Willing Victim: Remastered

by Cara McKenna

  “Can I tell you something that really annoys me about you?” he asked.

  Laurel frowned, confused. “I guess so.”

  He exhaled against her skin. “I really hate that you spent the time and money—well, somebody else’s money—to get a degree you don’t even want.”

  Her body tensed up tight as a fist. “I want my degree. I’m proud of my degree.”

  “How come you’re wasting it then? Taking a shitty waitressing job away from some other college kid?”

  A fever grew inside her, hot and defensive. She opened her mouth to reply but Flynn went on.

  “You know what I wanted to do when I was little, more than anything?”

  “Grow up to be an engineer?” she asked, knowing her tone was bitchy and not caring.

  “Kind of. I wanted to build buildings. Not like I do now. Not hanging drywall or pouring foundations so I can end up with a bad back and no insurance when I’m fifty. Like be an architect or whatever. It pisses me off that you basically have that, and you’re shitting it away.”

  “Engineering wasn’t what I’d expected.”

  “And waitressing’s a beautiful fucking fantasy land?”

  “I stopped after my mom died, okay?” She rolled onto her back and glared at him. “For the first time in my life I decided to stop working my ass off for other people and be fucking irresponsible for a change. Happy?”

  “Maybe you got depressed, like her.”

  She yanked her arm out from his grip. “Fuck you. I thought you hated analyzing people.”

  “I hate being analyzed.”

  “Then you must know how fucking annoying it is.” She propped herself up on an elbow and stared at him in the near-dark. “It’s none of your business what I do with my life.”

  “It’s none of your business if I wear a mouth guard. But you’re right to be a naggy little bitch about it.”

  “I’m sick of this conversation, Flynn.”

  “You shouldn’t have said yes when I asked if you wanted to hear my opinion.”

  “Like you really gave me a choice. Why did you even ask me that? What was that about?”

  “I wanted to know what was up with you,” he said. “You went all quiet and it freaked me out. Usually when I make women go all quiet it’s a really horrible sign.”

  “So you…you crammed your dirty fingers all inside my open wound, like I’m going to open up and cry about stuff if you antagonize me hard enough? Can’t you just respect that I don’t want to talk about it?”

  “Sorry.” His jaw clenched and released a few times. “I just wanted you to say something and stop being all shut-down. I wanted to know if I upset you.”

  “Well, that was a stupid fucking way to go about it.”

  “Sorry… Would you like to tell me something about me that annoys the living fuck out of you then?”

  She squinted at him, chewing her lip. “I think it’s really obnoxious that you never became what you wanted and you’re being a douche about it now, taking it out on me. In bed.”

  He nodded. “Good. We even now?”

  “I also think it’s irritating that you treat me like your girlfriend sometimes, when I know I’m not.”

  That shut him up. He didn’t reply and she could see the dark circles of his irises drift toward the wall—not eye-rolling, more like escape-route-plotting.

  Laurel sighed, frustrated.

  “What do you think we are?” Flynn asked. His tone was odd, diplomatic and calm. Laurel’s pulse ground to a halt.

  “I didn’t think you did girlfriends,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “I dunno. Because I’m not the only woman you’re banging, for starters. Or what if another willing woman came along? You said it’s hard to find people who’ll go there with you. Wouldn’t it be a waste to let yourself get tied down, in case a new one showed up?”

  “Wouldn’t it be a waste to not try and stay with one I liked?”

  She entertained a dozen images in five seconds—a smiling Flynn walking down the street toward her, sliding onto a barstool next to her, shaking hands with Anne. She shifted onto her side again, staring blankly at her hand against his sheets.

  “What about Pam?” she asked.

  “I’m not seeing her anymore.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m not. Not since Friday, before the last time you and me hung out.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed, hard, choking on hope. “How come?”

  “Not sure. Something to do with her husband, I think. It’s her business. I didn’t pry.”

  “Oh,” she said again, feeling intrigued but uneasy. “I guess that’s all well and good for your little boyfriend-girlfriend speech, but I mean, would you have kept seeing her if her husband hadn’t pulled the plug?”

  “Not if it seemed like you and me were turning into something. Not if you’d asked me not to.”

  Laurel laughed, not convinced.

  “You think I’m some sort of sex maniac, don’t you?” he asked, voice sharp.

  “No.”

  “You think I don’t know how to date? You think the kind of sex I like is like some condition? Like a fucking dialysis machine I have to drag around behind me, making everything into a big fuckin’ hassle?”

  She rolled over to meet his stare. “Do you…what do you think of me as?”

  “You’re the nice, smart, hot, funny woman I’m sleeping with. If that’s still true in a couple weeks, and maybe you throw in a night when we sleep together but don’t get around to fucking…yeah, I’d probably tell people you’re my girlfriend.”

  “I see.”

  “You gonna finally freak and run out the door? Let me know and I’ll get my shoes on and drive you.”

  Laurel turned over, didn’t reply. As much as she liked Flynn, as much as she liked what he was saying, there’d been a safety to imagining he’d never entertain the idea of coupledom. Now she’d inevitably look at him differently and the whole ugly dynamic of who-likes-who-more would come into play. She didn’t want to wake up in a month and realize she cared more about him than he did her, that she might lose him. And she didn’t know if she was ready to have someone in her life who’d hold her to a higher standard than she’d been doing herself these past couple years.

  His hot sigh warmed her neck. “What’re you thinking about, sub shop girl?”

  “Nothing.” Tons.

  “You know I said two weeks ago or whenever that if you came and watched me fight, and you still wanted to ask me out after that, you could. We’ve hooked up, like, three times since then and you still haven’t asked me out.”

  “I thought the sex counted as dates.”

  He made a little noise, a miniscule laugh. “Jesus. Just ask me to go out to dinner or something, somewhere besides here or the gym. Or if you don’t want to, tell me now so I know where I stand. I’m happy to be your fuckbuddy, Laurel, but I’m not afraid of gettin’ attached to you either. I’m a pretty simple creature.”

  She stared at the wall, unsure what to say or do or think.

  “I’m not afraid of angry pricks kicking the shit out of me,” Flynn said. “And I’m not afraid of you.” He shifted, breaking their damp, sticky bond to turn her onto her back. His hand held her jaw and a thumb stroked her cheek. He brought his face down and kissed her mouth, light and sweet.

  Through the rush of her quickening breath and her pounding heart, Laurel formed words, thick and fearful. “Would you like to get something to eat next week?”

  He laughed. “Sure.”

  “Wednesday? At seven? Lucky’s, on Congress?”

  “Sure,” he said again.

  “And maybe afterward we could come back here and not have sex.”

  “Sounds fucking sensational,” Flynn said, pulling her tight against him so she felt his hardening cock. “Can’t wait to not have sex with you.”

  “Clearly.” She swallowed, wanting to embrace the fresh wave of excitement but still distracted by the gears tic
king between her ears.

  “You got your force field switched on again,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “You said before you like how when we fuck, you don’t have to be in control of anything.”

  She nodded.

  “Let me give that to you again. Now. Let me be in charge.”

  “Maybe.”

  She sucked in a breath as his mouth closed over hers, a taste of that tempting offer. She shut off her mind, melted into what he was giving. Then a stray thought cut through the haze—a truce.

  She pulled away. “If you start wearing a mouth guard, I’ll start looking for engineering jobs.”

  His eyes flicked back and forth between hers. “Oh yeah? That a promise?”

  “Yeah.” She ran her hands down his body, cupped her hand over his cock. She watched his face in the low light, loving that familiar glaze to his eyes, the heaviness in his lids. “Not, like, next week. But soon.”

  “You keep busting my balls and I might just trick you into sticking around.”

  She laughed, embarrassed and flattered. Relieved.

  “But don’t worry, not ’til we get better at not having sex.”

  “That might take awhile,” Laurel said, tightening her hold.

  He grunted. “Yeah, probably. So don’t worry, you’re safe for a couple years at least. Now how about it? Let me give you what you need. Let me take you out of your head for a few minutes.”

  12

  Flynn went to his closet, returning to the bed with a short length of rope in each hand. He knelt at Laurel’s feet, staring until her eyes left the ropes to meet his.

  “You trust me?”

  She gave it a second’s serious thought, already knowing the answer. “Yes. I do.”

  “You want this?”

  She nodded.

  “Sit up.”

  She did. She let Flynn bind her ankles, tie her wrists behind her back—real this time, no way out. He linked her arms with enough slack that when she lay back down her fists rested at her sides, the rope between them pulled taut beneath her ass. She tested the bindings and felt a scary thrill from the sensation, true physical helplessness. The bite of the rope as she tugged was taunting, as cruel as the heat in Flynn’s eyes. His knees were spread wide between her own, hands kneading her thighs. One left to move to his cock, stroking until he was stiff and ready. His gaze roamed from her pussy to her belly to her breasts, up her throat, stopping at her lips. His body followed, strong legs straddling her chest and pinned arms. He angled his cock to her mouth and brushed it across her lips.

  “Taste me.”

  She laved him, savoring his excitement. He held himself there and she teased his slit, sucked his swollen head until she earned a moan.

  “Fuck, that’s so hot. You want more?”

  She answered with suction, wrapping her lips tight around him.

  “I’m gonna fuck your mouth,” he whispered. “If I do something you can’t handle, use your teeth. You know, gentle—but you let me know.”

  She freed her mouth enough to say, “I will.”

  He leaned over, braced one arm at the top of the mattress, guided his cock with the other hand. He adjusted his knees until he got the distance right.

  She took what he gave her, four thick inches, sucking as his hips slid him out, then back in, setting the pace. She wanted her hands free to touch his body but accepted the frustration, made it part of the thrill. Flynn wrapped a fist around his base, either to keep from thrusting too deep or give himself pleasure, perhaps both.

  “That’s so good. Keep taking me. Moan for me.”

  She obeyed, offering a deep, thrumming noise as he fucked her mouth. He worked himself deeper a half an inch at a time and Laurel kept the suction hard, finding it eased the gagging. Flynn’s hand moved to his balls. He squeezed and rubbed, making Laurel ache to touch him. She reveled in the warm weight of his thighs against her arms, the presence and energy of him.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Take my cock. Suck me.” He put his hand to her face, her temple, her hair. His thrusts came slow, deeper, deeper still until his head bumped the back of her throat, triggering a protest. He pulled out and rested back on his haunches.

  “I like seein’ you tied up, sweetheart.”

  Heat bloomed in her chest at those words. “Good. Do you want me to pretend I don’t want it?”

  “Not tonight. Right now I just want that look. Helpless and hungry.”

  He leaned over to grab a condom off the shelf. She watched him roll it down his cock, her body tightening as she studied all that hard muscle, hers by some filthy miracle.

  “God, you look amazing,” she whispered.

  “You like my body?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. I like when you take care of me,” he said. “And I love fucking you more than you can possibly know. You make my cock feel so fucking big when you look at me like that.” He turned her by the hip, coaxed her legs to the side, bent, shoulders still mostly on the mattress. He planted his knees wide behind her ass, a hot palm on her hip as the other hand stroked his erection.

  “Fuck me, Flynn.”

  “When I’m ready.”

  “Please. Now.” She licked her lips, so eager to feel him drive inside and ease the hunger.

  He teased his tip up and down the crack of her ass. The hand on her hip slid between her thighs, big fingers finding her wet, getting slick before they rubbed her clit, pinching the hard nub, giving her that mix of pleasure and pain he was so good at.

  “I want your cock, Flynn.”

  “Be patient.” Wet fingers toyed with her folds, taunted with shallow exploration.

  “Fuck patient. Give me your cock.”

  “Fine.” Threat, not surrender.

  She watched his face, stern and calm as he smeared her wetness between her thighs then all up and down his shaft. “Fine,” he said again, barely audible.

  Laurel gasped at the heat of him. Each thick inch pushed between her thighs, drove hard into her pussy until he had no more to give. He held there a full minute, letting her feel him throb and twitch, making her wait.

  “C’mon, Flynn, please.”

  “Turn onto your side.”

  She shifted her shoulders, facing the wall. His dick slid out, all the way out, then rammed back in to the hilt.

  “God, yes—”

  A mean tug on the rope binding her wrists stole her breath. It pulled her arms back, tweaked her top shoulder and sent a little burst of pain like static shock straight down to her fingertips.

  “Don’t rush me,” he warned.

  “I need more.”

  Another tug, slow this time, stopping when Laurel gasped at the strain.

  “You know how I feel about impatience.”

  She held her tongue, relieved when he let the rope go. His hands grasped her hip and waist, kept her still as he started to fuck.

  He kept his composure a few moments before a harsh, hissing breath told Laurel the pleasure was undermining all that cold control.

  “God, I fucking love your cunt.”

  She squeezed herself tighter around him, earning a fierce grunt, then a hard slap on the ass.

  “Keep it tight like that,” he ordered.

  Laurel obeyed, making her pussy a fist, intensifying the pleasure for both of them. He spanked her again.

  “Flynn.”

  “That’s right. Say my name. Tell me who’s fucking that tight cunt.”

  “Flynn.” Each time she said it, his palm came down with another slap. By the tenth strike the sting turned savage, teetering on the threshold between pleasure and true pain. She winced, held his name back, unsure if she could expect another slap for disobeying.

  Instead she felt a tug at the bindings. She steeled herself for the punishment, but after a few seconds’ fumbling her wrists were free, the rope gone. Flynn’s cock left her and she flexed her fingers, circulation returning as he moved to untie her ankles. She turned onto her back and he knelt between her thi
ghs, spreading them wide, cock driving home.

  “Touch me,” he said.

  “Where?”

  “Anywhere.” He was frantic, all that cool self-possession gone, his face buried against her shoulder. “Just want your hands on me.”

  She slid one to his ass, fisted his hair in the other. She tugged until he brought his head back and she kissed him, rough, ending with a little bite on his lower lip.

  “I wanna get fucked,” he moaned.

  “Yeah?”

  He flipped them over, lay back while Laurel found her balance, straddling his hips. She fanned her fingers over his ribs, knowing he could handle her weight as she took charge of the sex.

  “God, yeah. Use me, sweetheart.”

  They fell nearly silent, lost in each other’s bodies. A slideshow of emotions flashed across his face—need, pleasure, desperation, then warm and unmistakable fondness. He smiled up at Laurel, looking drunk.

  “What?”

  “You mean what you said? About looking for jobs?”

  “Yeah.”

  He made a greedy noise and grinned, hands guiding her hips for a handful of thrusts.

  “And maybe after another month or two and a fresh pair of blood tests,” she added, “you might get that other wish of yours.” She clenched her pussy tight and gave his cock slow, long pulls, imagining how he’d feel, releasing inside her, bare.

  He grabbed her waist and moaned, pushing deep.

  She watched his eyes close, his face turn helpless. And she wanted him. Wanted to be here to patch him up, to call him on his bullshit and get called out in return, to explore the darker depths of her mind and body with this patient, real, occasionally obnoxious man.

  “I love when you look this defenseless,” she murmured.

  His voice was shallow and scratchy. “Not many women ever manage to get me on my back.”

  “You better keep me around then.”

  “Why d’you think I was so keen to tie you down?” The words hitched with his uneven breaths. “Fuck, Laurel.”

  The sound of her name—those two choked syllables rising from his throat as he gave her all the power… It felt like a filthy, sacred proclamation. She stared at his strained face. Fall in love with me.

  “Laurel.”