by Mari Carr
Amy, the little minx, had known all about his pained condition and went out of her way to make it worse by accidentally brushing against his dick with her ass or her hand no less than a dozen times. She’d treated him to a healthy dose of his own medicine after lunch when he’d suggested they cut the sightseeing short and catch the next train home. She’d given him a wicked grin, pointing out that “anticipation makes the reward sweeter”.
Even now, she appeared to be in no hurry to move their party to the bedroom. Instead, she walked straight toward the kitchen. He followed, watching as she pulled a couple beers from the fridge.
“Want one?” she asked, holding them up.
He nodded. “Sure.”
Uncapping the Bud Lights, she tapped her bottle against his before taking a sip. She winced. “What the hell is this? Tastes like piss.”
“Harper likes it. I prefer Blue Moon myself. Let’s see. You’re an Aussie girl, so I’m guessing you’d prefer—”
She held up her hand. “If you say Foster’s, I will grab my suitcase and walk out of this house right now.”
He rolled his eyes. “I was actually going to guess Carlton Draught or maybe VB.”
“Wow. Very good, Mr. Shaw. I’m a Toohey’s fan, but I’m impressed with your knowledge of Australian beer.”
He shrugged. “Like I said yesterday, I’ve been to your continent three times thanks to work. I hope you won’t take this the wrong way. It’s a great place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.”
Her hands flew to her hips, defensively, angrily. There was no doubt Amy was proud of her country. Last night he’d been treated to a glimpse of her pajamas, a tank and panty set that sported the Australian flag.
“What’s wrong with Australia?”
He raised his hand, counting off on his fingers as he made his list. “It was ungodly hot. Something tells me it would be cooler living on the sun.”
“It’s not always hot. The winters can get downright cold. Not Australia’s fault you were a bloody dickhead who traveled there in the summer. I think we already determined that your producers are a bunch of tools.”
“Fine.” He lifted a second finger. “The spiders there are bigger than our goddamn cats.”
She laughed. “Not a fan of spiders?”
He faked a shudder. “Not at all.”
“Good to know my American Superman has a Kryptonite. I’ll have to remember that.” Amy claimed a seat at the kitchen table, so he joined her.
He took another sip of beer before continuing his list. “The air is filled with the scent of eucalyptus. Reminded me of the nasty stuff my mother used to rub on my chest when I had a head cold.”
“Are you kidding? If I had to name the number one thing I’m missing about home right now, it’s that smell.”
“Guess you never have to worry about stuffy noses.”
“I prefer the fresh, cool honey scent of eucalyptus to your smoggy, sewage-y city smell.”
“Hey now. Chicago doesn’t stink.”
She crinkled her nose. “Maybe not to you.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “It sounds like you and I are just going to have to agree to disagree about whose country smells the best.”
She picked at the label on her beer bottle. He noticed she hadn’t taken another sip. He’d probably end up finishing his beer and hers. “You know,” she said at last, “Oz is my home and I love it more than vegemite, but I’d leave it in an instant to do a job like yours.”
“You’d want to travel for a living?”
She nodded. “There are so many places I’m dying to see. This will probably sound weird, but when I was eleven, the number one thing on my Christmas list was a subscription to a travel magazine. I started to catalog all the cities and countries I wanted to travel to in year eight of school.”
“I don’t think there’s anything strange about that. I have a travel list of my own.”
“At least you’re making progress on yours. This trip is my first and, given my rather limited income, I think it will probably be my last for years.”
Her comment made him realize how little he actually knew about Amy. “That’s right. You’re a teacher. Like Harper. Guess they’re underpaid all over the world.”
She hesitated for a moment, then replied with more detail than he’d expected. “I’m a teacher on a cattle station.”
“That’s like a ranch, right?”
“Except it’s a station,” she teased. “Full of jackaroos and stockmen. Not a cowboy in sight.”
“Gotcha.” He took another swig of beer. “Sounds like an interesting place to live. I haven’t seen an Aussie cattle station on my travels. Maybe I need to add that to my list.”
“If you ever want a tour, just ring me up. I think my bosses would get a kick out of being on American TV.” Amy looked around the kitchen. “Although my little cottage is nowhere near as nice as your house.”
“It’s more accurate to say this is Harper’s house. I’m not here more than a dozen weeks or so each year. The rest of the time, I’m either on the road or at my own apartment in L.A. Feels sort of odd to be here this week without her. Unlike you, my sister has an aversion to traveling.”
“I know she hasn’t done a lot of it, but she was super excited about traveling to Oz.”
“Really?” Andrew frowned, wondering when Harper had started changing. The sister he knew would never drop everything for two weeks to head off for parts unknown alone. He could only assume Amy had been a big influence on her. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He worried about Harper’s introverted ways.
He and his sister were long overdue for a chat. “Usually she’s a homebody. While she’s done some traveling in the States, she’s never ventured into another country, with the exception of the time our family went to Niagara Falls in Canada. Even then, she was only little. I doubt she even remembers it.”
Amy noticed his empty beer bottle and handed hers to him with a grin. “Harper loves you, Andrew, but that doesn’t mean she has to tell you everything.”
Damn. So much for his poker face. Amy must’ve recognized his concern. “I used to think we were really close. This secret trip of hers is throwing me for a loop.”
“She’s a big girl. Heading out on her own is probably a good thing for both of you.”
He knew his sister was an adult, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to let go. There was too much history between them, too many painful memories. “Harper’s the most important person in my life. We tend to cling to each other, considering our family fell firmly within the dysfunctional category. Did she tell you she’s actually my half-sister?”
“No. She didn’t. What do you mean by dysfunctional?”
He stretched out in the chair, leaning back, grateful for the downtime. He felt like he’d run a marathon today rather than merely going sightseeing with Amy. “My parents were married for several years before they had me, then my mom died when I was eight.”
“Oh Andrew. I’m sorry.”
“Cancer.”
Amy reached over and grasped his hand, squeezing it. “That’s what got my dad too. Just a couple years ago.”
Her kindness touched him, made him want to open up to her. Typically his past was one of those books that remained firmly closed. He hadn’t spoken about his parents in years. “My dad waited all of four months after burying my mother before he married his secretary. Dad and the secretary had Harper, which is why I’m ten years older than her. She’s the product of a second marriage.”
“The secretary? She doesn’t have a name?”
Andrew hadn’t called the woman by her given name in years, and he was using the term secretary to keep things clean for Amy. Truth was nowadays he usually thought of his stepmother as that whore or the bitch. It was one of the reasons he never talked about family matters, especially with Harper. He never wanted his sister to know how much he despised her mother, even though he suspected the feeling was somewhat mutual.
“Her name’s Sarah.” He swallowed heavily, the word leaving a dirty taste in his mouth.
“You hate her.”
He didn’t bother to deny it. “Yeah. I do.”
“Why?”
He wasn’t going down that road. Ever again, if he could help it. “She wasn’t a very nice person. She cheated on my dad, then left him and married an asshole.”
“Harper stayed with you and your dad?”
He shook his head. She should have. His father should have moved heaven and earth to get custody of Harper. If he had…
Andrew shut the thought down before it could form.
“She lived with her mom for almost a year, but it didn’t work out.” That’s the understatement of the century. “That’s when she came to stay with me and our dad. Then Dad had a heart attack when Harper was fourteen. I was in my early twenties, out of school and working, so she just stayed with me.”
“Wow. Sounds like you were her brother, mother and father rolled into one.”
Andrew picked up Amy’s beer and drained it in one long swig. Her concerned gaze made him uncomfortable and he was worried she’d keep asking questions, continue picking at things better left alone.
Thankfully, she let it go. “I’m afraid my family story will seem boring in comparison. My parents were married until my dad passed away, at which point, my mum moved to Sydney to be closer to my older sisters and their families. I was the baby, which means at heart, I’m terribly spoiled and used to getting my own way.”
Andrew pretended to be shocked. “You? Spoiled?”
She lightly punched his arm and they fell into a companionable silence. Andrew relaxed, content to merely sit and talk to her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a conversation with a woman other than his sister. Mike was right. He’d been stuck in a rut of work and sex club affairs. He hadn’t realized what he was missing until Amy climbed into his bed.
“So where’s that sightseeing list of yours? I want to know how much other shit I’m going to have to endure this week.” While Amy had consulted it regularly, he hadn’t seen it himself.
She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled it out. “You loved every minute and you know it. But don’t worry. We made progress today.”
He took it from her and unfolded the sheet of paper. She’d drawn lines through Skydeck and the aquarium, as well as the Museum of Contemporary Art. He couldn’t believe how much they’d managed to squeeze into one day. She still wanted to go to the Navy Pier. The other places on her list were typical tourist attractions. There were a couple he’d try to talk her out of because they just weren’t worth the time. Finally his gaze landed on the last item on the list.
She wanted to go to Velvet Chains.
“No,” he muttered. He should have known he’d find it on the list. After all, she’d already confessed her interest in going to a sex club and that Harper had told her about his membership.
“What?” she asked.
“I’ll take you to every single one of these places if you’ll mark Velvet Chains off your list.”
“Why?”
He knew why, but he wasn’t willing to tell her. “I’m sure Harper’s built it up as this really cool place, but I don’t think you’d like it there.”
“Why not?”
“Just mark it off your list.”
She shook her head. “No. I want to go there.”
Shit. This was going to turn into an argument if he didn’t take a giant step back. He’d simply have to keep her so busy doing other things that she wouldn’t have time for Velvet Chains.
Of course, that solution would only work until he left town and she was on her own next week.
“You don’t have to take me there if you don’t want to. I never intended to have a tour guide for any of this stuff. I’m fine going on my own.”
Did she really think that would make him feel better? “We’ll talk about it later.”
Amy looked determined to finish the conversation now. “Andrew—”
“Stand up.” He’d waited all day to take her. His patience had officially run out.
Amy glanced around the room and graced him with a mischievous grin. “Kitchen again?”
The idea of stretching her out over the table once more had its merits.
“No.” He preferred taking her in the comfort of his own bed, seeing her displayed, naked on his silk sheets. The sheets were an indulgence, one that Harper gave him shit for. She’d called him a player when he’d first brought them home, despite the fact he hadn’t invited a woman back to their house in years. Amy was the first to sleep between those sheets with him.
Together they stood and Andrew grasped her hand. As they walked through the foyer, he picked up his single bag of purchases. He’d insisted on only one stop as they’d toured the city. A sex shop. They’d spent nearly an hour picking out the bagful of toys.
She laughed when he grabbed the bag and started up the stairs. “I think it’s going to be a very good night.”
“Strip,” he commanded when they entered his room.
Amy unfastened her jeans, shimmying them off. “What about you?” she asked, as he watched her without removing any clothing.
“I’ll get there. Eventually. Continue.”
Amy wasted no time removing the rest of her clothes. He loved her lack of reserve, her seductive poise. Confidence radiated from her. Andrew had never realized how sexy that trait was.
“Why do you belong to a sex club?”
He sighed. She wasn’t going to let the argument go. “When I was younger, I discovered I had a taste for BDSM.”
“Let me guess. You’re the Dom.”
Andrew laughed. “Usually. I’ll admit you’ve been giving me a run for my money.”
“Is that why you won’t take me to Velvet Chains? Because you’re worried I’ll give away the fact that you’re really a giant teddy bear.”
“Jesus. Is that what you think of me? Looks like I need to step up my game.”
She ran her hand along the bedspread. “Actually, I like it when you take control. Doesn’t that make me a submissive?”
He shook his head. “You have submissive qualities, but no, I don’t think you’ll ever truly be someone’s sub.”
She frowned. “I disagree.”
Whether Amy knew it or not, she was presenting a challenge he found impossible to resist. “When I ask for something, I expect it to be done without question or hesitation.”
“Oooh. Yes Sir.” She struck a pose he was sure she meant to be silly, but it looked far too sexy for his aching libido. No one tested his ability to go slowly like Amy.
“Amy—”
“I took off my clothes when you asked.”
“Fine. You want a demonstration? Go sit in the middle of the bed. Place your back against the headboard.”
Her face brightened as she climbed on the bed. He almost hated to prove she was wrong. She definitely liked the idea of pleasing him. So long as it pleased her too. She was too headstrong to ever truly submit. In the past that information would have been a red flag for him. A sign for him to move on.
Right now, it was more temptation than he could resist.
He walked to the foot of the bed as Amy took the position he requested. “Open your legs.”
Again, she obeyed.
“Are you wet?”
She nodded. “Bloody oath.”
He narrowed his gaze. “You had it right before. The correct answer is ‘Yes Sir’.”
Amy hesitated, her face showing how much that little response bothered her when it wasn’t being spoken in jest. Then she licked her lips and said, “Yes Sir.”
He fought to restrain his grin. That had rubbed against the grain.
He forged on, wanting to see how far he could push her. “Lift your breasts up.”
This time she reacted without a thought. His Aussie wildcat had no inhibitions about displaying herself to him. Her breasts were firm and full, the perfect complem
ent to her narrow waist and round hips. The term “hourglass figure” could have been coined for her.
“Pinch your nipples.”
She complied.
“Harder.”
Her fingers tightened on her own flesh. He crawled along the middle of the mattress toward her.
Amy’s gaze captured his, never wavering as he hovered over her on his hands and knees.
“Feed that pretty tit to me.”
She lifted her breast toward his mouth. Andrew sucked it in, enjoying Amy’s soft sigh. She reached up to touch him, her fingers running through his hair as she pressed him tighter to her chest.
He released her nipple with a pop. “Leave your hands on your breasts.”
Her hands lingered. She wanted to be an active participant, so it was hard for her to let go of the steering wheel. She’d never relinquish control to him. His gaze held hers, letting her know he wouldn’t touch her until she obeyed.
She dropped her hands back to her breasts slowly, lifting them up. He rewarded her with a quick kiss on the cheek. Then he resumed his place at her nipple, sucking on the tight nub until she groaned.
“God, Andrew. That feels so bloody good.”
He turned his head and administered the same treatment to the other breast as Amy held it for him. When he was able to force himself away, he leaned back on his haunches. He reached for the bag of toys he’d dropped on the edge of the bed, pulling out the nipple clamps he’d bought for her.
She sucked in a deep breath when he turned back to her, bending his head and taking her nipple into his mouth. This time he teased the nub with his teeth as well as his tongue until it was taut. She gasped when he put the first clamp on, but she didn’t complain and—thank God—didn’t use her safe word.
He repeated the motions on her other breast, then sat back to study his work.
Amy’s face was flushed. Her eyes fluttered open, her forehead crinkling at his departure. “Don’t stop. It feels good.”
He didn’t move. Instead, he let his gaze drift lower. “Open yourself up. Let me see that sweet pussy.”
She blinked rapidly. He thought for a moment she would protest his retreat. He raised his eyebrow and, once again, waited her out.