Night Moves (G-Man Series)

by ANDREA SMITH

  "What about my car? How'd you know where I was? And what in the fuck is going on?"

  "You've a lot of questions, love. The only one I'm answering at the moment is about your car. Rest assured it'll be delivered to the hotel garage later. No worries."

  My mind was riddled with confusion and conflicting emotions as I sat silently in Easton's car. I had definitely meant what I said to Darin. There was no going back for me with him. Easton however - he was a completely different story. I was drawn to him for whatever reason. I couldn't explain it because I didn't understand it myself. It was as if the chemistry between us was on steroids, and yet it was more than just that. It was a bonding of sorts that was inexplicable, but strong, almost as if being on the verge of some major discovery for the both of us. It was mesmerizing . . .

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  I was sitting in stony silence on the sofa in Easton's luxurious Presidential suite, watching as he paced in front of me one hand in the pocket of his business casual trousers, the other hand raking through his thick, tousled hair in frustration. He'd barely said a word to me on the way here. I hadn't missed the occasional twitch in his cheek, as if he was struggling with some inner demon, not quite sure who to be angry with in this most recent cast of characters.

  I finally saw him exhale as if he was no longer at odds with whatever. He turned to face me, his hand now rubbing the back of his neck relieving the pent-up tension.

  "I have to punish you," he said plainly. "There's no other way around it."

  I awoke with a start, my wrists were painfully sore. Then I remembered. I felt a smile play on my lips as my fingers massaged the tender flesh on one wrist, soothing the skin that had been bruised by the handcuffs My ankles had been bound together tightly with leather straps which in my mind had been worse but I'd understood the necessity of it. Easton had been about inflicting pain last night, not pleasure. Well that's not altogether true. The pain had brought me pleasure, not that he'd intended it to, but it had nonetheless.

  I snuggled back against him, feeling his arms tighten protectively around me. He was stirring and I knew he hadn't slept well last night. He'd tossed and turned, repositioning himself a half dozen times around me asking me if I was okay. I knew he'd been apprehensive about how I'd react to my punishment and concerned that he'd crossed the line with me or maybe with himself, but I'd leapt across that line, hands and feet bound tightly together into his world of discipline and respect and I understood the rules now. I comprehended this man.

  I rolled over to face him, looking up into his smoldering gray eyes that were studying me intently. Was he concerned I'd flee from his bed? Not a chance. I was still naked beneath his sheets. I could still feel his cum dripping from me. My God! We'd fucked most of the night - after the punishment had been dispensed with that is. I'd never been with a man that had a sexual appetite comparable to Easton's. It was as if he'd been on a mission to bury himself in me, and despite my reddened behind and sore wrists and ankles, I hadn't wanted him to stop.

  He lowered his mouth to mine, kissing my lips softly.

  "Morning, love," he murmured, his voice rough with early morning. "Are you alright?"

  "I'm fine, Easton. Stop asking me that," I whispered against his lips. "I want more."

  "Don't say that," he snarled, immediately disengaging from me and sitting up. He raked his hands through his fuck-tousled hair.

  I frowned, perching myself up on one arm, my fingers reaching out to touch his sinewy muscled back. "What is it?" I asked, frowning.

  He stood up, distancing himself from me, not bothering to hide his agitation. "For Chrissake you can't possibly think what happened last night can ever happen again. I won't let it," he snapped. "It's not what I want with you."

  "Okay, I'm definitely not following you here. I kind of thought it rocked."

  He took two steps towards me, his eyes flashing. "That speaks of your needs, not of mine, at least not anymore - not with you."

  I was pissed. Damn pissed! I'd been quite the trooper and was fucking proud of it. Now he was telling me what? That I sucked at being punished?

  "You're being an ass," I snapped, hoping to get his ire up, along with anything else on him that cared to rise to the occasion.

  "I am an ass," he spat. "You should've figured that out a long time ago. I don't want to be an ass - not with you at any rate. You didn't deserve the things I did to you last night."

  "Which things?" I asked.

  He was silent.

  “The flogging?" I taunted. "The thin leather straps with the metal tips you flailed across my back and butt. Your aim was perfect, by the way."

  I saw his quick intake of breath as my words hit home. He turned towards the bathroom to put more distance between us.

  "Or the bondage?" I persisted, cockily, trying to draw him back. He stopped and turned towards me, his face masked with shame. "The titanium steel handcuffs attached to my wrists, and the leather binds for my ankles making me unable to move while you fucked me raw."

  "Any of it," he replied.

  "Who deserved it, Easton?"

  "All of them - apart from you. All of the whores I've been with, the ones I've punished in that way. Do you need names?"

  "Only one," I replied, watching him with interest.

  "Bianca," he snarled, his eyes flashing with fury. "It's how I wanted to fuck Bianca, the traitorous bitch. It's how I thought I wanted to fuck you until I realised . . ." He broke off mid-sentence, agitation once again settling in as he dealt with his own confusion.

  "Realized what?"

  "Nothing," he muttered, going into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him, leaving me to guess how he might've finished that sentence.

  I sat back on the bed, pulling my knees up under my chin, trying to figure out this complicated man. He'd been angry with me in London when I'd fixed my hair and make-up like hers. He'd succeeded in punishing me that night. Then there was the night of the thunderstorms when he'd made love to me and slept curled around me all night. He'd taken care of me the following night when I was trashed. Oh My God! I remembered him trying to get me to sleep. I asked him if he loved me . . . I remembered his answer now: "God help me."

  Wait a fucking minute.

  I launched myself off of the bed and barged into the bathroom where Easton was at the sink, splashing water on his face. He turned his face to look at me as I pointed my finger at him accusingly.

  "You love me!" I yelled. "You fucking love me, don't you?"

  He didn't say a word. He gave no verbal or non-verbal response admitting or denying. He didn't need to because I knew the truth. He loved me.

  I watched as he approached me, both of us still naked. He took me by the hand, leading me to the massive marble shower. In silence, he washed every part of my body, cleaning and polishing me as if I were his prized possession. He grimaced as though he was feeling the pain of the marks present on my wrists, ankles and butt. He was extremely gentle with me, washing my hair, and leaving soft kisses on my neck and ear lobes.

  He patted me dry with a soft towel and then carried me back to his bed, placing me gently beneath the covers.

  "Sleep now," he instructed me. "I'm going to shower and work from here for a bit. We'll talk later."

  "It's a work day, Easton," I argued glancing at the bedside clock. "We've got to be at work in less than an hour."

  "I've got it all taken care of, love. I phoned in letting the rest of the staff know that I'd be working from here."

  "What about me?"

  "Call in sick," he replied with a slight smile. The first one I'd seen on his face for quite some time.

  I did as instructed and then crawled back into bed and fell into a very delicious slumber feeling the love of the man in the next room who'd become so important to me for some very strange reason.

  Later, he crawled into bed, pulling me closely against him, making me feel loved, protected, and for some reason, very secure. The tide had changed in our relationship. I
knew it. He knew it. Words were not necessary because we both just knew and I was okay with that for as long as Easton chose to love me. I didn't want to analyze it, put it under a microscope and pick it apart. He made me happy and me him it seemed. So, for now we would just simply enjoy it.

  ~ Easton ~

  I gazed down at Darcy and my heart was heavy with the knowledge that she was right. I loved her. How in the fuck had I let that happen? That wasn't supposed to happen to me ever. I couldn't even say 'again' because this was so much more than it had ever been with Bianca. This whole thing with Darcy had cornered me into the realisation that I'd never really been in love before.

  I know how trite that sounds, how utterly female it is to say you can love someone but not be in love with them. The fact remains it's true for men as well. I'd loved Bianca as one loves a prized possession, or a trophy for a performance well-executed, or a rare gem that others would kill to have, but I hadn't been in love with her. If I had, I never could've transformed that love into the all-consuming hatred I had for her after discovering her affair with Christopher, and the abortion.

  Sex with Bianca had always been about her following my orders on what I wanted and how I wanted it. She'd understood my sexual quirks, and while not always on board with it, she tolerated it because it suited her to do so at the time. She loved the money I spent on her, the power and privilege that went along with being Easton Matthews' fiancé. The night Darcy had tried to emulate Bianca was the night I realised I felt something for her, something alien to me. I'd been infuriated at seeing Darcy trying to transform herself into the shallow and insidious Bianca. As if that would have endeared her to me.

  In the first ten minutes after meeting her I was fucking clueless. Aside from the obvious - that being her looks, her body, and the way her pussy clenched my cock whenever I buried myself inside of her - there was so much more to her that gave me cause to slowly come entirely unraveled by her. I enjoyed her outspoken nature, her playfulness and the fact that my wealth or power didn't impress her. I liked the way she could hold her own with me and get in my face when she needed to.

  I liked the fact that when Mummy and Daddy pushed her from their financial nest egg she rebounded with a determination to show everyone she had the ability to make it on her own merit, including me. She'd done a fantastic job on her debut presentation. We'd received the renewal contract three days later. Of course, being the prick I was I hadn’t shared that with her just yet.

  I also loved the fact she was willing to take whatever punishment - physical or otherwise I administered without a whimper. Just as she'd done last night. She relished the bondage and the flogging; the problem was I hadn't. I couldn't. Not with her. Not ever.

  I gently lifted a lock of her dark brown hair, caressing my lips with it wondering where to go from here. She drove me to distraction and that wasn't a good thing. I knew what a possessive and controlling arse I was. There was no way in hell we weren't going to push against each other and have our verbal battles and I mean often, yet I looked forward to doing just that with her. It was the very first time ever I'd regarded a woman as my equal. She was perfect for me though I knew the road going forward would have twists and turns and be bumpy at times. We were both so imperfectly perfect for one another. Still, I was getting ahead of myself. After all, she hadn't shared with me as to whether the affection was mutual. Perhaps I was assuming too much. Maybe she didn't feel the same things I felt for her.

  She stirred in her sleep, her brilliant eyes fluttering open and seeing me watching her.

  "Easton," she said softly. "What is it?"

  "I'm done with my work. I've a gift for you."

  She eyed me suspiciously. "Where?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  "It was delivered a little while ago," I replied chuckling. "Come out here with me and I'll show you."

  She put a bathrobe on, following me out to the living room. I handed her the small box that the courier had delivered just a half hour before. She opened it, her brow furrowing in confusion. She looked up at me, a half-smile playing on her lips.

  "Is this what I think it is?" she asked coyly.

  "It is," I replied, watching for a reaction.

  "But I'm not pierced there," she responded.

  "We can have that remedied if you like."

  "Is that what you want?" she asked tersely.

  "Not at all, love. I simply thought it would make a nice gift for you. I've heard a vertical hood piercing can significantly enhance the pleasure of orgasm, but I understand if you're disinclined to undergo the procedure. It may be a little painful, though I didn't mind when I had my piercing done. I think it was well worth it, don't you?"

  "It's not that," she said, clearly flustered. I had to admit it was quite entertaining to see the rare occasion when she was at a loss for words. I watched as she bit down on her lower lip trying to find the right words.

  Christ, don't do that, love. You'll never finish what you have to say if you keep doing that.

  "I mean," she continued, "how long would I have to . . . abstain from sex? You know, once it's pierced?" I watched her cheeks turn a flattering shade of pink.

  Fuck. Don't do that either.

  I stroked her hair, tilting her chin up so that her eyes locked with mine. "Just a few weeks. I'd be happy to pleasure you in other ways if that's your only reservation. Or maybe we could simply have this beautiful black onyx re-set into a tummy button ring for you."

  "No," she quickly replied, looking down at the gem. "Though . . . I wouldn't mind having a matching one for my belly-button." A corner of her lips quirked up, giving me a shy and hopeful smile.

  "Brilliant," I replied, smiling. "I'll see to having another one made."

  "You had this made for me? Why?"

  "I wanted it to be special. Something no other woman has but you."

  "Well, Easton, I think it's fairly safe to say how would anyone know? I mean it's not like clit jewelry is visible to the general public." She was laughing now, shaking her head. I was simply pleased that it had gone so well.

  I phoned Mark once Darcy had gone back to dress and ordered another black onyx for her tummy button ring.

  "Should this one have a hot-spot?" he asked.

  "Wouldn't hurt to have a back-up to be safe," I replied. "I'll need it tomorrow, so make it a priority at the lab."

  "Yes, sir."

  I made another call to a professional contact and let Darcy know when she reappeared that her piercing was scheduled for the following evening at my suite.

  "You mean you have someone coming here to do that?"

  "You act surprised," I replied, giving her a wink. "Come on, I need to get those clothes back off of you. If we have to abstain for a couple of weeks, we'd better have a few for the road."

  "I hear that," she giggled, grabbing my hand and leading me back to the bedroom.

  This time I made love to her slowly and sensually. I placed my lips on every piece of her I could find, craving new places from the top of her head to the tips of her toes enjoying every soft inch of her. I was careful to avoid those areas with marks, lifting her up and over me so that I could gently settle her down onto my rigid cock. She moved her hips in perfect rhythm, up and down, leaning forward so that my cock piercing hit just the right spot, over and over again. My hands cupped her creamy breasts, gently tugging at the nipples, raising my mouth to take one fully, suckling gently.

  "Mmmm," she moaned sweetly, riding my cock slowly and deliberately. I could feel her pussy contracting around it. Our eyes locked as our climax mounted toward the crescendo that ultimately would send us both into a spiral of pulsating pleasure. "That's it," she gasped. "Keep fucking me just like that Easton. God, baby, you make me feel so good. . ."

  Her soft, husky voice speaking those intimate and sexy words were all I needed to descend with her into that sweet depth where we were lost in the pleasure and passion of mutual release.

  It had been two weeks since I'd had the hood of my clit pierced w
ith Easton at my side during the procedure. It had better be fucking worth it once cleared for sex in another week. That was the worst part of it. I'd been spending most of my time at Easton's. I'd gone back to my apartment and picked up some of my clothes and toiletries while Eli was at work the day I'd called in sick.

  Of course, he'd worried like a bitch-you-didn't-come-home-last-night older sister when Lindsey hadn't been able to reach me, and naturally had phoned Eli to see where I was. She'd spilled the whole story to him about Darin and what had happened at Busbee's. I wasn't about to be around the apartment and have Eli accidently see the bruises on my ankles or wrists. I'd worn casual pants and long-sleeved blouses to work the rest of the week.

  So okay, now let's deal with the elephant in the room here, shall we? Call me a freak, call me a perv, but I'd enjoyed the punishment Easton had unleashed upon me that night. Thoroughly. Fucking. Enjoyed. It. What more can I say? Does that mean I have "Daddy" issues? Please! Does it mean I feel subservient to Easton? Only when I choose to and it's about the pleasure I get from it, so it's really still about me, got it? Will Easton continue to punish me like that?

  Fuck No! And I'm a tad pissed as hell about it.

  "I don't understand, Easton," I'd friggin' whined. Yep, that's right, whined. "Am I not doing something right? Not giving you the reaction you need to make it hot?"

  "I've told you before, Darcy, it's not who I want to be with you. It's not happening again. End of subject."

  I knew Easton loved me, though he'd never said the words to me once I'd confronted him with it that morning after my punishment. I decided I wasn't going to say it to him, either. Maybe that's what ruined a good thing. I'd been totally open with Darin, professing my love for him once he'd said it to me. (Rule #1, lovelies: Always wait until the man says it first!) What good had it done me?

  Darcy's Law of the Male Psyche: Once you let a guy know you love him, he knows he's conquered you and it's just a matter of time before he's trolling around for his next 'challenge.'