to work this morning?”
She held still as he lined up his cock with the stretched hole of her ass, and then as he began to penetrate she pushed back against him, taking him quickly, though not necessarily easily. He was a big man, and even with the proper preparation it took time and care. But she had other plans and began coming before his cock was buried all the way inside her.
The time for words and teasing was long gone, and only the animalistic sounds of hot, sweaty sex filled the room.
Cooper’s fingers bit into her hips and then without warning an orgasm more powerful than any he’d experienced exploded from the depth of his balls. His shout filled the room and blackness clouded his vision as he held onto her like an anchor in the storm. He collapsed and barely managed to turn before he crushed her with his weight. And before they both drifted to sleep he thought his fever might last well into the weekend.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, Marnie lay in bed, waiting for her racing pulse to slow and her body to stop vibrating from the climax she’d just had. Her dreams definitely had a mind of their own. Not that she was complaining, but it was something of a disappointment to wake up with the memory of a hard male body pressing her into the mattress only to find herself alone.
It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since their first meeting and she wanted Beckett more than she ever had. Which made her all the more resistant. Her power wouldn’t dictate her future. It was a dangerous trap to fall into, and one could spend a lifetime waiting for the future to unfold, only to find out too late a certain road should’ve been traveled to get there, but was instead missed.
She was going to learn to live on her own. She was going to discover who she really was. And she was going to heal. Nothing would make her rush the process. Not even Beckett Hamilton. And in the meantime, she could live with the dreams. It certainly helped her start off the day relaxed.
Marnie loved the house on the river. It was exactly what she needed—seclusion and privacy and a little bit of a fairy tale.
It was a small stone cottage nestled behind a bank of trees, and it couldn’t be seen from the road. In fact, she’d missed her turn into the narrow drive on more than one occasion. The stone was dark gray and black shutters flanked the windows. The sidewalk was graveled and snaked to the front porch.
The house was furnished, just as Cooper had told her, and she’d been able to find plain white cotton sheets at the mercantile and a set of towels in the same color. Everything was simple and comfortable, just as she preferred it, and she’d turned the second bedroom into a small office.
But the master bedroom was her favorite. The walls were painted a smoky gray and trimmed in white. The bed dominated the room—the ornately carved posts thick as a tree trunk—and the bedspread was a waterfall of shades of gray that matched the walls. But the centerpiece of the room was the large picture window that looked out over the river. There was a window seat with stuffed cushions and pillows that was perfect for relaxing with a good book. She especially liked it first thing in the morning, when the fog crept over the river and through the trees like smoky fingers.
She was an early riser, but she stayed in bed, watching the show until the sun’s rays shone through the window and prodded her to put her feet on the floor. The wood floors of the house were cold, so she put on the slippers and bundled up in her robe to go start the coffeemaker.
Part of Marnie wished she could avoid Beckett forever. Life had taught her some hard lessons. The most important being that the only person she could ever trust was herself. The second being that everyone had an agenda or something they wanted from you.
Her father had kept her around as a punching bag, and every once in a while he’d ask her a question like she was his own personal crystal ball. But she’d rarely been able to give him the answers he’d been
seeking. Clive had wanted to possess every part of her. To own her. And he had. She’d let him because there had always been that fear that if she did the wrong thing or displeased him, he’d turn into a version of her father.
She didn’t know what Beckett wanted from her yet, other than the obvious. Back before she’d left the first time, Beckett had been as young and naïve as she was. But he was a man now and she wondered what his ultimate goal was where she was concerned.
The other part of her, the less cautious part, longed to see him. The visions had led her back to Surrender, but they hadn’t shown her the future. Only that she was where she belonged. She knew their paths would cross again. It was inevitable. Just as she knew they’d eventually be lovers. But it would be on her terms. She wasn’t willing to give any part of herself away again. She’d already given too much, and there wasn’t much left.
Her focus was going to be her business and making a life for herself at the little house on the river. Maybe once she was feeling more comfortable she’d socialize outside of the MacKenzie circle. And maybe once she’d ventured out she’d take Beckett to her bed. But for now she was content with her own company.
She stood at the kitchen window, drinking her coffee and letting her mind wander when she heard the crunch of tires coming up the drive. A white Jeep she didn’t recognize skidded to a halt and she recognized the girl who’d claimed she was carrying Beckett’s child when she hopped out and slammed the door.
Marnie stepped out onto the front porch so the girl wouldn’t barge in. She seemed like the kind of person who would enter without an invitation. Blowing on her coffee, she took a sip and waited for the explosion that was about to come.
“You bitch!” Hazel said as she marched up the sidewalk and onto the porch steps. “How dare you think you can horn in on my man? He’s mine! Do you hear me?”
Marnie stared at her several seconds, long enough to have the girl shifting from foot to foot as she waited for the argument to escalate.
“I hear you, but interestingly enough, I don’t know you. Maybe you’d like to introduce yourself before you start calling me names on my own property.”
“Don’t act all high and mighty with me. My brother told me you were nothing but common trash. As far as my name, it’s soon to be Hazel Hamilton.”
“Ah, yes. I recognize the screech of your voice from your little episode in town the other day. And I guess your brother is right. I grew up about as poor as anyone could, but at least I have manners. Is that all you came to say to me? I’ve got to get ready for work.”
Hazel’s eyes narrowed at the dismissal and her face turned red, like a child throwing a tantrum. Marnie realized that’s exactly what she was. A spoiled brat.
“You were all anyone could talk about last night down at Duffey’s. How your daddy beat the shit out of Beckett back when you were kids cause y’all were fucking and got caught.”
“Is that what they say?” Marnie asked, brow raised in simple curiosity.
“Well, I’m here to tell you you’d better think twice about rekindling old flames. They were also saying he was sniffing around you yesterday afternoon and you were like a bitch in heat, ready to roll over right there on Main Street.”
“Must be an interesting crowd you hang with. So full of information. Like I said, I’ve got to get ready for work, and I’m out of the mood to deal with little girl tantrums. Actually, if you’ll hold on a second I’d love to get my camera. I make my living snapping interesting pictures of faces. I’d call yours Petulance.”
Hazel shrieked like a steam whistle and her fists bunched at her side. “You bitch!”
“You’re starting to repeat yourself and I’m bored. Go home to your mother and grow up.”
Hazel took several steps forward and Marnie straightened to her full height. “Don’t take another step. You’re on my land and I won’t hesitate to have you thrown behind bars for tresspassing.”
“You’re probably fucking the sheriff too,” she spat.
“Make sure you tell him that. I’m sure it’ll help lessen your time behind bars. I notice you haven’t mentioned the baby. I guess that didn’t pan out the way you wanted it to.”
Hazel stamped her foot and fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m going to make you wish you never stepped foot back in Surrender.”
“Little girl, I grew up under the fist of Harley Whitlock. If you think your tantrums scare me then you’ve got another thing coming. Go lick your wounds in private and stop making a fool of yourself. You spend a couple more nights down at Duffey’s, I’m sure you can find a cowboy that’ll make you forget all about Beckett Hamilton.”
Hazel turned sharply on her heel and got back into her Jeep, slamming the door and revving the engine before she sped away.
“Yet another reason to stay away from Beckett,” Marnie muttered, letting the screen door close softly behind her as she went back inside. He was nothing but trouble.
Chapter Thirteen
Marnie didn’t know whether to curse Lila Rose or give her a big hug.
She’d had nonstop phone calls from people wanting to set up appointments for three solid weeks. And if they couldn’t reach her by phone, they were coming by the studio and knocking on the door. Everyone wanted to get new pictures taken before the holidays, and several had asked if she could do Christmas cards.
Grant and his team were working nonstop, though they’d had a setback due to the fact that someone had thrown a brick through her front door during the middle of the night. They’d turned the deadbolt through the hole in the door and let themselves in, doing some damage to the walls and some of the framed photographs.
Downtown Surrender was virtually empty at that time of night, except for the few tenants that lived above some of the shops. And the culprit had waited until the deputy on duty had left the office next door to go on patrol. It was all very quick and the destruction to the inside seemed more of an afterthought as they’d picked up whatever tools had been left lying around to punch holes in the walls and scratch the surface of the desk.
Hazel’s presence hit her in the face the moment she’d walked in to see the damage, but she hadn’t acted alone. Someone else’s essence had been there as well. Marnie mentioned to Cooper about the little confrontation at the house between her and Hazel, so he went out to question her, but according to Hazel’s mother, she’d been out of town visiting friends during the breakin and she wouldn’t be back for another week.
Most of the damage had been cosmetic and was easily fixable, but it was still a personal attack and Marnie wasn’t about to let the guilty get away with it. But she could bide her time and be patient. Hazel couldn’t hide forever, and Marnie had worked too hard to just roll over and take it. If she did it once Hazel would do it again and again.
She was at least able to schedule delivery for all the supplies she’d ordered while Grant and his team did the repairs. Photography wasn’t for the faint of heart or wallet. Especially not if you wanted to do the job right.
Canvas, stretchers, presses, computers, printers, screens, backdrops, props—they took up a lot of room and were costly investments, but she couldn’t do the job without them.
When she had a camera in her hand, something inside her changed. She wasn’t the abused little girl she’d once been, and she wasn’t Clive Wallace’s trophy to be shown like he’d created her or cultivated her talent himself. The camera was hers and hers alone.
And as the days and weeks went by, she found herself out in the community, capturing the lives of the people she’d always observed as an outsider—smiles and tears, joy and sorrow, hope and desperation—it was life. And Surrender was teeming with it.
Beckett had stayed true to his word. He kept asking. And she kept saying no, reminding herself each time of the scene with Hazel. She couldn’t let herself get involved in another relationship. She’d felt repression at the hands of her father and her lover, and she’d promised herself she’d never let anyone have that kind of control o
ver her again. That kind of power. But Beckett was starting to wear on her.
It had started the day after their initial meeting, the same morning she’d been paid a visit from Hazel. She’d been in the back, going over paint samples with Grant, when there’d been a knock at the door. Her head had been pounding after the scene with Hazel, and she wasn’t in the mood for visitors.
She knew there was going to be gossip when she returned to Surrender. She’d expected it. But she’d be lying if she said it didn’t bother her that they were talking about her down at Duffey’s. That Hazel’s brother had called her common trash. Words hurt. No matter how thick your skin. It was how one reacted to them that mattered. But sometimes she wondered how strong she really was. What her breaking point was. Harley had never been able to break her, no matter how bad the beating. But sometimes she wished he had.
It wasn’t like she’d gone to a lot of trouble to keep her gift a secret over the last decade or so. Not when she’d been helping the police in such a public manner. But it still stung to walk down the street and have people avoid her gaze or walk in the opposite direction—like she was going to chase them down and list all their sins out in public. It was almost comical. It would’ve been if it hadn’t hurt so much.
The delivery boy on the other side of the door must’ve heard the gossip too, because he looked at her like she was a ghost and practically shoved the basket into her hands as soon as she opened the door.
“I’ve got a delivery for you, Miss Whitlock.” He swallowed once and took a step back.
“Thank you,” she said, and dug in her pocket for the crumpled ones she’d shoved in there after buying a drink from the mercantile that morning. She handed the money to him and he ran off back to the bakery.
There was a little note attached to the basket that said, “I’m just being neighborly.” He didn’t sign his name, but she found herself smiling anyway.