Provoked

by Riley Murphy

  Teach her? Did she just spit on him?

  He shot a look down and sucked in a breath. Not a kiss or a rub. Not even a, Master, may I swallow you whole? She just fell forward and gave it a whirl.

  God…damn.

  When she slowly pulled back her lips wrapped around him so tightly he nearly fell forward. This was her rhythm. Her devious plan. To take as much of him inside on the advance, and then torture him on the retreat. It was nasty, dirty, so all in all, fucking glorious. Once he got used to the greedy and totally unladylike motion, he knew this rough-rider style was going to be something he’d require from now on.

  “Open your throat, tiger.” Oh yeah, a cock-worshipper who took direction. His gaze dropped from hers to what she was doing. “That’s right.” He was amazed how generous she was. With each advance he literally made headway. Over and over he plunged into her hot mouth, sliding farther down her throat each time, until he was semi-buried.

  Then?

  She hummed.

  God…fucking…damn, she was good.

  She moved her head from side to side, forcing him into her in ways that stole the air from his lungs. “Fuck.” His curse only encouraged her to hum louder, so he did it again. “Fuck me.”

  When she clutched his balls and played with them, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven, but then she added to her repertoire. Combining actions. Diving and retreating, Swallowing and stuffing. Humming and…he was toast.

  “Is this what you want?” He gripped her hair tighter, pulled her closer as the need built inside him. His heart hammered, pulse pounded, as lust-fueled adrenaline rushed through him, pushing higher and harder. Racing. Roiling.

  He wanted to hold off. To enjoy the chaos when his mind demanded one thing and his body wanted another. It was the ultimate challenge and he took it as far as he could.

  “Jesus,” he rasped as hot come rocketed out of him—damn—into her mouth. Over her tongue. Down her throat.

  While he watched, she moved into him. Curling around him. Not only accepting the powerful force, but gracefully managing all he delivered.

  He enjoyed the sight of her on her knees, taking care of him. He enjoyed it too much.

  He was going to let go of her hair, but then decided against it. He wasn’t ready to let her loose yet, and she must have had the same idea. In the quiet that followed she took her time finishing with him. Contrary to her rough-rider behavior, now she was gentle as she extricated herself from him. The way she moved and the things she did. It was almost as if…as if…?

  She was courting him. No, not him, his cock, and the fucker was enjoying her lover-like attention.

  “Master,” she kissed the tip of him, using her tongue to circle the rim, all the while holding his gaze, before unblinkingly asking, “may I suck your cock again?”

  He fisted the strands threaded through his fingers and tugged her head back. “The game’s over.”

  “Can’t we play again?” Was she speaking about the game or something else?

  “Maybe.” He wasn’t referring to the game.

  He pulled her up and gathered her in his arms. He needed to get something on her before he was tempted to shove her new boyfriend into another part of her. He picked her up and unceremoniously slung her over his shoulder.

  “Master,” she laughed, “where are you taking me? To play somewhere else?”

  That last question gave him an idea. A safe, not-going-to-fuck-her, option. “Right over here.” He put her down beside the chair he’d left his clothes on. He’d planned on wrapping his shirt around her, but changed his mind. He needed to get his pants on first. With the way she was eyeing his cock, he needed cover.

  “You’re getting dressed? Oh, why?”

  She sounded so genuinely disappointed, drawing out the “oh”, that he stopped midway zipping up, and sighed. “Because play time is over. No whining and no,” he scowled when he saw her do it, “biting your lip either.”

  He went to turn his attention back to his zipper, but wound up doing a double take. She’d actually made a face at him. A real goofy, cross your eyes and stick out your tongue face. He couldn’t believe it. Truthfully, he couldn’t believe how badly he wanted to laugh at it.

  At her.

  He couldn’t encourage behavior like that.

  But he wanted to.

  He needed to say something to her about it.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead he finished zipping his pants and then grabbed his shirt. In three quick moves he had it on her and buttoned up. Way up, but because it was so big on her it wasn’t high enough for his liking. He saw her nipples underneath, poking against the white fabric. If he looked really hard he imagined he could see their dusky outlines.

  “There.” He stepped back only she followed him. So the distance he was trying to gain was a bust.

  “I really like your shirt.” She pulled on the cotton, swaying from side to side in a come-fuck-me way. “I’d like it so much better though, if you were in it with me.”

  Okay. That was enough of that. “This is the first time I’ve ever asked this question.”

  “Yes?” She drew out that one word like she had before and playfully bent forward.

  “Did your last Master die because you overworked him?”

  She frowned and then straightened. “Har, har. I’ve never had one before, but if I did, I can tell you, he would have had more stamina than…”

  “Me?” he finished for her when she couldn’t. She seemed so mad at herself for walking into that corner, that he grinned. “I didn’t mean that you would have overworked him sexually, I meant I could see some poor bastard expiring, after having to put up with all your sass.”

  “Oh. Oh!” She lost the come-hither pose. “That’s not very nice.”

  “But insinuating that I have a case of limp dick is?”

  She was very serious when she said, “Your dick wasn’t limp. That’s why I wanted to suck it again. It was beautiful, hard and—”

  “Stop.” He had to interrupt her. The way she was warming up to the topic was heating him up. And, thanks to the belated meet and greet she had with the traitor in his pants after she’d sucked him off, he wasn’t at all certain that part of him was on board with ever cooling down around her. This wasn’t on their dance card tonight either. “That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble.”

  And he wasn’t talking about what came out of it. He was more thinking about what he could put into it.

  She plopped down on the chair and huffed the large coiled curl that had bounced in front of her eye out of the way. “So this is it?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re going to dump me now?”

  He was so far from doing that. If only she knew. “No.”

  “But…the…the lesson is over. Didn’t you say when it was you were going to send me on my way?”

  Is that what she was all upset about? “No.” He held out his hand to her. “Come on. Stop sulking.”

  “I’m not sulking. I’m moping.” She stood and frowned up at him. “I know if we don’t think of something great to do together, you’re going to want to stick me in a cab.”

  “Seriously, what kind of men have you been seeing? If I wanted to stick you anywhere it wouldn’t be in a cab.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” But then an image flashed in his mind and he amended. “Unless I was sitting in the back seat with my pants down around my ankles waiting for you to climb on for a ride.”

  She perked right up. “I would so be all over that.”

  Didn’t he know it. He studied her hopeful countenance and wondered out loud, “Something great together, hmm? Would you like to do a puzzle?”

  Her eyes widened. “A sex game puzzle?”

  “No, a puzzle puzzle.” He sighed, keeping a grip on her hand and pulling her into his arms. “I have the whole series of Popular Mechanics. Three hundred to a thousand pieces, some of them.”

  Her head fell back and s
he scrunched up her nose. “Car jigsaw puzzles? That’s your something great? I don’t want to do that.”

  “I see.” He inclined his head. “Could you be more specific about what you would like to do? Are you hungry?”

  “Nope.” She wiggled her brows and leaned up on tiptoe to whisper, “Well, not for food anyways.”

  That made things easy. “Okay, we’re doing a puzzle.”

  “Do we have to? Hey, I know,” she said as he dragged her to the door. “You can show me what’s in that room in the garage.”

  He stopped at the exit. “Why? You still think it’s my dungeon.” She nodded and he shook his head. “What makes you think that?”

  Her chin lifted a notch. “I saw the security pad.”

  Oh right. He needed to lock up the whips and chains because the latter were made out of gold.

  “Please.” She bounced on the balls of her feet. “I’m dying to see what’s in there.”

  “Dying?” He doubted that, but if anyone could appreciate his baby it was her. “All right. Try to contain yourself and I’ll take you.”

  He led her along, but when they passed the room where her clothes were, she quickly pulled her hand out of his and headed toward the pool room. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

  Once she returned he saw that she had her phone in hand. “Do you need to bring that?”

  “Yeah, I should. Just in case.” She looked down and then back up at him. Was she panicking? “I don’t have a pocket though.”

  She moved as if she was going to turn back to the room, but he caught her arm. Was he imagining her stress? He didn’t think he was so he was going to have to insist. “I do. Hand it over.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Charlie didn’t want to give it to him. What if Cat called or texted?

  Too late. He took it from her and shoved it into his pocket. “Coming?”

  She was still trying to figure out how to get her phone back without making him suspicious when they reached the door leading into the separate garage. She watched as he punched in the numeric code. Once he opened the door she was expecting to see all kinds of kinky stuff, yet all there was inside was a car and mechanic paraphernalia. The sports car was on top of a cake stand looking thing.

  “Well?” He swept his arms wide. “What do you think?”

  Think? Was he waiting for something? She looked up at the car and then at him. His face was alight with expectation and it occurred to her. She was supposed to be Ms. Car Enthusiast Cat. “Oh. Yes! It’s a beauty.”

  “A beauty?” He laughed like she had made a joke and then he said, “A 1966 Shelby Cobra 427 Roadster—500 horse power V8 with a 4-speed transmission, signed by Carol with only 318 original miles is more than a beauty.” He looked at her, then sadly shook his head. “Careful, tiger, you don’t want me to think you’re down-playing this rarity because you’re envious, do you?”

  She needed to step things up before he caught on. Quickly she did some oohing, trying to remember the car talk Cat used. When she ran out of generic phrases she started looking around. The place was immaculate. Probably cleaner than her living room at home. The high gloss black and white checked tile on the floors gleamed like no one ever wore shoes on them. “Hey, with such a spacious garage, you could probably fit a few more cars in here, why do you have just the one up on the platform?”

  “It’s a lift.” He looked at her funny and then punched the same code into a different keypad.

  As the lift lowered it came to her. “1.9.6.6. It’s 1966, the year of the car. I do that too.”

  He looked down at her. “What?”

  “Well, I don’t have a security system, but I do use one password on everything.”

  “Here she is.” The car was at floor level now. “Feel free to check her out.”

  Between faking her way through admiring things on his classic, and worrying about Cat texting while he had her phone, she wasn’t having fun. Not like before. There she was trying to decide how she could turn that frowny situation upside down when she spotted the side wall filled with plaques and pictures. “Wowza, what are all those?”

  She made a beeline for them and he followed. “Those are my little brothers. Their sports teams and such.”

  Charlie examined a few photos and then came to a plaque that explained everything. Neil was not only a Big Brother; he was a big contributor to them as well. “You mentored all these kids?” There had to be twenty on the wall.

  “Sure.” She nearly shivered when he tucked a slice of her hair behind her ear and winked. “I wasn’t always rich. I remember what it was like being young and needing direction. Besides, I have a real soft spot for the underdog.” He looked at some of those photos and then looked back at her. “Truthfully, I probably learned more from them than they did from me.”

  Charlie didn’t know what to say about that. She couldn’t tell him she felt the same. That she volunteered her time at the museum on her days off so the families who couldn’t afford the admission price would get the chance to experience the exhibits.

  This was common ground she needed to walk away from. If she didn’t she’d likely start confessing.

  “What about these?” She spun around and walked back to the bright white countertop that ran nearly the whole length of the back wall. The door was on one side and a huge steel storage chest was on the other. “Are they your business catalogues?”

  She’d noticed the stack of books on one end of the counter when they first entered the room, but after she got to them she saw there was a whole pile more up against the chest.

  “Not catalogues. They’re coupon books. Fifty percent off of pizza and wings, some savings on new windows, or great discounts on patio pavers.”

  Was he selling them? She turned and then gasped. He was right behind her.

  “Careful, tiger.” He grabbed hold of her so fast she didn’t get a chance to respond. “How about you sit right here.” He lifted her onto the counter making sure she was settled before he shifted to kick a stool that was on rollers over to her, pulling it between his legs before he sat down. “So, you don’t feel like talking shop tonight, hmm?”

  Definitely not, if shop included her coming up with more car-speak. “I had to ask about the books. There’s so many of them. Do you give them out to your customers?”

  “The customers we cater to would probably be offended.” Damn he looked great sitting shirtless on that stool. He was so…so…comfortable in his own skin it made her hot all over. “I bought them so the smartest eight-year-old in the world could go to the science center.”

  “And how do you know this prodigy?”

  “Her name is Eleanor Tyshia. She lives in my neighborhood.”

  He said this so matter-of-factly she smiled. “Was she tested or inducted into Mensa or something?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Charlie shook her head. “How do you know, then?”

  “She told me.”

  “Good one.” Charlie laughed. “What else did she tell you to get you to buy those books?”

  “That Mr. Davis, the guy who lives next door, was indicted on mortgage fraud and wound up spending ninety days behind bars. That’s probably why he wasn’t at the block party.” He shrugged. “I went and before I even finished my burger, I’d learned that during the guy’s forced sabbatical Ms. Davis came across a few bills for expensive jewelry she didn’t own. Seems her husband had a liking for younger women who had a penchant for sparkly things. Anyway, as Eleanor explained, Betty was looking for a man to make her happy and she had her eyes on me. For that kind of heads-up I would have bought fifty of those books. The kid really did me a solid.”

  “So.” Charlie was trying her best not to be completely charmed. The thought of a guy like him at a neighborhood block party? Yep, it ticked a number of her potential-partner-material boxes. “Was it true?”

  He nodded. “Oh yeah. When I managed to escape her efforts one of the lawn service guys got caught in her little revenge sch
eme. He wound up mowing more than the lawn for a few months. Short story to that long one? When Davis got out he wanted the neighborhood association to fire the service, but that wasn’t going to happen. Our grounds have never looked better. So Davis refused to let them do his lawn and had to hire a different company to see to his property. Stupid move, because he’s paying for lawn service twice to this day. The real killer?” Neil chuckled and for once that dirty sound seemed appropriate. “He learned the hard way that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. He was cited, more than once, for all his brown spots. He’s got weeds too.”

  The way he said this last bit of info was as if it was a sacrilege. “Cited?”

  “Neighborhood Watch committee.” At the mention of that Charlie experienced a little zing of pleasure that quickly turned into worry. Fear because she liked this normal guy side of him as much as she liked the Master one. “And all this is why she is.”

  She was still stuck back at crushing on Mr. Normal, more so now, as she’d been introduced to the other side of him first. “What?”

  “The smartest.”

  “Ah yes.” Charlie finally caught up.

  “Believe it or not, I’ve given most of the books away. These ones right here,” he reached over and patted the stack next to her, “I’m using them as a press for a very important item.”

  When he pulled the item out from under the bottom of the stack, she looked at the large oddly shaped rubber thing and tried to image what it was. Maybe then she’d know why it was important. Cat would know what it was. Time to be evasive again. Dammit. “Oh, nice.”

  “Nice?” He briefly examined the item before putting it aside. “It’s an intake manifold gasket that got a little mangled. It’s all straight now, but that’s not the important item.”

  “No?” Dread swelled inside her. What if he quizzed her on it? The only gaskets she knew anything about were the ones on her blender that always dried out because she didn’t use it enough.