by Mary Calmes
“But that’s not what we’re talking about.”
“No.”
“The illusion of power won’t work for you.”
“No. It has to be real.”
“Okay, go on.”
“So this guy, he starts manhandling me and shoving me forward like he’s gonna belt me onto this St. Andrews’s Cross, and I’m thinking—yeah, he’ll have to have all those buckles and shit to keep me from moving. And there’s probably real ones that I couldn’t get out of. But I can see that it’s not riveted, so I can pull out the carpenter nails easy, flip it, do something. That wouldn’t hold me.”
That’s what Ian did, he analyzed everything.
“But I started thinking: it would take time for me to get out once he has me in it, and he can do whatever he wants in the meantime.”
“Yes.”
“And that’s the part I can’t have. No stranger puts their hands on me, that’s ingrained too deep.”
“You take women home from bars, Ian. They’re strangers and you fuck them.”
“Yeah, but I know names, and none of them could hurt me,” he explained. “Plus, I never sleep with any of them. I drive them home right after.”
“Emma slept over.”
“Because that lasted more than one night. And she hated sleeping over because she was afraid of Chickie.”
I smiled and he grinned back.
“Tell me about the Dom.”
“Well, so I gave him the go ahead to hurt me if he needed to, whatever he has to do to incapacitate me, right? He’s supposed to make me submit.”
Oh God. I was terrified to imagine what Ian had done. He wasn’t known for his patience. “You didn’t kill him accidentally, did you?”
He leaned over, hands on either side of my head on the mattress. “I put him in a sleeper hold and he passed out.”
I reached up and put my hands on each side of his neck. “You’re not supposed to hurt your Dom, Ian.”
“I didn’t hurt him,” he said hoarsely, swallowing fast as I smoothed my hands down his chest to his stomach, stroking gently until I reached his hard arching shaft. “And I paid him for his time.”
“I thought there was a safeword.”
“Yeah, I know, but I forgot it.”
“How do you forget the safeword?”
He shrugged.
“You didn’t think you’d need it, that’s why.”
“Probably.”
Only Ian.
“So,” I said, toppling him over, shoving him onto his back, grabbing the lube beside me. “Tell me what you learned from all that?” I notched against him, my dick sliding over his crease. “Ian?” I asked as I flipped the cap and squeezed lube over his cock.
“What’re you—”
“Tell me,” I insisted, coating his cock and my fingers at the same time before snapping the tube shut and tossing it out of our way. “What conclusion did you come to?”
He drove himself into my slippery fist, mouth open, eyes closed, letting his head tip sideways. He pressed his temple against my forehead when I leaned down.
“Ian,” I coaxed gently, sucking his earlobe into my mouth.
“Isn’t it…. Miro,” he pleaded, “I know you know.”
“But you can’t skimp on the words this time, you gotta say it.”
He inhaled sharply. “I want to be held down by someone who could actually hurt me—”
“And?” I pried, needing more from him because it was important, because it would ground both of us.
“—but never would.”
It was me, only me, and we both knew it. The only person in the world he was completely himself with, whom he trusted implicitly, was the one in bed with him. “I would never hurt you,” I promised, placing his hand on his cock before I pulled away just enough so I could smear the excess lube on mine. “And you know that.”
“I do.”
He was safe with me, and no one else could make him feel that way because I had nurtured this relationship for the past three years, as had he. “You have to be honest.”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” I said, pressing two slick fingers to his entrance. “Tell me if you’re sore.”
“I’m good.”
Entering slowly, I twisted and pushed, rubbing circles until his muscles softened and gave, kissing down the side of his neck.
“You’re not giving your dick any attention,” I reminded him.
“What’re you gonna do?”
“If it won’t hurt you, I wanna fuck you like this.”
Deep sigh from him. “Yeah, do that.”
Slipping my fingers free, I notched against his entrance and then slid steadily forward.
“Miro.” My name in his throaty whisper sent stinging heat through me, and I forgot the careful and the slow and shoved in in one long smooth glide.
The noise he made was a moan and a cry wrapped up together. It terrified me. “Ian?”
“It feels like that every time?”
The awe in his voice restarted my heart. “Yes,” I answered, slipping out only to ram back in, making sure he felt every motion of my cock grinding over his gland.
“Fuck!”
I pumped in and out, lifting his leg and holding his quivering thigh in my hand.
“Kiss me.” I snapped out the command, and he strained to sit up enough that I could devour his mouth.
He broke the kiss for breath, and when he did, I pulled out. His yell surprised me, and when I moved to the edge of the bed, he tackled me, crossing my wrists over my head and holding me down with one hand, the other on my chest.
“Why would you stop?”
“Put one foot on the floor,” I directed, “and then lower yourself down on top of me. You’re strong enough, you can do that.”
He nodded, doing as I said, braced himself over me, one hand buried in my hair, the other at my side as he held me there before I shoved up inside him.
“God, Miro, I’m so full.”
“It’s different with this angle,” I said, hands on his thighs, holding him tight as I slid out and then pistoned up into him.
His mouth fell open and there was no sound, only him obviously feeling, panting, the sensations overwhelming as I did it again and again, not stopping, wanting only to be inside him. I was lost in the action—nothing else mattered.
“Miro!”
He spurted over my chest and abdomen, and I pulled him down, impaling him on my cock as I came deep inside his body seconds later.
I checked out for long minutes, the white that exploded behind my eyes not easy to simply climb out of. Like always, though, once I became aware of where I was, I felt the weight of his stare. The deep, dark blue was really something to see.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said as I realized that unless he moved, I couldn’t.
“I need to clean you up.”
“Let’s take a shower, change, and go get our witness.”
“No nap?” I whined without meaning to.
“No nap,” he said, curling over me. “But I’ll feed ya.” Again he lifted my arms above my head, this time each wrist pinned to the mattress as he hovered close. “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said, unable to control my grin.
“We’re gonna have to talk at some point.”
“About?” I asked, almost gasping as the muscles in his ass flexed, sending a twinge of pain along my oversensitized nerve endings. Softening inside of him sounded hot, but it was actually uncomfortable.
“This, obviously.”
I stared up at him and noticed his red, swollen lips, hooded eyes, and the marks all over him. No way to miss that he’d been ravaged. “Like what?”
“Like,” he replied, tightening his hands on my wrists, his thighs around my hips. “Will we do this when we get home?”
He posed the question, at the same time testing if I’d let him hold me down. In answe
r, I yanked my right arm out of his grip, and before he could grab me again, I dropped my left foot onto the floor and kicked off, giving me enough momentum and leverage to roll him to his back and pin him beneath me. The entire maneuver was fast, jarring, and most of all, forceful. I didn’t miss his sharp inhale.
“I want to,” I answered before dropping down beside him and drawing him to me, sliding his leg over my hip so we were plastered together, joined everywhere. “But we don’t need to say it right this second.”
“I think we do.”
Oh. “Do you? Want to?”
“Where would we be?” he casually asked instead of answering, even though his eyes betrayed him, flickering with concern, searching mine.
I knew him, his tells. He was waiting for any hesitation from me. I barreled forward instead. “You could hang with me at my place whenever you want, and bring Chickie. You already have a key.”
“Yeah,” he agreed thoughtfully.
“And I could sleep over at your place once I get my hazmat suit back from the dry cleaner.”
His brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I grinned slowly. I had successfully restored normalcy and balance.
“It’s not that bad.”
“Janet and Catherine went over there to check your mail, and Cat said she wasn’t going back without making sure her shots were up to date.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Janet said that if I’d let her take my gun, she’d go back.”
“Knock it off.” He chuckled, letting his head fall back when I bumped his chin with my nose. Ian was more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, vulnerable as he lay in my arms.
I pressed a kiss to his throat.
“You’d stay there, right?”
I would sleep wherever he liked for as long as he let me. “Yeah.” I just wanted to be in his bed.
He traced over the two newest scars on my body. “Don’t do this again.”
“I’ll try.”
“Try harder.”
“Yessir.”
WE STOPPED for a late lunch at a pancake place, badges out and strapped for the duration of the trip. I ate like it was my last meal. I was so hungry and between the coffee, orange juice, and water, the waitress wasn’t sure what other liquid I could possibly need.
Ian had coffee and water and watched me hoover up pancakes and sausage, eggs, hash browns, and grits as he wolfed down steak and eggs. I paid like I always did on Fridays, as we had every day of the week accounted for and it was the only way for meals to not devolve into arguments. It used to be both of us trying to treat the other, which got old fast. Our system worked better.
After hitting the bathroom, I met Ian in the lobby, and as I yawned, shoving my coat at him while I put on my hat, two state troopers stepped in front of us. A third was hanging back.
“Help you?” Ian asked.
The trooper tipped his head at the gun holstered on my belt.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, smiling, lifting my sweater so he could see the star on the other side. “We’re marshals. My ID’s in my coat right there.”
He let out a breath, and his smile was instant as the two others joined us. “Your waitress saw the guns when you were getting up.”
“’Course,” I said with a shrug. “You gotta check.”
He gave me a friendly nod before Ian grabbed my bicep, grunted a good-bye, and tugged me after him.
“What’s wrong with you?” I teased once we were outside. I pulled on my coat. It was freezing. “You gotta be nice to local law enforcement.”
“Why?”
“In case we need them.”
The look on his face showed me exactly what he thought of that, and it wasn’t much. “This isn’t even where we need to be, M.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Just come on.”
Once at the car, I put my fist above my palm in the international sign for rock-paper-scissors.
“I always drive,” he informed me.
“Yeah, but,” I began, unable to keep from grinning, “it might be easier for you to get comfortable if—”
“Get in the car,” he barked.
I tried to stifle my laughter.
“Now,” he growled, getting in and slamming the door.
Once inside, I turned to him.
“Navigate already, will you?”
I pulled my phone from the breast pocket of my coat.
“Isn’t that the peacoat you made me buy?”
“Yeah.”
“So it’s mine, but you’re wearing it.”
“Yeah,” I grunted, checking the directions. “Okay, so you’re gonna go out here and head south. You’re looking for 394 to—what?”
He was waiting.
“Ian?”
Taking hold of the wool and cashmere coat, he tugged me close. “This is the weirdest blue, you know.”
“It looked good on you,” I said softly as he pulled the knit cap off my head. “You trying to let the cold get me?”
“In the car with the heater?” He snickered, easing me forward until his lips were a hairsbreadth from mine. “I think you’ll live.”
I sighed, so pleased that he couldn’t keep his hands or mouth off me. “You need to get us on the road.”
“Yeah,” he admitted, kissing me fast, biting my bottom lip, tugging it with his teeth a second, inhaling deep, before he let me go and turned all his attention to getting us out of the parking lot.
“That’s not fair,” I complained, my body thrumming with sudden need. And it wasn’t even sex anymore, though that was always welcome. It was more than that. I just wanted to be naked in bed with him.
“It’ll level off.”
“What’s that?”
“The hunger.”
“We just ate,” I reminded him.
“I’m not talking about food and you know it.”
I did, but I wanted to hear him say it. “If you’re doing it right, it shouldn’t.”
He shook his head. “There’s no way to contain that level of desire for—” His breath hitched when I grabbed his thigh and squeezed tight.
“Listen,” I said seriously, meeting his gaze. “Don’t speak so authoritatively about things you know nothing about.”
His attention focused completely on me.
“Neither one of us has ever been in this exact place before.”
He gave me a quick nod.
“So knock it off.”
He didn’t agree, but he didn’t argue either, which I took as a win. Moments later he turned his attention from me to driving the car.
“Level of desire, huh?”
“Shut up.”
I smiled. “Hurry up and get us out of the parking lot, Doyle. I’m e-mailing the boss with status.”
He said nothing, just took a left out onto the street, merged too quickly, and headed for Bristol Highway by way of 394.
“How long on this?”
“Like five and a half miles,” I said absently.
I directed him onto other highways until we were finally on 19E heading for Elizabethton.
“There are a lot of Christmas-tree farms here,” Ian commented as we headed for the Carter County Sheriff’s office.
“Yep, trees and meth are both big business here.”
He laughed softly.
“Hey, do me a favor. When we get there, let me talk to them.”
“What?”
I grimaced. “You always end up pissing the local guys off.”
“I do not,” he argued.
“You do. And stop being so defensive.”
“That’s insane.”
But half an hour later when we had reached our destination and then gotten the run around, he was yelling.
“What the hell?” Ian barked at the deputy in front of us. “How do you release a goddamn federal witness?”
The sheriff was not in, but Chief Deputy Greg Walker was. It was the two of us and nine other men in the office. Ian was trying
to get a story out of Walker while I was on the phone with Kage.
“What do you mean they don’t have your witness?”
“Apparently he was released to the Bowman Police Department yesterday afternoon,” I replied.
“Why?”
“He wasn’t coded to be released into federal custody, but police custody.”
“How?” Kage asked irritably. “Are there even local police departments there? I thought there was only one centrally located sheriff’s department and then the state police.”
“I have no idea, but the town’s in Virginia, not Tennessee.”
“Virginia?”
“Yeah, so he’s in Bowman, which is in Lee County, Virginia. So maybe there, there’s a police department.”
“How big can Bowman be?”
“Not sure,” I answered, searching it on my phone at the same time I talked to him once I put him on speaker. “But it’s along US 58 right after Ewing.”
“How far is that from where you are?”
“Almost two hours.”
“What time is it there now, like four something?”
“Four thirty, yeah.”
“All right, so get to Bowman, make contact and get a room for the night. I need status twice more today.”
“Yessir.”
“How’s Doyle?”
“Sir?”
“He just got back, and I understand this last op went bad.”
It had? That was news. I didn’t usually ask how Ian’s missions went, because he wasn’t supposed to talk about them. But I was surprised that he hadn’t said a word to me about it in this case. “Oh, I dunno.”
“But he’s good?”
“He is.”
“All right. Give me status when you reach Bowman.”
“Yessir.”
Kage ended the call, and I looked up in time to see Walker pick up a phone. “You’re out of line, Marshal, and I’m gonna have your badge!”
Of course. During my minute-and-a-half conversation with Kage, Ian managed to piss off everyone in the room.
“You’ll be lucky to make it out of this with yours,” Ian snapped.
“Your ass is mine!”
Technically, his ass was spoken for.
Ian tipped his head and gave him a smirk. “Give it your best shot.”
Everyone was tense, no one moved, and I stood and waited as Walker called the sheriff.
“Sir, I have Deputy Marshal Doyle in front of—” Walker stopped and listened. “Supervisory Deputy?”