Delly's Last Night (Go Get 'Em Women)

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  Neal brought the back of his hand up against his lips, staring at her. His hand trembled. “I couldn’t think of anything else to do that would get me past the overwhelming need to hit you.” His voice was low.

  “That supposed to frighten me?” Her own voice emerged ragged and deeper than usual. Damn. He’d read far too much into that. And what the hell was going on with her? How could she allow herself to react to him in any way at all?

  Don’t forget who this man really is, Delly. He lead you into slavery.

  He was studying her again. Had her low voice tipped him off? Her heart started to beat even harder. She could feel it in her toes, her cheeks. Her temples.

  “It was a warning, damn it,” he said, his voice lower still. He was controlling it. And his eyes would not quit studying her, assessing....

  Kiss me again. The silent voice inside her was soft, but as clear as mountain bells.

  She dropped her chin, hiding her telling face from his gaze. If he knew when she was lying, then how much more could he read in her face? Could he read her sudden yearning for more? Would he have recognized that her helplessness—held immobile by the cuffs, her legs pushed up against the satin on the bed—had suddenly become an enhancement to her excitement?

  She was confused by her own reactions. These were not the sorts of games she had ever played—even in her fantasies. But right now, the idea of Neal taking her while she was helplessly bound to the bed...

  Her heart skittered.

  It’s just the danger of the moment, she told herself.

  “Delly.” His voice was demanding. “Look at me.”

  She kept her head down, until his strong fingers pushed under her chin and forced her look up. He was close. So close. She could feel his heat through the thin cotton spandex of her working clothes. Every nerve seemed to jump inside her, twirl and come alive in the space of a heartbeat.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  She licked her lips. “Payback.” She forced the word out. It emerged harsh, tearing at her throat.

  His eyes. His eyes were looking into her. Seeing everything. He shook his head gently. “No.” It was soft, almost non-existent. He lowered his head and his lips pressed against hers. Much more gently, this time. But his hand was holding her head still, and the taste and smell of him was overwhelming, making her dizzy. Her breath escaped in a telling sigh.

  His tongue probed at her lips, slipped inside to explore her mouth. The sweep of it against her acted like a goad. She strained against the cuffs holding her so still, and realized that she strained for the feel of his body against hers. Her breasts were aching for his touch, and the slender band of flesh between her legs was throbbing with unaccustomed need. It felt full, swollen.

  He stepped away, shrugged out of his jacket and ripped his tie away with impatient jerks of his hands, his eyes not leaving her face. The knife stayed in his hand, though. And this time, when he came to her, the knife slid beneath the hem of her black shirt and slid upwards.

  The knife was very sharp, and the elasticized cotton threads parted with little resistance. The shirt spread open as he slide the knife up the middle of it, to the high collar at the base of her neck. He sliced through the collar with a tiny tug, then tossed the knife on the bed behind her. He looked at her face. “Tell me to stop.” His voice was a rasping shadow of itself. “Tell me I’m the only one feeling this...whatever it is.”

  “You’re the only one.” But it sounded unconvincing even to her.

  His groan was low, and made the base of her stomach, low down, clench and throb. His hands trembled as they fitted themselves around her now bare waist. His gaze traveled the length of the long line of bare flesh the knife had revealed, all the way to her throat. “You’re bare beneath. No bra.”

  “Undergarments are...restricting, when I work.”

  His hands slid higher under the shirt, and she gasped as they found the taut flesh over her ribs. Her breasts were aching with anticipation. A few more inches higher, and his long fingers would curl over them, would bump against the hard, sensitive nipples that the loose cotton shirt were softly rubbing against, driving her need for him even higher.

  He kissed her. This time it was a real kiss, bereft of anger but filled with promise. Her body pulsed in reaction. As his hands swept up her torso she sucked in her breath in a sharp gasp—but they by-passed her breasts and pushed the cotton spandex back over her shoulders. Out of the way.

  Only her arms were bound, and the shirt couldn’t drop to the floor behind her.

  He gave an impatient growl, and gripped the neck of the shirt with both hands and tore it from her, the tough cotton parting with slow, deep tearing sounds. When she was finally naked from the waist up, he wrapped his hands around her waist again and let his fingers slide up along her back. The thumbs caressed her flesh. His expression was like that of a man who had gone too long without a favoured delicacy—or perhaps that of a man who had been stunned by good luck and was savouring it while it lasted.

  Finally, finally, his thumbs caressed the underside of her breasts, and she had to close her eyes in reaction to the sharp pleasure spearing her at that simple touch.

  She kept her jaw clamped tight against the betraying gasp that tried to escape her. “Just what do you think you’re doing, Cadogan?”

  His smile was a ghost of the real thing, almost touching his lips, but not quite. “You wouldn’t hear the truth even if I spoke it, so why don’t you consider this my payback?”

  Chapter Two

  “You would descend to rape as punishment?” Delly

  “You were stealing from me.” He smiled, and this time it did reach his lips. “And this is not rape. You’ve got good at the lies that come from your mouth, but your body is telling me something else, Delly Alexander.”

  “It’s telling you to fuck off.”

  “Fucking is certainly part of it,” he agreed, the smile blossoming. He dropped to his knees before her, and Delly sucked in her breathe in reaction. His face was level with her cleft, and that prompted all sorts of images and feelings that left her wilting and breathless.

  He took the knife to her pants, one leg at a time, carefully drawing a long line up the middle of each leg with the blade, from hem to waist. He left the last inch of waistband intact. The sheered cloth flapped to either side of her legs, leaving them essentially bare, and exposing her hipbones and the taut flesh over them exposed. But there was still a four inch panel of the stretch fabric across her pussy.

  The touch of air on her superheated flesh seemed to emphasize the places where the soft cotton pressed against her. She was extremely conscious of the material against her mons, the minute movements of fabric against skin as she wriggled. It was the most erotic sensation she had ever experienced.

  The wriggling was involuntary—a reaction to the sensations bombarding her, and the closeness of Neal Cadogan’s mouth to her throbbing clitoris.

  She clamped her jaw shut against the moan that built in her.

  Cadogan was watching her with his all-seeing eyes. Without looking, he stripped her feet of their shoes and socks. His long fingers slid along the fleshy channels between her toes, and this time her gasp was audible. The sensations provoked by that single caress were intense. She had not known her toes could be that sensitive!

  Cadogan nodded as if her gasp had confirmed something for him. His eyes were unwavering, holding her gaze to him, as his fingers caressed her ankle. Just one. The left ankle.

  He finally dropped his gaze as his hand circled her ankle, and lifted it to his mouth. He kissed the flesh there, and his hot tongue slid across the surface, making her shiver.

  He slowly nibbled, sucked and kissed his way up along the length of her shin, to her knee, where he spent a long moment teasing and licking the inner knee, before slowly moving upwards, along her thigh.

  His thick black hair was brushing the flesh just above the place where his mouth worked, a ghostly preview of what was to come.

  By th
e time he reached the valley between hip and thigh, she was trembling and panting. She refused to make any sounds that would encourage him further, but her body spoke the truth, just as he had seen.

  For one endless, spinning moment his tongue swirled over the flesh of her hip. Then it was gone, leaving her shuddering in the aftermath of ripples slithering through her body.

  He leaned back on his heels, studying her. “Say ‘no’ again, Delly.” His eyes were widely dilated, and his voice was a rough bur.

  An after-shock touched her. He was as affected as she.

  “Take your shirt off,” she said. If her trembling and breathing had not betrayed her, her voice now did. It was deeper, rough with excitement.

  He slid the buttons undone and threw the shirt aside. She stared at his chest, the well defined abs and the hard-worked shoulder muscles, all softly touched by the sun and marvelled. Neal Cadogan was a physical man. Who’d have thought?

  All the amusement had vanished from his expression. His eyes narrowed, the long black lashes hiding the predatory stare, as he picked up her other ankle and began to sup upon her.

  Delly had not thought this second journey could possibly affect her more than the novelty of the first. But now, there was anticipation. She found herself tensing, waiting for the touch of his lips, the teasing brush of his teeth, the hot soft slide of his tongue and the phantom touch of his hair and fingertips as he climbed his way to her hip. By the time his tongue swept over the protruding bone, causing her pelvis to thrust forward with an explicit, inviting jut, she was crazy with the need to have him, now.

  It was all she could focus upon. All she wanted was for him to thrust his cock inside her, ram himself into her with abandon. She wanted to be taken in the most primordial way possible.

  She hung from the handcuffs, beggared by need. “Please. Please,” she whispered.

  His hands gripped the band at her hips and tugged. The remnants of her pants were torn from her in one swift rent.

  “Let me loose,” she said. “I can’t have you, not like this....”

  He smiled up at her. “That’s right,” he agreed and he cupped her buttocks. The smile broadened, as his gaze focused on her pussy.

  He leaned forward and slid his tongue through her heated folds. It probed, firm but soft, against her clitoris.

  With a cry tearing at her throat, she climaxed. The bolt of pleasure that clamped her was so powerful that for a moment her sight dimmed. Her knees buckled.

  And her heart slammed against her chest, hurting with the power of its mad fluttering.

  Although the world seemed to grey out for a moment, it did not disappear altogether. She felt Cadogan’s hands release her, and a tugging at one wrist. Her arm was lowered.

  He’d freed one arm.

  She tried to pummel herself back to conscious thoughts of survival. But before she could do more than rail at herself for her sluggish thinking, his arm was around her waist from behind. She was being hoisted up higher...

  ...onto the bed. But higher still. Her free arm was lifted above her head to join the other, and she was lowered to the satin covered mattress.

  She lay with her hands above her head, and a small movement of her arms told her they were still bound. He’d attached the second cuff to the same bedpost as the first. She was still a prisoner, but now she lay naked on his bed.

  The testing movement had also told her that most of the feeling had returned to her left arm.

  He straddled her, and the tuxedo pants were close fitting enough to reveal the thick ridge of erect flesh pushing at the fly.

  And her heart leapt at the thought. Her orgasm had left her wanting more and clearly, there would be more.

  Her breasts ached to be touched. He had not ventured even that far, yet.

  “Why do you keep these on me?” she asked, rattling the cuffs. “I cannot touch you, like this.”

  “Neither can you stop me touching you where and how I want.” He fitted his hands around her waist again, close to where his thighs rested. He slid them upwards, and she caught her breath, waiting for their contact with her breasts. But it didn’t come.

  He lifted his hands to his pants and unfastened them, sliding the zipper undone. But he did nothing to push them aside, to reveal his cock.

  She found her hips tilting sharply beneath him. The invitation was explicit, direct.

  He shook his head. “Oh, no, not yet,” he said softly. “I’ve waited too long for this.”

  She stared at him, puzzled. “What do you mean—” But she didn’t finish, for he swooped down to capture her nipple in his mouth and every thought scattered like leaves in a gale. The exquisite pleasure that speared through her ripped a guttural groan from deep in her throat.

  “mmm..., yes,” Neal murmured against her breast, and his teeth nipped the nipple, tugged at it as his tongue brushed over the tip.

  She was panting again, the ravening need pulsing through her with a strength undimmed by the power of her first climax. Her arms strained against the cuffs, and her hips against the weight of his body, but his thighs simply clamped tighter, holding her still while he plundered her.

  After a moment that spun endlessly into eternity, he transferred his attention to her other breast. She caught her breath against the surge of excitement. His legs slid down the length of hers, as he gradually lowered himself over her. The touch of his bare chest against her abdomen was thrilling. The weight of him between her legs, pushing against the thickly congested, fleshy lips of her sex made her moan again.

  She tried desperately for coherent thought. This is Neal Cadogan! Of all people, Delly, how could you allow yourself to react this way to him? But the idea, which should have filled her with horror and perhaps even revulsion, now carried no substance. It floated away from her, unfettered and light as a feather.

  He lifted himself from her and she almost cried aloud her protest. He climbed from the bed, his silvered gaze never leaving her, and stripped the last of his clothing away. His cock jutted proudly from the junction of his thighs, thick and dark with excitement. Delly swallowed. Her throat was parched from the rasp of her breath. She could not take her eyes from his cock. She wanted it. She wanted him.

  He was moving around the bed, behind her head, and she felt a touch of fright. He tugged at the steel bracelets around her wrists. “As much as I like the idea of taking you this way, I find the thought of your hands on me much more appealing.” His voice was a low murmur by her ear.

  An electric tingle thrilled through her. He was taking off the cuffs! The adrenaline surged sharply, competing with the languor of sexual heat.

  As soon as her hands dropped loose to the satin cover, she found herself moving fast and totally without premeditation. Looming large in her mind was an incoherent emotion that she could only label as the urge for freedom. She dived across the bed, slithered off the side closest to the sliding door. The door was her escape.

  She heard Cadogan swear, but paid it no mind. He was behind her, on the wrong side of the bed and anything but ready, this time. He would never catch her.

  He caught her before she put a foot on the deck on the other side of the door. The iron bands of his arms came around her and lifted her from her feet like a doll hugged to the chest of a child.

  She was carried inside and dumped back on her feet with a force that sent her staggering across the carpet. He was right behind her and she knew he would not give her another easy opportunity to escape.

  She would just have to make one, instead.

  But his hands were on her shoulders, forcing her down. Forcing her to her knees. She sank to the carpet, but that was not enough. Now he pushed at her shoulders and she threw her hands forward, to prop herself up.

  Understanding flared in her mind as the strong hands gripped her hips. He was going to take her. Now.

  His cock pushed inside her even as she recognized what he intended. It was thick, hard and hot and pushed aside the slick walls of her vagina, spreading her, filling
her. She arched her back, the primordial animal in her revelling in this raw taking. His hands slid up to capture her breasts, rough and demanding, before capturing her hips again. He withdrew with agonizing slowness and thrust into her again, with a low growl that was as brutal as his possession of her. And she welcomed it. Even he could not have failed to see the evidence for her slit was saturated with her juices.

  He was on his knees behind her, slamming into her with ferocious strokes and she pressed her hips back, opening herself up to him. When his fingers caught her clitoris between them and began a steady, demanding stroking, she rolled her head back, her eyes closing, as her body was held in thrall by his. She could no more try to escape than speak. The wanton in her was in control.

  But even that control was quivering, ready to shatter and leave her a stringless puppet. She could feel her orgasm building...building. It gathered like the black clouds of a storm, thick with violent promise, while the air crackled with tension. His fingers against her clitoris kept time with his cock.

  As if he could read every nuance of her body, he orchestrated her pleasure, lengthening it, delaying it.

  At last, she could feel his own body ripple with the final uncontrolled, helpless thrusts and quivers that foretold his climax. With a roar he came. The guttural sound tripped off Delly’s climax, which slammed through her with the promised violence and heat.

  Unable to hold herself up any longer, she fell forward onto the soft wool of the carpet. Her breath was erratic and her heartbeat so rapid it blurred into thrumming that echoed in her temples, her ears, her toes.

  She was gently rolled over, her flank coming to rest against Cadogan’s hot body, his legs entwining in hers. He looked down at her, his mesmerizing eyes looking sleepy. His hand trailed across her body with absent-minded caresses. They weren’t intended to arouse—they were a physical man’s equivalent of doodling.

  His silence added to her swiftly expanding discomfort. She countered the guilt by lifting her arms up around his neck, and gently soothing her fingers across the flesh there. “Is this the moment when you call the police, now you’ve finished with me?” she asked. She had no interest in his answer. The question was simply to distract him.