by Elise Whyles
He growled when he felt her hands come to rest on his shoulders, her fingers digging in. Jack wrapped his fingers around her wrists and moved them. He stood. Ignoring the water streaming onto the floor, he tugged on the bar of soap hanging on a hook next to the showerhead. Clumsy, one handed, he tugged it free.
He wrapped one end of the narrow cotton rope around Gillian’s wrist and slid the soap through the silver grab bars on the wall. Using his body, he nudged her away from the showerhead, the pulse of the shower on his back until she stood, braced against the wall. “Tell me if you want me to—”
“No.” Gillian shook her head quickly. “No, don’t stop. I know it’s you, know you won’t hurt me. I just want to be with you.”
Quickly, he slipped her other wrist behind her, giving her room to move but not enough for her to cover herself. The soft cotton of the rope slid over her damp skin, binding her in place with room to move, but just enough restriction to keep her from hiding.
“Jack, what on—”
“Shh.” He rested his finger on her lips and grinned. Having her trussed up had its advantages. “It’s my turn to play.” He pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips and slid his mouth along her jaw. His tongue darted out to lick at the flesh, tasting her. The faint bitterness of her body wash, the sweat beneath, the chlorine in the water, distractions before her sweetness lay heavy on his tongue.
Down her jaw, her throat, his teeth nipped at the pale flesh. Tongue laving the wound. Calloused hands cupping her breasts, thumbs painted them in slow, sensuous circles. Every whimper, every breathy moan went straight to his groin. Letting the water pound on his back, he inched down her body, lust thickening his blood with each passing second.
*
Gillian tugged on her bonds and bit her lip at the tiny shocks of desire racing over her. The soft cotton of the rope rubbed over her flesh, adding to the gentle caress of Jack’s tongue. She threw her head back and barely heard the strangled groan as pleasure washed over her.
Icy against her heated flesh, the tiles offered support as she leaned back. She could feel the hot water swirling around her toes, sliding between them. Wiggling them, she whimpered when Jack slid a hand down her side, his fingers dancing across sensitive flesh. She sucked in a desperate breath when he ghosted over a ticklish spot. Her body lurched when he nibbled it, his teeth sliding across her hip, followed by his tongue.
“Jack.” Whimpers of need escaped as she tugged on the bonds. “Please, I need—”
“To be quiet.” Jack gave her a sharp, quick nip to silence her.
The low, whiskey-smooth baritone shot through her, pooling low in her body. She could feel her pussy clench, her clit throbbing. Blinking, she squinted in the vague hope of seeing what he was doing when his touch abandoned her.
Lightening shot through her groin; her body arched at the first pulse of water on her clit. Gillian muffled a scream into her shoulder and her body trembled. Fire lapped along her nerves. The throbbing heat in her clit tightened the coil wrapping tighter and tighter along her nerves as he moved the showerhead.
“Let go, baby. Come for me.” Jack’s voice whispered in her ear. “You know you want to. Want to step over the edge. Your pussy’s so hot, so wet. I bet you’re just aching to have something in it, aren’t you?”
Gillian panted, tugging on her wrists, her fingers splayed as she struggled to free herself. She squeezed her legs together, the aching hollow sensation competing with the rhythmic beating of the water. Crying out when he touched her thigh, she shook her head at the subtle pressure.
Strong, unyielding, his fingers tightened on her leg, lifting it to rest her foot on the top of the tub. Gillian shook, her body on fire as she felt his fingers sliding through her swollen folds and into her hot depths. Her hips gyrated slowly, seeking his finger as he pulled back.
“You want me in you, don’t you?” Jack panted, thrusting his fingers against her. “Want to have my cock buried inside you. I want to see you come, Gilli. I need to see it. If you want me in you, want me to fuck you, then come for me, baby.”
Panting, her body torn between need and want, she shook her head. Her mangled scream filled the bathroom at the change in pressure of the pulsing water and his hand on her clit, his fingers sliding free of her beaver. “Yes.” rolling her hips, she thrust them forward, lost in the sensations as he lifted the hood off the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Come for me.” The rasp of stubble against her thigh added to her heightened awareness. She jerked in her bonds and moaned. So close. She could feel the tension building, the inferno roaring through her. His hot breath a second before his tongue rasped along the surface to send her crashing into the abyss.
Her breath caught in her lungs. Muscles clenched until they burned. Her heart stuttered in her chest. The wash of her orgasm raced down her thighs as her sex clenched. Heat suffused her body, her breasts heavy, laden; she arched up.
Rough fingers trailed up her thighs, painting in the moisture clinging to her flesh. How much was the tepid shower, how much was her own essence, she didn’t know, nor did she care. On legs that trembled, she eased as far down into the tub as she could, her body arching forward to accommodate her bound wrists.
Boneless, her body swimming in pleasure, she felt Jack ease the rope over her wrists, his hands gentle as he gathered her against him. A gasp escaped when she felt the broad, slick head of his cock against her hip. She whined softly and blinked, her hands already searching for his frame. She trailed her fingers down his body, her nails rasping over his nipples.
Gillian closed her eyes and focused on learning him. On touching him. Her hands sliding over flesh that quivered, nails scoring gently. Drawing in each hiss of his breath, each groan, she couldn’t help smiling.
“Come for me, Jack,” Gillian leaned forward to whisper. Her lips brushing against his ear. “Come hard for me.”
Gillian emitted a startled shriek and clung to him as he lurched upward, her back slamming into the shower wall as he kissed her. Control vanished, his tongue slid into her mouth. Dueled with hers as she writhed against him.
His hard shaft slipped between her folds, the head bumping her clit again and again. Hanging on by a thread, she jerked her mouth free. “Now, Jack! Now, please, I want you. I need you.”
Their mutual scream filled the bathroom as he slid into her in one fierce thrust. His pubic hair rasped against the sensitive flesh between her legs. She sobbed as he rolled his hips, his pelvis putting pressure where she needed it. “Yes, yes.” Panting her agreement, she arched toward him, her palms slapping the ceramic tiles when he rolled his hips, barely touching her, his hands going beneath her thighs, spreading her open. His grip tightened on her ass as he slammed into her again and again. His raspy breathing filled her head as she raced toward the peak before crashing through the barrier and falling into the vortex of her orgasm.
Chapter 27
Barbara poured another cup of tea, her gaze sliding to the windows of the house. Silence reigned. Turning on the news, she sat back. With Lenny out of the house, she could do whatever she wanted. If only it were so easy to chase away the ghosts, fill the void he’d left.
“Today’s top stories…” The anchor’s voice filled the silence. “Recently escaped prisoner, Michael Kilpatrick, was arrested in the summer home of Barbara Krutz. He currently faces a myriad of charges including assault and battery, breaking and entering. Mister Kilpatrick was serving a twenty-year sentence for the attempted murder of his former girlfriend, Gillian Hilliard.”
Barbara hit the Mute button and stared at the television in horror. If he talked, everything would be for naught. She had no access to Gillian’s money, and her own accounts had been seized. How much the police knew she wasn’t certain, but she did know if Michael started talking they were both looking at a much more severe punishment.
She needed to get out of town, take a trip. Yes, that would work well. She’d go visit her sister in Toronto until things blew over, and they were sure to
. Gillian wouldn’t speak of the matter; she was too scared to go against her mother’s wishes.
Her hand froze on the phone at the abrupt knock on the door. Pasting a smile on her face, Barbara strolled to the door. Fear lanced through her at the marked cruiser and the Crown Victorian sitting in her driveway. Three RCMP members, two men and a woman, stood on the stoop, staring at her.
“Good evening, can I help you, Constable Feller?” Barbara hoped they didn’t notice the thread of fear in her voice.
“Barbara Krutz, we have a warrant for your arrest. Please turn around and place your hands on your head.” The woman pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “You are under arrest for Breach of Trust and fraud as well conspiracy to commit murder. Do you understand? You have the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay. We will provide you with a toll-free telephone lawyer referral service if you do not have your own lawyer. Anything you say can be used in court as evidence. Do you understand? Would you like to speak to a lawyer?”
“What? You can’t.”
Constable Feller smiled, a cold, hard movement of his facial muscles. “Would you like to make a statement Missus Krutz? Anything you say may be entered into evidence.”
Barbara swallowed hard, her heart racing. “Just who am I supposed to have done these things to?”
“Gillian Hilliard.” The woman cop clicked one cuff into place and slid the other over her wrist. “Again, do you wish to contact a lawyer? I can provide you with a number to the legal aid…”
“Yes, I want my lawyer.” Barbara huffed, stumbling as the woman officer hustled her to the waiting car. She glanced behind her at the house. “Lock the door. I wouldn’t want some thief to rob me blind.”
“Watch your head, ma’am.”
Sitting in the back of the cruiser, Barbara stared out the window, an icy fear settling over her. Just how much had they uncovered?
* * * *
Contentment oozed through her like the sunlight spilling across the bedroom floor. With a wide yawn, Gillian stretched, her back cracking as she reached for her glasses. Slipping them into place, she glanced over her shoulder at Jack who lay sleeping soundly. Across the room on the dresser her blue bin rested, the lid askew. The thick duvet was tossed aside as she rose to cross the room.
She lifted the lid and gazed down into it. Stacks of pictures were piled atop the folders she’d kept all these years. With trembling fingers, she reached in to pull out a couple and stared at them. Evidence of a past she’d rather forget stared back at her, but all she could feel was a vague hint of anger. She tossed them back in, closed the lid, and set the box on the floor before heading for the kitchen. They were in the past, and she was going to live in the now.
Her fingers trailed over the faint red mark on her wrist, memories stirring of the passion they’d shared the night before, how with Jack’s touch what had happened with Michael felt like a distant memory. It seemed such a contradiction, but she’d never felt safer than with this man, who’d used something to tie her up and make her come. The shower had only been a precursor to the rest of the night. He’d made love to her again in the tangled satin of his sheets. More than simple lust in each kiss, each caress. Did she believe he loved her? Gillian wasn’t too sure she could trust her own heart with the reality. Maybe he did, maybe not, but she knew she loved him.
“Mm, good morning.” Jack’s sleepy whisper in her ear drew a smile.
“Morning.”
“You sleep okay?”
“Yep.”
“You look awful pensive for someone who had a good sleep.”
“Just thinking of things.” Gillian ducked her head to hide the blush scalding her cheeks. “I’m covered in bruises and bumps, scratches galore, and by rights should have freaked out when you tied me up. But I…”
“You what?”
“I’m not scared with you. I know you’re safe.” She laughed and shook her head. “That’s a rather odd way to look at it, but when you touch me I don’t think of pain. Probably doesn’t make any sense.”
“Makes a lot of sense to me.” Jack pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “It’s the way it should be. Now, you sure you’re okay? Did you get enough sleep?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Turning in his arms she stared at him. “Multiple orgasms are tiring, you know.”
“Yes, they are. But they’re a lot of fun as well. I suppose we should get dressed. We’re going to have to go down to the detachment and make a statement about that prick’s actions. Then I’ll have to get someone to help fix the front door completely.”
“I am sorry about that.” Gillian patted his bare chest. “I didn’t—”
“Hey, you didn’t break the door.” Jack pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Now, you going to make coffee or should we stop at Tim’s and get some?”
“I wouldn’t mind Timmy’s coffee. So I guess that means we need to get dressed.” Gillian trailed a finger down his chest, following the narrow line of hair to the waistband of his briefs.
“Bad, bad girl,” Jack groused, pushing her into the cupboard. “I say we skip dressing, feast on each other, and call in to tell Rick he can come to us for the statement.”
Gillian laughed, her arms curling around his neck. “You think so, do you?”
“Ooh yeah. Woman as sexy as you makes my mouth water and my blood thicken.” She shivered as his fingers danced up her ribs and back down. His hands pulled her against him. Her hips wiggled at the feeling of his semi-hard dick. “Course, that ain’t the only thing you do to me.”
She lifted an eyebrow and stared at him at the peel of the doorbell. A moment later a familiar voice pulled them apart. “Hey, you two up?”
“One of us is,” Jack complained before he hurried down the hall in search of clothes.
“Good morning, Sally.”
“Morning, you watch the news yet?”
“Um, no, just got up actually.” Gillian adjusted her robe, a faint blush heating her cheeks.
“Well, you should watch it. Seems last night about dinner time there was an arrest made you might be interested in.” Sally turned on the television to the morning news before settling on the arm of the couch.
“In other news, last night RCMP arrested Barbara Krutz in connection with an investigation into the embezzlement of funds from a secured account. Details have not been released, but the local detachment said they are still pursuing other charges and the investigation is ongoing.”
“Oh my.” Gillian sank into a chair. “I didn’t know it would be so quick. They only came to me a few weeks ago.”
“Obviously they’ve been investigating it a lot longer than we thought.” Jack walked into the room, buckling his belt. “Means they’re probably close to resolving it and you won’t have to worry anymore.”
“Except for the trial.” Gillian glanced at him over her shoulder. “I don’t think I can handle it. What if I have to testify, Jack? I didn’t even know about the money.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. You can do it with your eyes closed. No matter what, I’m going to be right there with you.” He offered her a quick grin. “Now, since we’re going to Tim Horton’s for coffee, I suggest you get dressed.”
* * * *
Her hand held tightly in Jack’s, Gillian followed him inside the nondescript building. Several black plastic chairs lined one wall, above them pictures of various uniformed officers hung. Ceiling-high glass enclosed a small lobby. Silver poles with a rope strung through them led to a wide, wooden desk where a woman in a pale pink sweater and slacks stood. Behind her, a large poster with the constitution hung. A clock next to it marked the time.
“Good afternoon, bonjour. How can I help you today?”
“Hi, um, we’re here to see Constable Feller. He asked us to come in today to—”
“Oh yes.” The woman smiled quickly. “Miss Hilliard, right?”
“Yes.”
“Please come this way.” A tiny buzz sounded before the door next to the counter clicked. It swung
inward and Gillian walked through, clinging tight to Jack’s hand. Nerves fluttered and beat against her stomach as she followed the receptionist through the carpet-lined corridor to another door.
She paused at a plain wooden door, knocked twice, and opened it with a smile. “Go on in.”
Stepping past her, the heat from Jack’s frame more than welcome, Gillian glanced around the room. It was a typical office, much like the last constable’s office she’d been in. It didn’t, however, make her any more comfortable.
“Jack, Miss Hilliard, please have a seat.” Rick’s booming voice pulled her from her half-formed appraisal of the room. She sat in a chair and stared at the handsome cop. “Thanks for coming in to make a statement. I was willing to go back to your place, but this is easier since we have a few questions about the events leading up to the arrests.”
“Okay,” Gillian squeaked. “I don’t know very much.”
“That’s all right. We have a pretty good case, but we’d like to get a few more details from you about the accounts your mother was draining.”
“I didn’t know anything about them until you told me.” Gillian glanced at Jack. “If I’d known about that money, I wouldn’t have taken out student loans. I could have just paid for my tuition.”
“There are documents bearing your signature from the lawyers dating back to your eighteenth birthday. Apparently, you were able to access the funds then.”
“I didn’t sign them. I’m sorry, Constable Feller, but I don’t have any answers in regards to the accounts. I don’t even know who set them up.”
“If you recall, when I first told you about the investigation, I mentioned your father had set things in motion. We were able to ascertain the how. He took out a rather large life insurance policy on himself with you as the full beneficiary. From the records we were able to obtain it looks like he set it up to allow you to take out living expense money each month in the amount of six thousand dollars. Apparently your mother took out just under that amount and deposited it into her own account.”