by Measha Stone
He didn’t let go, he gripped her ass cheeks hard, pinching them with his nails as he drove his cock into her over and over again. Hot, tight flesh gripped him. The plug from her tail made the passage even smaller.
“J-john.” She started to push up, to try to find a comfortable position, but there wouldn’t be one. This had nothing to do with her. He didn’t give a shit if she felt any enjoyment out of it. He would take her cunt because it belonged to him. She belonged to him.
“Take it, Julie. Every fucking inch of it,” he demanded, prying her ass cheeks apart just a hair more.
“It burns, John. Too much.” She waved her hand behind her, trying to swat him away. No such luck.
“Do you have a say in where I put my cock?”
“No!” she cried out, finding his hand and gripping it with her own. “No, I don’t.”
“Do you get to say no if I want to fuck every hole you have?” he asked, lifting his pinky and wrapping it around hers.
“No! I don’t. Oh, fuck.” She bent her head forward. Her breasts swayed with each hard thrust.
“If I pull out this plug and fuck your ass, what do you do?” He lightly touched the plug with a finger.
“Nothing. I take it.” Her pussy clenched around his cock. “Every fucking inch.” She repeated his words.
“Yes, that’s right.” He drove into her once, twice, then stilled as every nerve ending in his body came alive and his release swept his mind away. “Fuck. Fuck,” he heard himself chanting.
“Oh, god,” she whispered and released his hand, collapsing down onto the spanking bench, her arms dangling at her sides.
She hadn’t come. He would have felt it, but she looked like she’d just experienced the same utopia as him.
After pulling out of her and quickly cleaning them both up, he brushed the hair from her face. Her eyes were closed; her dark lashes pressed against her creamy skin, damp.
“Julie?” He squatted in front of her, waiting for her to come back to him. When she opened her lids, her eyes, glossy from both tears and the high he’d given her, he smiled. “There you are.” He brushed his fingertips across her cheek. “My pretty kitten.”
She smiled, though it didn’t extend across her whole mouth. Her cheek was still pressed against the bench, scrunching up around her, giving her a half drunken look.
“I’m gonna take out the plug now and take you up to bed. Okay?”
“Yeah.” She yawned and licked her lips. “Sounds really, really good.”
He shook his head and laughed. He’d seen women fly off into subspace before, and he’d probably be more thrilled about it if he hadn’t been trying to punish her. He would have to cross off punishment fucks as an effective method of chastisement.
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
She closed her eyes again. “No, but I’m cold.”
“Okay.” He patted her head. He removed the plug, doubting she even realized it happened, and found a blanket in one of the drawers of the bench. Blake had everything in his little playroom. Though why he left it all up in the woods instead of in the city where he and his fiancée lived made no sense.
John wrapped her in the fleece blanket and lifted her up in his arms. Her head rolled against his shoulder as he walked from the room and headed up to the second floor.
“You weren’t supposed to enjoy that so much,” he muttered to himself as he brought her into the bedroom and placed her on the bed.
“You weren’t supposed to be so amazing.”
She yawned and rolled over, uncovering herself and exposing her bottom. The strapping had been hard, but none of the licks left a lasting mark. He must have gone easier on her than he thought.
He pulled the comforter down from beneath her body and pulled it back up to her chin. Standing over her for several long minutes, he thought about what she’d said. She hadn’t expected him to be so amazing? He’d stripped her, made her crawl, forced her to wear a tail, drink from a bowl, beg with drool hanging from her mouth, and strapped her. The woman should hate him. Shouldn’t she?
She thought he was amazing.
She wasn’t so bad herself.
Chapter Eighteen
Julie walked down the stairs, following the sound of John’s voice.
She’d woken up alone in the large four-poster bed, but it appeared he’d slept at her side. The blankets were thrown back on the other side. Her body ached and hummed with each movement. Taking a hot shower before searching him out had been just the thing. Her muscles relaxed from the heat, but still a residual soreness lingered. Especially where he’d strapped her and fucked her.
She’d hit subspace before and knew it for what it was when it happened, but experiencing it during a fucking was new. The searing pain of the strap had been unlike anything she’d felt before, and when he’d stretched her ass cheeks apart and plowed into her, it was like something inside of her snapped. She’d soared.
She remembered him carrying her upstairs, along with his soft voice and his heavy arms around her body, but as for what words were exchanged, it blurred together.
She took another step down and paused, listening to him.
He was singing.
And not very well.
Music played in the background as he sang along with the radio.
She found him in the kitchen, moving along with the melody of one of the country hits playing. Leaning against the doorframe, she cleared her throat and laughed when he froze. His back muscles tightened and slowly, he turned to face her.
“You’re into country music? Wouldn’t have guessed it.” She made her way to the stovetop to see what he’d been cooking. Oatmeal. Blech.
“It’s the only station I could get clear.” He grabbed the pot from the stove. “Don’t make that face. There isn’t much up here in the way of food. We can go to the store after breakfast.”
“You knew all the words,” she pointed out to him then hopped up on the counter. He grabbed two bowls from a cabinet and scooped the slop into them. “Any nuts or something to make it not so, well, mushy?”
“Check the pantry.” He pointed the spoon at a narrow door across the kitchen.
“Your boy toy called you, by the way. He said he’ll call you back this morning.”
Did she hear jealousy?
“He’s just a friend, John.” She hid her smile by ducking into the pantry and scouting out some pecans and honey.
“A friend who plays with you. Sees you naked and touches you.”
“We’ve never slept together,” she pointed out and unscrewed the lid from the honey.
“That doesn’t make it much better,” he mumbled to himself and brought the pot to the sink. The water turned on, and he had his back to her as he cleaned the pot.
“Are you jealous?” she asked after a long stretch of silence passed and he still didn’t turn to face her.
“Jealous?” He shut off the water. “I don’t want you seeing him anymore.”
“I don’t think you get to really have a say in that.” She swallowed back the lump in her throat after letting the bullshit line escape.
“Hmm.” He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and threw it on the counter. Stepping forward, he trapped her against the kitchen island, caging her with his hands. “I think I do. I think you want me to, too.”
Her face heated, a slow creeping heat that started at the base of her neck and slowly took over her entire face.
“Now isn’t exactly the time—”
He covered her mouth with one hand. She inhaled deeply through her nose, her eyes searching his. Soft eyes looked back at her.
“Now is a very fucked-up time, I get that. But we didn’t meet because of your mom. We met before, and I wanted more from you than you could give at the time, but now—now that I’ve had you, now that I have you right here in front of me.” He loosened his grip but didn’t release her. “I don’t want to let you go. I. don’t. want. You. Seeing. Him.”
She had no intentions of seeing Jim
my anymore, even before he went all caveman on her, but she would keep that to herself. For now, at least.
He released her, stepping back and staring at her. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she smiled at him.
“I won’t. I won’t see him anymore. I promise.” She dragged the tips of her fingers in a cross over her chest.
“Good.” He nodded and went back to his bowl of oatmeal, snatching up the honey to sweeten it.
“And you? You won’t see anyone either?” she pressed.
“Of course not.”
“Don’t sound so damn growly. I’m just checking. This is a very weird way to start out a relationship. I mean, if that’s what this is. Will be.” She stumbled over the words.
“Once this is all settled, we’ll work it all out,” he promised, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “I like this color on you.” He picked at the fabric of the coral tee he’d left out for her to wear with a pair of jeans.
A cell phone buzzed on the counter near the stove, and he reached behind to grab it.
He snorted. “Your boy toy.” He handed her the phone.
Surprised he wanted her to answer, she swiped to accept and put him on speaker. John nodded, probably pleased he hadn’t had to tell her.
“Hey, babe,” Jimmy said. Babe?
“Uh, hi. What’s up?” She shrugged at John’s questioning expression. He probably didn’t like Jimmy calling her babe after staking his claim only moments before.
“Julie, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, where you at?”
“Out. Why?” She picked up the phone, holding it closer to her mouth.
“Heard you got hurt last weekend, just wanted to be sure you’re ok. Is someone taking care of you?” He threw the question on at the end, like he remembered he was supposed to ask.
John shook his head.
“I’m fine. Just a little bump.”
“Uh, head stuff can be dangerous. You have it looked at?” The question wasn’t natural, like he was trying to lead her to an answer he wanted. Except Jimmy didn’t know her well enough to lead her to give anything. Unless she was strapped down and he was leading her to having a fun time beneath his flogger, he couldn’t know what to do.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” The burns on her arm were healing quickly, even with the sparing use of the ointment.
“Good. Good.” He took in a long breath. “Uh, you wanna play tomorrow? Meet up at the dungeon? Say, uh, eleven?”
She went to answer, already shaking her head no but John put his hand over the phone, drawing her attention to him.
He nodded. “Say yes,” he whispered.
Julie searched his face. Obviously, he had some inkling as to what was going on with the call; perhaps he would let her know, too.
Brushing his hand away, she answered Jimmy. “Uh, sure. Eleven.”
“Great. I’ll see you then. Eleven, by the bar, like usual, babe. Have my drink ready for me, straight bourbon. Got it?” A hard edge hit the last word.
“Yeah. I got it. Your usual, at the bar.”
“Good girl,” he said and ended the call.
Julie put the phone back down on the table. “That was wrong.”
“How so?”
“He didn’t sound like himself.” She pointed at the phone. “Why’d you have me say yes to meeting him?”
“What else sounded off to you?” he asked, swiping up the phone and scrolling through the contact list.
“Just the way he talked. He called me babe, that’s not like him. And the last part. We never meet at the bar, and he doesn’t have a usual drink.”
“Maybe the bartender knows it?”
“No, he’s a recovered alcoholic, John. He doesn’t even kiss a girl if she’s been drinking.”
John put the phone back down on the table. “He was fishing around to see if I’m with you. He didn’t ask for me, but he wanted to know if you were being taken care of. And then he makes plans to bring you to the club.”
“But he has to know I’ll think it’s weird, especially the drink order.”
“Or he’s hoping you’ll pick up on it and stay clear. Maybe he’s warning you. Tommy’s using him to draw you out.”
Julie sat down at the table, her oatmeal too cold to touch now.
“So, what now?”
“We go. We’ll stay here for another day and then head back to the city. Thursday nights aren’t as busy as the weekend, but there’s still going to be plenty of people there. So, either he’s going to try to lure you out of the club, or Tommy will have someone stationed outside to nab you on your way in.”
Talking about her possible abduction didn’t seem to bother him very much. It was all very matter-of-fact and scientific to him.
“So, I’ll go and you’ll be hiding in the bushes to save me?” she asked.
“What? No. I haven’t figured that part out, yet. I’m going to call Chris to see if he’s come up with anything else connecting your mom to Tommy. Maybe if we know what that connection is, we can figure out what his next step is. Because you’ve already blown off the cops in giving a statement, so this has to be something more. Something that doesn’t just involve that meth lab.”
“Mom said she’d call today, right?” she said, laying her hand over her phone. Was her mom safe? Being caught up in all of this with these people who didn’t have any value on life had to be scaring her. Did she know how much danger she was in, how deep she’d dragged Julie into it with her?
“Yeah. But I’m not so sure she will. Not after the little highway incident. I’ll charge the phone and leave the volume up. I have to call Chris. Blake has satellite TV, I’m sure you can find something to watch and keep yourself occupied.”
She moved to her feet. “Occupied? Does that mean no target practice or highway shoot-outs?” She was going for humor, but the dark flash in his eyes told her she’d missed her mark. “I was kidding. Are you ever going to forgive me?” she asked, walking around the table and opening the pantry again. There had to be something more edible than oatmeal.
Macaroni and cheese, score!
When she turned back around, he was there, arms snagging around her and holding her tight to him.
“I’ve already done that. But when I think about how scared I got hearing those shots in the woods, how completely useless I was driving the fucking car while you hung out the back shooting at those assholes, it gets me riled up again. So, don’t bring it up. At least until I’m old and can’t remember those parts of it.”
“One day you’ll look back and laugh at it.” It wouldn’t be any day soon, and even if he did profess his claim on her, that didn’t mean they’d still be together when either of them was old and gray. Most likely him—she wouldn’t go quietly into the gray zone.
He kissed her forehead, taking the box of macaroni out of her hands. “This is horrible for you.” He shook the box and tossed it on the counter.
“It’s better than that mush you made.” She pointed at the oatmeal, which now had already started to harden.
“I’ll make this; you go find something to do that doesn’t involve a gun.”
“What fun is that?”
* * *
“You wanna go for a walk?” John asked from the doorway. Julie put down the book she’d been reading and nodded.
“Hell, yeah.” It would be good to stretch out her limbs. She hadn’t been on a walk in days and she could feel it. Not being much of an exerciser, she did enjoy the long walks she would take in the mornings before work.
“I think I saw a pair of Aubree’s shoes that would work for you. I’ll grab them.” John disappeared up the stairs to the bedrooms.
From the pictures on the walls, Julie figured Aubree was Blake’s girlfriend and they owned this house. Which also meant Kara couldn’t be too far away.
As soon as John came back, toting a pair of women’s walking shoes, she put the question to him.
“How far away is the resort? Maybe we can call Kara and meet up with her and Dev
in?” Julie took the shoes from him and sat on the edge of the couch to shimmy her feet into them.
“I don’t think so,” John said, picking up her discarded tennis shoes and taking them to the back door. He lined them up like perfect little soldiers. Nice and orderly. Exactly like him.
“Why not? She’s not far from here if I remember, she mentioned Blake being close by—and another girl, what’s her name… Addison?” She finished tying off the shoe and popped up to her full height. “We could use the distraction, don’t you think?” She could anyway. Her mother still hadn’t called and with Jimmy now finding a way to get wedged in the whole mess she could use something to take her mind off of it all. “Besides, I haven’t seen Kara in almost two years. Devin never lets her come home.”
“That’s because it’s not safe for her to go back to Chicago,” John pointed out.
“Okay, well, I’m here. So why can’t I call her and meet up?” she asked with her hands on her hips.
“Because. This is all messy enough without adding more people to it,” he said and turned away from her.
“As far as anyone else knows, we’re still in Indiana or headed to Chicago. Is it Devin? Does he think it’s too dangerous?” She’d never met Kara’s husband, but from what Kara described he was every bit as protective as John, and maybe a bit meaner.
“No. I think it’s too dangerous. We aren’t here for social hour. Just grab your sweatshirt from the kitchen and let’s go.”
“Mom hasn’t called yet,” she pointed out, going to the kitchen to snag her sweatshirt and pull her cell from the charger.
“We’ll stay close enough to have cell reception,” he assured her. Grabbing her arm, he tugged her to the door. “Let’s go before we lose daylight.”
She shot him an annoyed glance and walked ahead of him. Daylight? They hadn’t even had lunch yet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grab a black canvas bag sitting near the front door and swing it over his shoulder.
Standing on the front porch, she nudged her chin at him. “What’s that?”