by Rebecca York
Whirling back to him, she ordered, “Now take off your clothes, and lie down.”
With her breath frozen in her lungs, she waited to see what would happen.
When Zach started to pull his tee shirt over his head, she let the captive breath trickle out.
He turned away from her, and when he tossed his shirt onto the chair, she admired the taut muscles of his broad back and nicely shaped arms. When he shucked off his jeans and briefs, she looked at his very masculine butt with appreciation. But she kept her voice hard and commanding in keeping with the role she had set herself to play.
“Lie down.”
He hesitated a moment, then did as she asked, and she saw what she had only felt earlier—his cock was taut with arousal.
“Well, you’re hard as a fencepost. I see I’ll have something to work with,” she said in a conversational tone.
Ignoring his strangled exclamation, she moved toward the edge of the bed and looked down at him. “Put your arms out to the sides,” she said sternly. “The way I told you I wanted them.”
He did, but not to their full extension, as though he was afraid to trust her all the way.
“Farther, she ordered,” and he slowly did her bidding until he looked like a sacrificial victim.
His eyes were wary. “What are you going to do?” he asked in a taut voice.
“Hum, perhaps you should have an honorary gag over your mouth, too. I don’t plan to explain myself. And I don’t want you to speak unless I give you permission.”
He gave her a doubtful look but pressed his lips together.
“Nice. Very nice,” she murmured. “Do you know, you are so sexy like that? And vulnerable. And you’ll just have to wait to see what I have in mind. But first I think we need a little more light to make it easier for both of us to enjoy what I’m doing.”
He started to speak again, but she gave him a warning look, and he firmed his lips once more. Walking to the desk, she turned on that one lamp, then returned to the bed. Looking down at him, she said, “Remember, I told you how important it is for a man and a woman to communicate what works for each of them.” Smiling, she added, “It’s convenient that you let me know what you like to look at.” As she spoke, she reached to the placket at the front of her dress and began opening the buttons. She knew his gaze was glued to her busy fingers. When she had opened the bodice just above her waist, she pushed the fabric out of the way on either side, exposing her breasts with their tight, aroused tips. Arching her back, she lifted the mounds in her hands, then stroked them, hearing Zach make a muffled moan as he watched.
Smiling again, she circled her taut nipples with her fingers, then squeezed and tugged at them, watching the hungry expression on his face.
“Mm, that feels exciting,” she whispered, thinking that it was a good thing she couldn’t reach orgasm just from breast stimulation.
She stood there for another few moments, torturing herself and Zach. When she eased onto the bed, she heard him draw in a strangled breath.
“I think I know what you’d like me to do, but you’re going to have to wait for that,” she purred as she stroked her fingers over his shoulders, then combed through the hair on his chest before finding his nipples and doing what she had done to herself, wringing a gasp from him.
Before he could enjoy that too much, she glided her hand lower, over his ribs, then his abdomen. His muscles jumped under her fingers. And when she bypassed his cock and ran her nails up one thigh, he made a pleading sound.
She went up on her knees then, pulling the dress up to her waist, showing him that she was naked underneath as promised.
Gathering the skirt up with one hand, she used the other to play with the blond hair at the juncture of her legs, then slid her hand a little lower. But she stayed away from her clit because she was too close to the edge to risk touching herself there.
Lifting one shoulder, she said sweetly, “You know, all this fabric is in the way.” Then, slowly, tantalizingly slowly, she eased her arms out of the sleeves, pulled the dress over her head and tossed it onto the floor.
“Lord, this is making me hot,” she said, arching her back, lifting her hair off her shoulders and letting it fall back, aware that his gaze was following every move she made and knowing she was probably driving him mad—because she knew the effect this was having on herself.
When she reached out and delicately glided one finger along the length of his red, swollen cock, she saw his hands grab at the sheet. She couldn’t meet his gaze then. Because if she did, she’d let herself give in to the pleading look in his eyes and the harsh sound of his breathing.
Instead she continued with the teasing stroking of one finger, before taking him delicately in her fist, moving up and down the shaft in a way she was pretty sure would drive him toward completion.
And her, too. Because she didn’t know how much more of this she could take. Teasing him, touching him like this was almost more than she could stand.
Leaning over, she stroked him with her tongue, hearing his strangled exclamation. From the corner of her eye, she saw his hands twist at the sheet. When she took him into her mouth, he made a low animal sound.
Using her lips and tongue, she pushed him farther—pushed him toward the point of no return. And she knew she had him close to the edge. She could feel him trembling. Feel him straining not to lift his hips off the mattress as she pleasured him.
All the signs were there. He was close to orgasm. And when she knew he was poised on the fine edge of release, she suddenly changed the rules—straddling him so that she could bring his rock-hard erection inside her.
She raised her head then, saw his look of shock as she began to move.
Seconds later, he came, his shout of triumph rocketing through the room. She was almost as far gone as he. Leaning forward, she pressed her clit against him, moving frantically until she followed him over the edge, her own triumph soaring through her.
She hadn’t given him permission to move. But he gathered her to him, pulling her down, sprawling her on top of him as he kissed her and stroked his hands over her back and hips.
“Amanda, oh Lord, Amanda,” he whispered. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
She kissed his cheek. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Closing her eyes, she drifted on a warm wave of contentment as he clasped her to him.
When she felt a chuckle rumble in his chest, she raised her head and looked at him inquiringly.
“Very clever of you, you little witch.”
“I thought that naughty little game might be the right way to go. Something entirely different—where I was entirely in charge.”
“Yeah. And not telling me what you had planned for the grand finale.” He continued to caress her, then turned and nibbled his lips against her cheek before reaching to switch on one of the bedside lights.
When their eyes had adjusted, he smoothed back a lock of blond hair that had fallen across her forehead.
He stayed beside her for several moments longer, then eased away, walking to the end of the bed and retrieving the covers. After pulling them over her, he picked up the glasses of champagne and climbed back into the bed.
He handed her a glass. “To us,” he whispered.
“Yes, to us.”
They both took a sip.
“I can taste it now,” she murmured.
He laughed. “Yeah. Before, it might as well have been vinegar.”
The intensity of his eyes told her he wanted to say something important, and her breath caught.
“Amanda, I love you. I feel like I’ve been waiting to say that for a hundred years. But I think you know why I couldn’t do it. Not until I fixed my problem. Or—you fixed it, actually.”
“Oh, Zach, I love you. I felt like I had to wait to say it, too.”
He reached for her hand and knitted his fingers with hers. “And you’re sure? I mean you . . .” he set down his glass and gestured with his free hand. “You got taken in by a guy
at Harmons.”
She nodded. “He put a lot of effort into fooling me. Not you. You were investigating me as a murder suspect.”
“Yeah.”
“That was a weird way to start off—but I think we were both too attracted to each other to turn away.”
“That was sure true for me.”
“I know sexual attraction is important. But there has to be a lot more to sustain a relationship. It didn’t take long to see all your good qualities. You were protective, competent, meticulous, and honest. It was you I called when I was in danger.”
“Thank God for that.” He dragged in a breath and let it out. “But I wasn’t honest about my problem.”
“What guy would want to start off a relationship telling a woman he couldn’t have an orgasm during intercourse?”
“Certainly not me.”
“But you told me—because you didn’t want to give up our relationship.
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t want to give it up either. Even when I knew you were hiding something from me.” She raised her gaze to his. “And now we’ll never be dishonest with each other.”
He tightened his fingers on hers. “Never.”
The moment held, until he said in a low voice, “So how would you feel about marrying me?”
She leaned closer and kissed the dark stubble along his jawline. “I was hoping you’d ask. But if we want to be sure, we can live together for a while longer—before we take the plunge.”
“As long as I know you’re with me. It’s a load off my mind to know we can be a normal couple. Thanks to you. I’m glad you thought of coming here tonight,” he murmured.
She laughed. “Both of us came, actually.”
“Yeah.”
He took another sip of champagne, then set down the glass and turned his head, nibbling his lips against her cheek, her ear. “Loving you makes all the difference,” he murmured. “I think that’s why your bondage game worked.”
“Oh Zach. Maybe that’s true.”
His expression changed, and she knew he was thinking of something serious.
“What?”
“Uh. . . before we get too carried away, do you remember that talk we had at the restaurant? Where I said I’d like to go back to the police force. How would you feel about that?” he asked.
He was sitting very still, waiting for her answer.
“I’d feel fine about it. I told you.”
“That was hypothetical. This is for real.”
“Zach, you and I are for real. It’s a real relationship. It’s going to be a real marriage, where we each give and take—and each be happy.”
He kissed her hair, her cheek. “The luckiest day of my life was the day I rang your doorbell.”
“And embarrassed the heck out of me. You know what I was doing—right?”
He laughed. “Well, I didn’t know for sure, until now.”
“Writing the column turned me on. I guess that’s an occupational hazard.”
“I don’t think you’re going to need that vibrator anymore.”
“I already tossed it in the trash, before I came up here.”
He raised up on one elbow and looked down at her. “You were certain things were going to work out?”
“I wanted them to. More than anything. That’s why I had to come here tonight and play out that scenario.” She swallowed. “You know it was hard for me to do all that?”
“I could tell.”
“Um hum.”
“You’ll never make a dominatrix. You were too adorable.”
“I’ll show you adorable.” She raised her fist, but he grabbed her arm and brought it back under the covers. “Don’t tell me you weren’t . . . apprehensive,” she demanded.
“Okay. I was worried.”
“Good. You were supposed to be.”
“The point is, I liked it. And it worked.”
She swallowed. “Yes.” Then, because she was determined to be honest, she added, “You introduced me to facets of my sexuality that I would never have discovered on my own. If you hadn’t showed me there were all kinds of inventive ways to make love, I never could have pulled off that act a few minutes ago.”
“Right. I was inventive because I was desperate to make love with you—any way I could.”
“Any way. All ways,” she answered. “But I’m glad we solved your problem. Because I know it was bothering you. And it would have kept eating at you—even if I kept assuring you that it didn’t matter.”
“So you devised a week of torture for us both.”
“I figured that the hornier we got, the more chance we had of success. Only we didn’t make it through a week.”
“Horny. That’s a nice, scientific way to put it, Dr. O’Neal.”
“I’m rather proud of my deductive reasoning skills.”
They grinned at each other. She hadn’t felt this good in years.
“Well, I think that we’d better test your hypothesis, to make sure it’s not a one-time deal.”
“I’m sure it’s not.”
“Good. Because we’re going to have a little role reversal.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, afraid she already knew the answer.
“This time, you’re the one who gets tied to the bed. Honorary bonds of course. Put your hands out to the sides, and don’t move them unless I give you permission. And maybe for this round, I’ll put a pillow under your hips, and you’ll wear an honorary blindfold, too.”
THE END
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A Note to Readers
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If you enjoyed Bedroom Therapy, you may also enjoy books in the
DECORAH SECURITY SERIES
Book 1. On Edge (a Decorah Security prequel novella)
Book 2. Dark Moon (a novel)
Book 3. Chained (a novella)
Book 4. Ambushed (a short story)
Book 5. Dark Powers (a novel)
Book 6. Hot and Dangerous (a short story)
Book 7. At Risk (a novel)
Book 8. Christmas Captive (a novella)
Book 9. Destination Wedding (a novella)
Book 10. Rx Missing (a novel)
Book 11. Hunting Moon (a novel)
Book 12 Terror Mansion (a novella)
Book 13. Outlaw Justice (a novella)
Book 14. Found Missing (a novel)
Book 15. Preying Game (a novel)
Book 16. Boxed In (a novel)
Book 17. Hollow Moon (a novella)
Decorah Security Collection (an anthology including Ambushed, Hot and Dangerous, Chained, and Dark Powers)
Another Rebecca York series you may enjoy:
OFF-WORLD SERIES
Book 1. Hero's Welcome (an off-world series short story)
Book 2. Nightfall (an off-world series novella)
Book 3. Conquest (an off-world series short story)
Book 4. Assignment Danger (an off-world novella)
Book 5. Christmas Home (an off-world short story)
Book 6. Firelight Confession (an off-world novella)
Off-World Collection (includes Nightfall, Hero’s Welcome, and Conquest)
###
Published by Light Street Press
Copyright © 2018 by Ruth Glick
Cover design by Earthly Charms<
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An earlier version of this book was published by Harlequin Blaze
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
PREVIEW TWO CHAPTERS OF BOXED IN
(BOOK #16, DECORAH SECURITY SERIES)
BY REBECCA YORK
Ruth Glick writing as Rebecca York
Prologue
“Let’s run through the drill again. The first rule is—do not hesitate to kill. The second rule—do not open the box under any circumstances.”
Mr. Smith spoke quietly as he issued his final orders to the other two thieves.
Mr. Jones and Mr. Brown picked up their handguns from the bedside tables and checked the magazines. Then they returned to their seats on the hotel room sofa and chair and focused on their leader.
All three men were of medium height, their well-toned muscles giving them the look of bionic soldiers.
All three had dark eyes and olive skin. The oldest of the trio, Mr. Smith, had close-cropped hair shot through with gray. Mr. Jones had thick black hair that was slicked back from his wide forehead. And Mr. Brown was as bald as a cannonball.
Their names were convenient fictions, of course, chosen to help them blend into the Baltimore urban landscape. None of them was an American citizen, but each had a driver’s license, credit cards and a medical insurance card to prove that he had been born in the States and resided here.
In reality, they would be in the country only long enough to complete their mission—to steal the priceless antique box they had been hired to acquire. They would be leaving the hotel suite soon, and suppressed excitement thickened the air.