A rumble of humor sounded on the other side of the door. “You locked the doors? I can’t believe you locked the doors, Tavia. What did you hope to accomplish by that?” He laughed. “Don’t you realize that a guy like me could have them down with one kick?”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Tavia backed away from the glossy red doors as her eyes narrowed in apprehension.
“Of course I wouldn’t,” he soothed in a gruff voice. Then it got quiet.
With her head cocked to one side and her ears scanning for any sound, she held her breath as she listened to Bolt’s long stride taking him down the hall. Silence followed. Enough silence that she finally decided she was safe. Slowly, she expelled a careful breath as she sank onto the white bedspread quilted with red stitches.
Seconds later, she was holding her breath again as she heard a series of faint tapping sounds. Then a few soft thumping sounds. The next thing she saw was Bolt, standing in the frame of her doorway, lifting the double doors aside. He smiled at her. “The doors open outward,” he told her smugly.
He set the wide, double doors against the wall behind him. When he turned, he was swinging a hammer in one hand. He’d used the hammer and a nail to tap out the pins on the doors’ brass fittings. Strolling into the room, he slid the tools onto her shabby-chic white-painted dresser that stood against the wall just inside the doorway. Then he folded his arms over his wide chest as he regarded her quietly.
With a curse of exasperation, Tavia made for the bathroom.
“That door opens outward too,” he warned her as she slammed the door behind her.
Tavia pressed her shoulder against the bathroom door. “Please, Bolt. Just…just leave me alone, okay?”
“Where are the shoes?” he asked from the bedroom.
“Shoes?”
“You promised you’d wear them. Aren’t you going to keep your promise?”
“Yes,” she moaned. “Of course.”
“Good,” he answered. “Where are they?”
“I’m not sure. In the closet. Try the green and silver box. Listen, Bolt. If I wear the shoes will you let me go?”
As Tavia frowned at her troubled reflection in the bathroom mirror, she heard a single, heavy thunk. She froze, listening. Two seconds later she heard another muffled crash. Grabbing the door open, she rushed out of the bathroom to find Bolt on his knees at the end of the bed.
“Are you all right?” she asked breathlessly, trying to decide if a man falling to his knees would make that much noise. “Did you fall?”
He gave her a slow, sensuous smile. “I found the shoes.”
She returned his smile warily.
“Let me help you get them on,” he told her. “Come here,” he commanded her firmly. “Sit down.”
Tavia clenched her teeth. “Bolt,” she gritted, “if I wear the shoes—”
“Come here,” he repeated in iron tones.
Tavia left her navy pumps beside the bathroom door and crept toward him in her bare feet. Squeezing between the kneeling man and the hand-stitched bedspread, she sat down on the end of the bed and slipped her right foot into one of the black, patent leather high heels. As she watched, Bolt pulled the wide strap around her ankle, fumbling to close the buckle with his thick fingers. When Tavia reached out her toe for the other shoe, she felt Bolt’s big hand wrap around her ankle as he guided her foot to the pump three feet distant. When he’d finished buckling her left foot into the black ankle-straps, Tavia automatically moved to pull her legs together.
That’s when she realized the shoes were nailed to the floor.
Chapter Four
Bolt knelt between her spread knees. The smile that curved his rugged mouth was just about as sinfully evil as a smugly horrible man could reasonably pull off.
“Bolt!” she yelled. “What the hell! What do you think you’re doing?”
There was a supercilious glint behind the golden fire in his eyes. “I’m just giving you permission, baby doll.”
“Permission? Permission to what?”
“Permission to spread your legs a bit,” he told her in a low, intimate murmur. Catching the side of her neck with his big hand, he nudged his lips against her cheek. “Permission to be a bit of a slut. Every woman needs permission,” he explained.
“Are you crazy? I don’t need your permission to…”
His eyebrow arched upward. “To what?”
“I’m not a slut,” she told him flat out.
He gave her a warm, sultry smile. “Of course you’re not. That’s why you’re nailed to the floor.”
“I’m nailed to the floor,” she whispered, as the full extent of his actions finally hit her. “You nailed my shoes to the floor! Bolt! These shoes cost five hundred dollars!”
“Five hundred dollars? Really? Are you impressed?”
“Impressed with what?”
“Impressed by the fact that I have such good taste.” The hard, silken texture of his lips glided along her jawline. “If you can reach them, you can take them off. ‘Course I have no intention of letting you reach them, baby doll.”
Tavia moaned as her back arched and her neck stretched for the touch of his lips. His mouth left a frisson of heated, crackling awareness in its wake. “Why on earth do you insist on calling me baby doll?”
“Why not?” he countered. “You’re all…dimples. And when you’re six-six,” he went on, “even a tall woman’s a baby doll.” He put a hand in the middle of her chest. “Now lie down like a good little slut while I check out your pussy.” With those words he pushed her onto her back. Immediately, Tavia struggled to sit up again but his large hand pinned her to the bed. “I’ll tie you down if I have to,” he warned her with a whispering growl.
Tavia was ready to scream with frustration. She’d never come across a more patently aggravating man. He was sneaky, manipulative and as crafty as demon spawn. Using illogical arguments and dirty tricks, he’d managed to get her spread open at the end of her bed with her feet pinned to the floor. She opened her mouth to darken his name with curses—but stilled when his hands curled around her ankles.
She wanted it and he knew it. She wanted him, even if he was the most maddening man on the face of the earth. It sounded cliché, but her chest was heaving—heaving before her eyes, rising and falling in eager waves as she watched Bolt kneeling between her legs.
She felt his hands travel slowly from her ankles to her knees. Felt the cool air on her calves and knew the skirt of her filmy dress was surfing up her legs under the glide of those large, masculine hands. With lowered eyes, she watched the frothing folds of her dress travel slowly up her hips at the same time she felt his hands sweep to the outside of her thighs.
“Tavia!” he murmured. “You’re…wearing underpants.” He began to chuckle. “Oh, you are so screwed,” he advised her in a deep, provocative growl.
“What do you mean?” she asked him breathlessly.
“I mean—that the next time I ask you to wear these shoes, you’d better get rid of your panties first.”
“The next time you— Why?”
He leaned over and pressed a kiss into the fabric that stretched across her belly. “Because your feet are nailed to the floor, sweetheart. And that means this underwear isn’t coming off any time soon.”
“But couldn’t we just—”
“Sorry, Tavia. It’s too late now. We’re just going to have to work around the situation.”
Still kneeling between her legs, Bolt settled his large hands on her inner thighs and urged her legs apart. She held her breath as his palms pressured her already stretched thighs even wider while his rough, calloused fingers moved slowly toward the apex of her legs. Before they reached the warm crease at the top of her thighs, she saw his head dip and felt his breath warming her mound. Her back arched and her eyes rolled back in her head as waves of humid heat washed over her pussy. Anticipation had her riding a razor-edge of passionate need as every muscle in her body tightened. When he finally graced her with the smooth touch of his mouth—fu
ll, soft and heated against the silk stretched over her pussy—Tavia choked back a tiny, telling, little sob.
Bolt breathed out a low, masculine sound of pleasure. He clucked his tongue and it smacked between her legs gently. “Red,” he muttered against the heated silk. “Bright red panties with a blue dress. Who’d you wear the panties for, Tavia?”
The room was silent except for Tavia’s soughing breath.
Bolt nudged his hot mouth against her pouting labia, bathing her silk-clad pussy with his warm breath. “Who’d you wear the panties for, Tavia? And you’d better not tell me Alex.”
Tavia swallowed hard. “I didn’t…wear them for anybody.”
“Aw, now you’re just hurting my feelings.” His mouth opened along her slot and when he closed it, he nipped at her plump labia. He pressed the flesh firmly between his blunt teeth then opened his mouth and stroked his lips across the damp silk of her panties. The tip of his tongue crept through the seam of her sex, intruding between her hungry lips as far as her filmy underwear would allow. “Tell me who you wore the panties for, Tavia.”
When she didn’t answer again, she saw his head tilt between her legs. She almost jumped when his tongue slid inside the elastic leg of her panties, lapping gently but insistently at the naked flesh of her outer labia, tugging at her thickened lips, encouraging them to part a breathless half-inch. As his tongue slid out of her panties, her flesh closed again over the folds of her sex. Then she felt the firm press of his thumbs in the crease between her legs, stretching her open on either side of her long slit. With both thumbs pulling her sex wide, Bolt drew his flattened tongue up the hot silk stretched over her open pussy.
The fine fabric of her underwear was wet and steamy as he opened his mouth over the red silk and settled his tongue over her clitoris. He gave her hungry clit a long, leisurely lick. “Tell me who you wore the panties for.”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “You,” she said in a short, quiet word.
“What was that?”
“You,” she shouted. “I wore the red panties for you!”
“Thought so,” he drawled. “Too bad I don’t like underwear on a woman.”
She snorted. The sound was a little bit of amusement mixed up with a lot of frustration.
“I’ll let it go this time,” he advised her. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
“Again?”
Leaning over her, he reached for the buttons of her dress, smiling into her wide-eyed gaze as his long fingers fumbled the buttons open—all the way from the scooping neckline right down to the rumpled hem. Then he spread the dress apart. Like a lick of liquid flame, his gaze traveled down her exposed body then returned to the heaving mounds of her breasts, crammed into the full cups of her red lace bra. His hands smoothed up her midriff until he held the sides of her breasts in the cradle of his large palms. Automatically Tavia arched on the bed, pressing her lips together as Bolt handled her tits with murmuring appreciation. His voice was rough-soft as he expressed his devotion in quiet, rumbling bursts of sound. His thumbs brushed across the cups, the calloused pads catching on the fancy lace of the brassiere. When he leaned forward, his bared abdomen came into warm contact with her open pussy. His skin pressed against the slick silk. “More underwear,” he complained in a taunting grumble. “Are the snaps in the back?”
“Bolt?”
“The snaps to your bra. Are they in the back?”
“I think so,” she breathed.
“That’s inconvenient.” Delving with his fingers into the large cups of her bra, he tugged her breasts out of the red lace.
From beneath her half-closed eyelids, Tavia watched him expose her nipples as he shoved the frilly fabric under the heavy mounds of her breasts. Her bra was still fastened in the back and the wadded material was tight beneath her chest, lifting her breasts while squeezing them together.
With his thumbs riding over her nipples, his hands collected the heavy sides of her breasts into his palms. “Fuck,” Bolt whispered. “These are perfect. I’d like to get my dick between these beauties on a hot day.”
“On a hot day?”
“On a hot day.” His voice was gravelly with lust. “When it’s all damp and sweaty between your breasts. I’d like to fuck your tits and watch my cum wash into your cleavage. I’d like to use my dick to spread it over your nipples.”
Tavia choked back a moaning expression of need. She ached at the thought of him thrusting between her breasts, his cum spitting from his cock head in hot surges, spattering onto her skin, coating her breasts as he rubbed his heavy, wet shaft over her needy nipples. Jeez, she wanted him. Her pussy was primed, burning with wet heat, aching to have him wrapped up inside her, banging into her and flogging the back of her cervix with the punishing knot of his cock head.
As his thumbs rubbed over the rough, pebbled surface of her nipples, Tavia whimpered out a shivering murmur of arousal. Between her legs, the ridge of his cloth-covered shaft slid against the plump cushion of her labia. As Bolt rocked against her pussy, the thick girth of his erection slowly worked a groove between her soft, slick lips. Tavia twisted on the bed. So close—he was so close, but not goddamn close enough.
Planting his hands on either side of her chest, Bolt levered himself upward, continuing to thrust between her legs while he lowered his mouth to her nipples. His mouth was hot as he drew the hard silk of his lips over the puffy tips of her breasts. Then he turned his face and dragged the stubbled steel of his jaw over the same eager flesh. With a rough, wet tongue, he circled her areola languidly then sucked her in suddenly, drawing the whole of her full, pink areola deeply into his mouth. When the heat and suction finally diminished, her nipple was caught in the firm grip of his teeth. He held the small bud in the blunt clamp of his incisors as he lashed the captured tip with his tongue.
The sensation was utterly, deliciously evocative and a hot line of desire burned from the tips of her breasts to the deepest place in her cunt where she longed for him with a dark, insistent hunger unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She wanted him. She needed his breath, hot between her legs, pelting her wet flesh as he pulled her labia open with his fingers. She wanted him to touch her with rough intimacy. She wanted the abrasive pad of his fingertip brushing across her clit. She wanted him to play with her sex, to tease her and taunt her and take her to the edge of madness. Then she wanted him to fuck her.
She wanted him to rise over her, his weight pinning her to the bed, his skin rubbing in a hot, male slide against hers, the light hair on his chest teasing her nipples into tight knots of anguish. She wanted him to fuck her hard. Break her open with ecstasy as he plowed into her, stretching the delicate pink of her vulva and slamming into the back of her cunt.
But those damn red panties were stretched between her legs, standing in the way of everything she wanted. With another small whimper, Tavia wondered if it was too soon to start pleading. She’d never begged for a man before. She’d never begged a man to fuck her. But then, she’d never felt like this, swamped in an aching need that lashed her body with sexual urgency and urged her to spread her thighs for the man between her legs. Spread her sex and open her pussy for the rapine touch of his fingers and the brutal caress of his cock.
Rising to his feet, Bolt hooked his thumbs in the top of the sweatpants and pushed them down his muscular thighs. His erection swung free like a huge, hungry beast, long and heavy and dark. The wide girth of his shaft was flattened along the top, giving his cock a sinfully serpentine appearance. The thin skin was stretched smooth and tight over dark veins that wrapped his length. The top of his shaft was capped by the heavy slug of his cock head, healthy and fat, engorged with lusty blood. Enthralled, Tavia watched a glimmering pearl of moisture ooze from the small creased opening in his cock head.
She licked her lips as Bolt curled his fingers around the broad root of his shaft, his eyes narrowed on the space between her legs. Falling over her, he rested his weight on his elbows.
She felt the thick, f
at width of his cock head pressing against her silk-covered opening. Like a huge, blundering animal, his blunt tip surged against her barred entrance as his hips flexed and he thrust his sex at her again and again.
“Damn panties,” he growled between harsh breaths. “They’re always getting in the way. I don’t know why women wear them.”
Tavia moaned as he pounded the rounded head of his cock into the silk of her underpants. Each harsh, feral rip of his hips took him a little deeper into her vagina, but not far enough. Never far enough. It was never going to be far enough. She needed more. More of him. More of that thickly veined cock deep inside her.
“Bolt,” she finally wailed. “Don’t you think those panties would come off if you gave them a good tug?”
He grunted in response. “I don’t want to ruin a perfectly good pair of red panties that you wore for me.”
She blew out a tight scream of frustration. “The panties cost seventeen-fifty. You didn’t mind nailing my five hundred dollar shoes to the floor! Do me a favor, Bolt, and rip the damn panties.”
The mean, thick head of his cock pounded temptingly at her entrance. “Sorry,” he panted with an evil smile. “I don’t do underpants. If a woman wants my cock, I reckon the least she can do is bare her pussy for me.”
“Bolt,” she tried hesitantly, “what if I told you I didn’t wear these panties for you?”
He stilled. “You don’t want to get me mad, Tavia.”
She knew she was whining. “But if you got mad, maybe you’d tear them off.”
He shook his head. “You don’t want to get me mad, Tavia.”
“Bolt,” she shouted. “This isn’t working.”
“It’s working for me,” he told her. “A few more strokes and I’m going to come all over the front of these underpants you’re wearing.”
“Well, it isn’t going to work for me!”
“You should have thought of that sooner. What are you doing?”
With her thumbs hooked into the tops of her panties, Tavia worked the sweat-dampened silk down her sides as far as she could reach. With a certain amount of desperate wriggling, she managed to get the damn things over her hips and under her bottom. But the panties refused to go farther. The elastic waistband bit into the flesh of her open thighs and would go no farther. The scarlet barrier was now a thin, tight, highly annoying roadblock, caught just below her sex, wrenching into the flesh of her thighs.
Miss October Page 4