Trent Evans

by What She's Looking For

  Her cheeks heated at his little dig, and she stuck her chin out in defiance. She knew she was doing nothing wrong. She was just … curious.

  Who the fuck is she?

  Before she could catch herself, her gaze moved beyond Parker, peering over his shoulder. His head twitched, his eyes following her gaze. “Ah, I wondered. You’re quicker than I gave you credit for.”

  “Who is she?” Ashley’s voice was quieter than she intended, an almost plaintive sound in it that set her teeth on edge.

  Don’t be such a little girl.

  Parker’s eyes grew so cold, Ashley swallowed down a lump in her throat. For a long moment he stared at her, that calculating, rigid emptiness she’d seen steel into his gaze every once in a while back in full force now. It frightened her — there was no point in kidding herself about it. That cold, clinical calculation she saw there bespoke nothing of compassion, or pity, or kindness. But there was something else there, just beyond the edge of her perception, another partially submerged note in the sudden flintiness of his gaze.

  Then as quick as it appeared, it fled, and he looked away, a weariness plain in his face as he frowned, his hands working in his lap. “Her name’s Maria.”

  “Maria?” Ashley wanted to touch him, for the pain in his voice was as raw as an open wound. “Who is she?”

  “I don’t want to talk about her right now, Ashley.” He slumped forward, resting his arms on his desk, tapping at more keys again.

  “Is she a girlfriend?” She inhaled deeply, gathering herself. “If you have someone else, I need to know that.”

  Parker’s eyes caught hers, and for a moment she thought it would end right there. Then a quirk of his lips shocked her heart into beating again. “It would make it easy for you to run again, wouldn’t it? A clean, easy excuse.” He lowered his voice. “No Ashley, my only girl is you. You’re enough for two men.”

  She smiled at him then, joy and relief flooding through her. Of course he wouldn’t, but then …”Will you tell me about her?”

  “No.”

  “W — why not?”

  Parker swiveled in his chair, facing Ashley. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Of course. I want to know everything about you!”

  He was silent a moment, his gaze sliding to that picture. “She’s someone I know, a wonderful, kind woman. Someone who I brought terrible pain to.”

  “Parker—”

  The hard set of his jaw quelled her. “When I was discharged, I was contacted by an agency. Another part of the government. They had interest in my particular … skillset.”

  Ashley willed herself to keep quiet. Finally, she was getting somewhere!

  “They made me an offer. I was young, had no ties to anyone, no reason to say no. Now, I wish every day that I had turned them down.” He turned off the monitor with a quick, precise stab of his finger. He turned to her. “That agency was the DEA.”

  “Oh.” She really wasn’t sure what to expect, but that didn’t seem so bad to her. Ex military, young guy. It made sense to her. Considering what he’d seemed to be hinting at earlier, it was well, not what she’d pictured. Pleasantly so.

  “They had me running an interdiction team in Latin and South America – Columbia mostly, especially along the border with Venezuela. Black ops. I don’t exist on their books, and they would certainly disavow any knowledge of me if asked — but they pay me nonetheless. Even the DEA needs people who can clean up a mess, who can take on the truly dirty jobs. That was me, I guess. One of the locals who helped me, and eventually became part of my team, was a man named Jorge.”

  Parker turned away, his fingers tapping on his desk as he stared at Maria’s picture.

  Oh no, please not that.

  “Finding a good fixer is like finding a four leaf clover. And he was really fucking good. Bravest man, I’ve ever met.”

  Her urge to hug him warred with her visceral need to learn the whole story. She had to know, even though it obviously hurt. Maybe if she knew, she could figure out what she could do to help him — even if the only “help” she could offer was letting him beat her ass.

  You’re hopeless, Ashley.

  He scrubbed his face with both hands, then laced his fingers behind his head. “I got him killed. For helping me, for trying to make his country a better place, he lost his life.” Parker swiveled in his chair, facing her, and the lost, flat look in his eyes had her swallowing down a lump in her throat. Parker’s thumb cocked back over his shoulder. “That woman is Jorge’s wife. The woman had to bury what was left of his body … because of me.”

  “Oh my God Parker, I’m … so sorry.” That she regretted trying to dig this information out of him was the understatement of the year. There was so much more here than she’d ever suspected, and though it made her heart ache for him, it also did something else. It made her feel protective of him. It was absurd, but she wanted to take away that hurt she could see in those eyes again, the hurt she’d seen before but hadn’t really understood. Now, as she knelt on that ottoman, she knew, and she wanted to cry for him. But crying wasn’t what he needed. He needed to know he wasn’t alone anymore, that she’d take on this burden with him if he needed it.

  “I shouldn’t have asked you. I see that now. I’m so sorry.” She lifted her chin, staring into those lost eyes. “Tell me what I can do. What do you need? Even if it’s just someone to hold. Even if it means you tell me to go away for awhile, I’d do it, hurt or not. Tell me, Sir. I’ll do it.”

  “Get down on your knees.”

  Ashley yanked at her chains. “Okay. Parker, what—”

  “On. Your. Knees.” Parker stood up, wrapping a hand around one of her chains. “Obey me, that’s what I want now.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her heart pounded as she haltingly obeyed him, his grip on her chain more proprietary gesture than anything intended to help her. Slipping to the floor she looked up at him, her pulse heavy at her throat.

  He watched her for several long moments, his expression unreadable, those gray eyes boring into her, staking her in place as surely as any bonds could. His fingers traced the length of her chains, moving up to her collar, where they stroked along the demarcation line of her trembling flesh and implacable leather. He put his fingertips to her lips, and she closed her eyes, pressing soft kisses to them.

  “Parker, please … “

  He shook his head slowly, a long finger laid across her lips, then crouched down before her, mere inches away. His keen gaze took in every constrained curve of her body, his fingers enjoying the whorl of her umbilicus, his touch making her abdominals tremble.

  Ashley sighed, her head falling back as his hands took the weight of her breasts, simply holding them, caressing their vulnerable contours in the rough, calloused palms. She tensed, expecting, hoping, dreading the harsh pain of the squeezing she was sure would come, that sweet hurt that would have her biting her lip, her nipples hardening in his palms.

  But the pain never came.

  “I like this. You’re shaking all over, girl. Why?”

  “I don’t know,” she lied, the air cool on her now hard clit throbbing its tune between her thighs. The need to do anything, anything at all, to help him was strong. She had nothing to offer but the comfort of her body, the sounds of her cries, the please of her subjugation. She hoped it would be enough, something she could offer to help dull the blades of the pain she felt rending him even now. That he need to help him was hopelessly entwined, confused with, her lust was largely immaterial now. Still, she wondered how she’d become this wanton slut, this creature of lust. How this evolution had happened — or if this was no evolution at all, rather a revealing of the true identity of her soul.

  And right now, she mostly wondered what she’d have to do to get him to touch her aching clit.

  “Ashley, do you know why you react this way?”

  She stared into his eyes, hoping she could see where he was going with this. But his eyes were hooded, unreadable, the cold man who still kn
ew how to keep her out, if he felt like it.

  Someday, she’d figure out that secret, the way in — and he’d be hers.

  He’ll never be yours, idiot. It doesn’t work that way.

  But her heart knew the truth of things, even if the brain didn’t want to see it. Did she have the courage to follow the path she knew would lead to him?

  Her eyes lowered, and she bowed her head. “I don’t know why I react this way. I only know how you make me feel.” She peered up at him through her heavy lashes, her cheeks heating. “I know you show me what I’m afraid to see. Even though I’m scared … “

  “Tell me, girl.” This time the harsh grip did come, her breasts aching in the clutch of those pitiless hands, and a surge of moisture let down so strongly from her pussy, she was sure she was dripping on his carpet. “I want to hear it from your lips. All of it.”

  Courage.

  “Even though I’m scared, I don’t want you to go easy on me. I want you—” she swallowed, her heart beating so hard it felt like a struggling animal in her chest “—to never let me off. I need that harshness, the consequences.” She sighed, and his grip on her breasts tightened a notch further. “I want all of you — even the parts you’re afraid to let me see. Because I think we’re the same — two parts of the same whole.”

  “Look at me, Ashley.” His voice was so quiet, she wasn’t sure he’d actually spoken. Her eyes met his, and he released her breasts, touching one of her cheeks. “Don’t ask this of me. Not now.”

  She could feel the tears welling, and she willed them to wait. She was so close. Just outside the gates. “Why? You want to give what I need. Am I wrong?”

  He gazed at her, his eyes searching hers, the harsh glow of a spotlight on a moonless night. “No,” he finally said. “I don’t deny it, Ashley. But you don’t know what you’re asking. Who you’re asking this of.”

  “Goddammit Parker! Stop holding back! You don’t scare me!” She could feel the wetness course down her cheeks, but it didn’t matter anymore. “Show me all of it. Take me the way you need to. Use me in the way that feeds you. I want all of it. I want you. I need you. Give me your love, your hate, your fear. Fill me up with it. I don’t care anymore! Just don’t make me wait any longer — whatever it is!”

  All the dreams she’d had, the fevered fantasies, all the nights she’d laid in bed wondering if she were simply an aberration, a broken being, irretrievable — forever cursed to search for that which didn’t exist. But now she thought she’d finally found it.

  The missing part of her.

  But was this terrible, beautiful man what she sought? How awful would it be if he were, but couldn’t see it? Blind to that bright, pure truth?

  His smile was bittersweet, his hand caressing her cheek, the fingertips touching the softness of the lips she pursed into a kiss. “Sweet girl. My sweet girl” Then he stood, that smile gone, his jaw clenching, eyes flashing. “Put those tits on the floor. Now.”

  She went over so fast her head hit the carpet, hard, dazing her for a second. Crouching there, she’d never been so frightened in her life. Not at what he might do to her, but at the chance she might have pushed him too far. Because it was that flash she’d seen in those lust-filled eyes, like an apparition just beyond conscious perception, but something she could still feel.

  The real Parker.

  And it was at this moment that she knew only one of two things would happen.

  Would he let her see that being — not the Dom, but the man? Or would he run, closing that door forever, passing up the one chance either of them might ever have to find that someone who accepted them for who they really were, broken darkness and all?

  The hand closed on her hair, holding her tight. “I need … you. Ashley, I need you. I need you to be able to — to be able to accept me.”

  “Oh God, Parker,” she said, her lips moving against the carpet. “I do. Please! I do! It’s okay. Show me all of it. Drown me in it. Just let me in!”

  He pulled her up to her knees by her hair, and dropped to his own in front of her. Then his mouth crashed down upon hers, his kisses frenzied. He yanked her head back, his breath hot against the very artery that pumped with her life. “Ashley, how did this happen? How could it happen? Why?”

  “What Parker? Oh God, what?”

  “It can’t be. Can’t!” His lips pressed hard kisses to her temple, her forehead. “I’m in love with you, Ashley.”

  She kissed him back, licking, sucking, biting him, devouring his frantic kisses, taking all of that frenzy into herself, using it to stoke her own lust higher. There was nothing else other than this. The world was nothing, her life was nothing. Only this. This moment in time, with this man.

  “I love you, Sir,” she whispered against his lips, her tears wetting her cheeks and his. “Make me yours, forever. Please.”

  Parker held her head to his chest whispering into her hair. “You already are, Ashley.”

  “Show me.” Ashley pulled her head back, looking up into his eyes, the lust she saw there firing her own further. “Make me feel it, please.”

  His fingers clamped onto her nipple, the harsh squeeze making her suck in a breath through gritted teeth. “Kneel up, girl.”

  She pushed herself up, watching his face for guidance, his expression so impassive even a lifted eyebrow might be all he gave her to tell her what he wanted. It would have to be enough, because at that moment all she wanted was to please him, to give him pleasure … and perhaps, to make him forget for even just a moment the pain that even now consumed him, that pain he’d finally shared with her.

  “Higher, girl.” He smacked her other breast with his palm, her nipple still clamped within his cruel grip. “Back straight. I want you to display your tits properly.”

  He turned her in place, the effortless power of his arms almost making her moan, positioning her so that she faced the ottoman. He tugged on her hair. “Shoulders back. When a man tells you to display those big tits of yours, you need to make sure they’re the first thing that catches his eye.”

  Parker walked around her, and sat down upon the leather ottoman, facing her, spreading his knees to either side. He dipped his chin, his gaze hard. “Take out my cock.”

  “But, my hands—”

  “You’re going to learn how to do a lot of things with bound hands, so you’d better get used to it.” He jingled one of her chains. “These are gonna be a regular part of your existence whenever you’re under my roof. Now, get to it.”

  His cock was already huge and hard, clearly visible through the fabric of his pants, and she leaned forward until she could just reach his fly, undoing it with trembling fingers. He said nothing as she worked, his body utterly still, but the tension almost purred through the lean muscles of his long thighs.

  It was difficult, the cuffs preventing her from being able to reach into his pants, and finally she just worked them down enough until his cock sprang forth, the clean, enticing male scent of him filling her nostrils. “Take it in your hand at the base. Firm grip.”

  She chanced a smile up at him, her blood rushing in her ears. His eyes darted up to hers, then down to his cock expectantly.

  Bound as she was, she savored the opportunity to touch him, to hold that magnificent cock in her hand, to feel the thrum of his pulse against her skin. She angled her other wrist down to hold the weight of his heavy balls, luxuriate in the silky smoothness of his scrotum. The heat of him in her palm surprised her, and yet she never wanted it to end. There was something about holding the erect, throbbing penis of the man you loved, that penis that was so hard, aching for her. It both touched her and filled her with an unexpected feeling of exultant, feminine power.

  Not a particularly submissive thought there is it, slut?

  Her mouth was already moistening, and she leaned forward, her lips opening.

  “No.”

  “Sir?” Looking up at him, she watched that stony expression give way to a half smile curving his sensual lips.

 
“Do you think you deserve to take me in your mouth?”

  “I — I want to, Sir. God, I want … “ Ashley’s tongue, almost with a mind of its own, extended. Just a touch, a taste of that delicious male flesh.

  A hand clenched in the hair at the crown of her head, hauling her back so that she looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I can see we have a lot of work to do here, girl. Do you know what I’m getting at?”

  “No, Sir.” That she’d fucked up, she knew, but if she’d been able to taste him, it would have been so worth it. Though her buttocks were already tingling, knowing they’d likely be feeling his lash again in the very near future, her overwhelming lust for him didn’t care. She wanted this man, even if it hurt. Maybe even because it hurt.

  His hands grasped the cuffs about her wrists, undoing them quickly. “You’ll need these free.”

  “What do you … ?”

  “I want your tits this time.”

  “What?”

  She had no idea what he had in mind, but she tensed with both the fear and anticipation she’d come to relish when alone with him. The fact that he was so unpredictable held its own, twisted appeal.

  “Take a breast in each hand and lift them. Present them to me.”

  She obeyed, her nipples instantly pebbling to diamond hardness as her fingertips brushed them, her left nipple still throbbing from the cruel pinches his fingers had just given it. The act of holding her breasts up for him was equal parts exciting, and embarrassing. It was as if she were holding up melons she’d brought for inspection, to make sure they met his needs.

  Ashley hoped they did, whatever the hell he had in store.

  “Higher, slut.” He slapped a hand against her tortured nipple, the pain harsh, making her grunt. “These are mine, and I want a good look at them. Do what you’re told.”

  Feeling the blush at her cheeks, she pulled them higher until she felt the stretch of her skin, dropping her head as his avid gaze zeroed in on the prominent lengths of her hard, red nipples.

  His hand grasped his cock, the wide head glistening with moisture at the slit. “When I tell you I want to use your tits, that means I want to fuck them. Do you understand what that means?”