Matzoh and Mistletoe

by Jodie Griffin

  Shock painted itself across his face, followed by the charming, sexy grin she’d grown to love. “You’re coming home with me tonight.”

  She smiled up at him. “Okay.”

  In one quick movement he stood, pulling her to her feet. “Get what you need for the next few days.” He swatted her on the ass and pointed her toward the bedroom. “Go.”

  She went as ordered, but glanced back over her shoulder. “What are you looking for?”

  “Your laundry room.”

  “Uh, okay. The door to the right of the kitchen table.” She heard the telltale squeak of it, then a thud and muted fuck. She winced. “Oh. Watch your head.”

  His voice trailed down the hallway. “Gee, thanks for the warning, troublemaker.”

  She was in her room at her dresser when he came in wearing a wicked grin, rubbing his forehead, and carrying her now-empty duffel bag. “Remind me to spray paint that beam bright orange, okay?”

  The playfulness was pure Jeremy, and she loved it. She grinned at him and turned back to her drawer.

  “You won’t need any of those.”

  She looked down at her hand. Underwear. “Excuse me?”

  “When we get to my house, you’ll be naked except for what I give you to wear.”

  She laughed. “Oh, really?”

  He smiled, and it was both stern and playful at the same time. “Really. Put them back in the drawer.”

  Her heart started racing, but in a good way. A really good way. Her hand trembled slightly as she put the panties down and closed the drawer. “So what should go in my bag, if I’m not packing underwear?”

  “Hmmm. I have a spare toothbrush at home. So unless you need anything else—medicine, whatever—I guess you can just leave it here.”

  She raised her brow. “Can I at least pack something to wear home? Something I haven’t been wearing all day while traipsing around in the woods?”

  He grinned, full out. “I’ll give you that. And yes, before you ask, you can also have a pair of clean underwear to wear home.”

  “Thank God.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Half an hour later they were back at Jeremy’s house and true to his word, he’d pulled the blinds and then stripped off her clothes, leaving her standing in the middle of his living room, naked as the day she was born, with a warning not to move.

  And then he disappeared into his bedroom.

  “Jeremy?”

  He didn’t answer, but she could hear him doing something in the bedroom. He came back out a few minutes later, his eyes dancing. In his hand, he held a long strip of black cloth.

  “I’m going to blindfold you.”

  Her pulse stuttered. “Okay.”

  “I want you to use your safe word if you want me to stop what I’m doing. What is it?”

  “Red.”

  “Good girl.”

  She loved those two words, said in Jeremy’s sexy voice. He wound the cloth around her eyes twice and everything went dark, but she wasn’t alone. He was with her, his hands all over her. It didn’t take long before she was shivering, not with cold but with need.

  He took her by the hand and led her forward, presumably into his bedroom. It smelled like him, that scent she now craved, and she inhaled deeply.

  He sat her down on something soft yet firm, and then guided her back until she was prone. Chair and ottoman, she figured by the slight difference in height and the gap between the two.

  “Do. Not. Move.”

  She lay there, waiting, listening for any sound to tell her what he was up to. She heard a whisper of something, but she couldn’t put a name to it.

  He picked up one hand and wrapped something around her wrist, something soft yet tight. She went to touch it with her free hand but he grabbed it before she could. “Oh, I don’t think so, kitten.”

  She huffed.

  He laughed, and put her wrapped hand straight up in the air. “Leave it there. If it gets too uncomfortable, tell me.” Then he did the same wrapping deal on her other wrist, and lifted it, as well. He fiddled with something, and she heard a small click. Then something slithered across her naked stomach.

  She jumped and let out a small squeak. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving as though she’d been out running.

  “Easy, babe. You’re safe. Trust me.” He slipped something between her wrists and then she felt her arms stretch. “Relax your arm muscles.”

  She did as he said and they didn’t drop but stayed up over her head. She didn’t know how, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—until he stretched them the tiniest bit more. “Ow!”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” A second later, the ache eased. Her arms were still stretched, but not painfully so. “Better?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I don’t want you in pain.” His voice came closer, next to her ear. “Emotional or physical. I’m so sorry about making you worry I didn’t want you. Nothing could be further from the truth, even though I kept drawing things out, making you wait.”

  It was almost easier to talk about this blindfolded. Even though she couldn’t see his face—or maybe because she couldn’t see his face—she heard the raw honesty in his words. “Tell me why.”

  “As a dominant, as your Dom, all decisions about sex are mine unless you use your safe word. We’ve talked about that before. When, where, how often, and even how. I decide if I want to use my mouth to make you come, or my cock. I decide if I’m going to let you come, period.”

  No kidding. She’d learned that first hand at the cabin. He’d pulled back before she came so many times she’d thought she’d scream. Had screamed, and he’d laughed that evil laugh that only made her hotter and wetter.

  He continued. “And I decide if I’m going to come, or not. I wanted you then, kitten, and I want you now. Make no mistake about that. I claimed your mouth in your living room. I claimed your orgasms in that cabin. Tonight, I’m going to claim you in exactly the way I’ve imagined claiming you, in my home and in my bed, for the past five years. How I want, when I want, where I want. Unless you safe word out.”

  She said the first and only thing that came to the mind that was now as aroused and desperate as the body. “Yes, please.”

  * * *

  Sweeter words had never been spoken, and Becca’s husky voice was sexy as sin. “Soon, babe. But I’m not done yet.” He wanted to hurry, but he also wanted to savor every moment of the scene he’d imagined for years. He stood and admired his handiwork. He’d pulled his armchair and ottoman in front of his bed so he could take advantage of the hook in the ceiling to hold her arms taut. He ran his fingers under the soft rope he’d wound around her wrists, checking to make sure the rope cuffs hadn’t slipped. He didn’t want to cut off her circulation. “I wish you could see yourself. Your nipples are hard. And your face and chest are such a sexy shade of pink.” She didn’t say anything, so he reached out and touched her cheek. “You okay?”

  She licked her lips. “I...yes. God. So good.”

  He couldn’t hold back his grin, even though she wouldn’t see it. “Gonna get even better, sweet pea. Hang on.”

  He grabbed the rest of the rope, then moved to the foot of the ottoman and put his hands under her ass, moving the ottoman back against the chair and bringing her to the very edge of the stool. He ran his hands down her trembling legs, then used his hands to part them. The scent of her, that tempting, Christmas cookie scent of her, teased his nose but he focused on his task first.

  This was one of the things she’d said she wanted—being bound—and he was glad to be able to give it to her. He wrapped the last of the rope to her ankles then tied them to the feet on the ottoman. Her legs were spread wide, giving him the perfect view of her glistening curls and the fine tremors making her stomach quiver.

  Through it all, she remained quiet except for her rasping breath and the occasional soft moan. She might be uncertain about whether or not she was submissive at heart, but he wasn’t. Seeing her reactions to the type of play they’
d done so far, he was pretty sure she’d come around to the idea of more involved scenes. He’d waited five long years for her. He could wait for that, too, but even if she never went further than this level in her submission to him, he could live with it.

  “You’re like a feast, all laid out for me like this. I think it’s my turn for dessert.” She blushed at the reminder of what she’d said a few days ago when he’d come in her mouth, and the color moved all the way up her body. He reached for what he’d set out on the bed earlier, grabbing one in his hand. “But first, I think you need some decorations. It is still the Christmas season, after all.”

  She laughed, but it died in her throat as he bit down on one nipple. He got it good and wet and tortured and then he put a clothespin on it. She nearly shot out of the chair as she strained against her bindings. “Oh, God. What was that?”

  “Not yet,” he teased. “I’ll show you after I’m done.”

  She let out a frustrated sound.

  He just laughed. “Patience, kitten.” He moved to the other side and performed the same ministrations on that nipple. He had clamps, real ones, but these wooden clothespins were one of his favorite pervertables. He tongued her nipple and bit it, and then he clamped the next clothespin on it.

  “Jeremy!”

  He grinned. As she writhed on the chair, he squeezed her breasts and slapped them lightly, and then he tugged at the clothespins, not enough to pull them off, but enough to make them sting.

  She started begging. “Oh, please. Please, please, please.”

  The sound went right to his cock, which pushed painfully against his zipper. But he didn’t take his jeans off, not yet, because once he did, he’d be inside her, and he wanted to draw this out.

  He stopped playing with the clothespins and let them sit. Her breath heaved in and out and the clothespins wobbled with each breath. It was crude but it was erotic, and he had one more he wanted to use on her.

  “Soon, kitten. Soon.” He knelt on the floor between her spread legs. The temptation was to go right for her sweet core, but he made himself wait. He licked a path from her stomach to the edge of her curls, then moved to her legs. He dragged his tongue up the inside of one quivering thigh, again stopping just short of heaven.

  She banged her head back against the chair. “Jeremy, please.”

  “Oh, trust me. It’s my pleasure.” He moved to her other leg, starting at the tender spot on the side of her knee, and licking and nibbling his way up her thigh again. “Or did you mean this?”

  With those words, he parted her folds and, for the very first time, tasted the essence of the woman who’d occupied his brain and heart for the better part of five years. Five long, fucking years. He tongued her and she arched up, a low keening moan coming from deep inside.

  To his utter shock, he felt his throat grow tight. He’d wanted her at his mercy like this for so long, and she was so willing and brave and beautiful. His hands grasped her hips and he doubled his efforts, trying to make her lose control. He hadn’t ordered her to hold back her orgasms, although someday he would. Not yet, though. He wanted her to own the power of them.

  But first, he wanted her to fly apart under his hands and his mouth.

  She needed more stimulation, so he pulled out the last clothespin and squeezed it open, setting it against her swollen clit.

  She screamed. “Oh God, oh God. Please. Please. Please.”

  He plunged a finger inside her and her heat singed him. He curled it forward and stroked the sensitive bundle of nerves inside and she started thrashing her head back and forth on the chair. As his way eased, he added a second finger, opening them wide to tease her. She began to clench around him, a sign of her impending orgasm. He fucked her with his fingers, and with his free hand, he tugged at the clothespin on her clit. He bit her thigh and removed the pin and she bowed upward, coming with such force the chair creaked.

  He pressed his straining cock against the ottoman, trying to stave off his own orgasm. He continued to pet her until she calmed, then removed the sweaty blindfold from her eyes. She blinked at him, dazed. When he stood to take off his clothes, he yanked a pillow off his bed and set it under her head. He kissed her, smoothing her hair. “How are you doing, kitten?”

  She let out a sound so like a purr he had to laugh, but it came out more like a groan. “I’ll take that as a good thing, but we’re not done yet. I have to be inside you, Rebeccah.”

  “Oh, yes, please.”

  His hands shook as he put the condom on. Fuck the bed. He was done. He needed her now, and he didn’t want to waste even the minute it would take to unhook her and move them to the bed. He got back on his knees at the foot of the ottoman and quickly released her legs from the rope. He nudged her entrance with his cock and then he was inside her, buried to the hilt with one long push. Without any direction from him, she drew her knees up and hooked her ankles around his back. “Look at me, kitten. I need to see your eyes.”

  It took a moment of fluttering but then her eyes were open and she was looking down her body to where they were joined. “Oh, God. Clothespins?”

  A ragged laugh broke free. He’d forgotten, but he remembered now. He flicked them with his fingers and her eyes went wide. “They look hot on you.” He tugged at them as he fucked her, and when he could tell she was at the edge herself, he yanked them off, burying himself deep inside her.

  She locked eyes with him and he was lost. Utterly, completely, irrevocably lost.

  * * *

  Becca lay in Jeremy’s bed, spooned by him, his strong arms wrapped tightly around her. God in heaven, she’d had no idea it could be like this, none. There’d been no fear as Jeremy had bound her, only desperate need. She hadn’t felt controlled, she’d felt freed, freer than she’d ever felt in her entire life. And having him inside her, finally, had been sweeter than she’d ever imagined.

  Sam had never made her feel like this, not even in the early days during the few months they’d dated, or in the beginning of their marriage when things were still good. She hated thinking about Sam now, but it was hard not to, not when he’d shown up at her door like he had. The differences between the two men had been glaringly obvious. Sam’s attitude was still just as contentious as ever, while Jeremy stood by her side in silent support. She’d seen that protective side of him over the years on their ride-alongs, but she’d never imagined it would be on her behalf. She hoped the rumors of Sam moving were true, but only time would tell.

  Jeremy stirred behind her and she rolled over, facing him. She wasn’t sure if what she felt for him was love. She thought so, but she wouldn’t pressure him. It was what it was and it was good. No, incredible. With that thought in her head, she placed her hand on his chest. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

  He grinned. She loved that look on his face, that bad-boy-with-a-good-heart grin. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to crash on you.”

  She giggled. “I crashed on you yesterday. That’s what you called it, right? Crashing?”

  His smile went into his expressive eyes. “Yeah.” He reached out and tweaked her still-sensitive nipples. She let out a small squeak when she realized she was naked from the waist up, lying here like there was nothing unusual about it. She grabbed for the blankets, but he threw them back, out of her reach, baring all of her.

  He flipped her so she was flat on her back and he was leaning over her, his lips mere millimeters from hers. He kissed her, all sexy and hot until she felt like she was going to burst into flames. “Hi there.”

  She grinned, albeit shakily. “Hi.”

  He settled his body next to hers and pulled her close. She snuggled into him, incredibly content. But his body tensed, and she frowned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Bec, why didn’t you let me know you were divorced?”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “What was I supposed to do? Call you and say Oh, hey Jeremy. I’m divorced. Wanna mess around? I didn’t know if you were seeing anyone. I didn’t even know if you were interested.”


  “Fucking waste.”

  He’d said that in his patrol car the other day, and she hadn’t understood, but she thought she did now. “You mean a waste of time we could’ve been together?”

  “Yeah. Nine months. Not that I’m counting or anything.”

  She bit her lip. “I needed to work through some things first. I wasn’t trying to keep it from you.”

  “Shit, I know that, kitten. But do you know why I’ve worked every Christmas and Easter for the past five years?”

  “I... You said it was because you’re single.”

  His mouth quirked. “Well, it might’ve started out that way, but every single one? I’m not that nice a guy. I worked them because I hoped you’d be there, and I pulled strings to make sure the only cop you rode with was me. I couldn’t have you any other way, and I was damned if I wouldn’t have you that way. It’s a long fucking time between Easter and Christmas, in case you’re wondering.”

  Her heart clenched. “Oh, Jeremy.”

  “What I need to know now is if you want to keep moving forward. These last few days have been fucking amazing, and I really care about you, Rebeccah, but if this isn’t what you want, I’ll step back.”

  She was humbled by the look of insecurity in his eyes, but still, she smacked him on the chest. “Seriously? You try it, Officer Kohler, and I’ll hunt you down and tie you up.” His eyes stayed serious and she relented. She knew he meant it. He’d walk away if he had to, to keep her from being hurt. “Why do you think I always came back? You draw me to you, Jeremy. Your strength, your caring, your sense of humor and your sense of honor. You made me see what was missing in my own life.”

  He still looked worried. “I hate to think I’m the reason your marriage didn’t work.”

  She shook her head. “That’s something I needed to work out, too. Even without you in the picture, I’d have left him. I loved my husband, but he changed over the years. Our marriage was doomed for a long time, but I was in too much denial to accept it. Until that day...”