by Violet Heart
She gave him a languid stroke, her fingers wrapped in a firm grip around his girth. "No," she whispered as the answering machine in the master bedroom at the far end of the apartment pealed a loud beep to activate the recording function.
"Thank God," he grated, his abs so tense the muscles stood in neat, deep ridges.
The man was too sexy for his own good. Standing, she crawled beside him and kneeled at his hip. She placed a hand on his knee. "Are you comfortable?"
"No. Touch me, climb on top of me, do something, would ya? I'm dying here."
His pained expression moved her to test his lines. They had plenty of give so she bent to his ear and whispered, "I'm not going to caress you. I'm not going to climb onto you. I'm going to lick you." Kissing his earlobe, she smiled as he shuddered.
"Please," he breathed.
She turned her attention to his hard-on, now nearly purple and so rigid it pointed at her as if in invitation. She kissed the tip and accepted the reward of a pearly, salty droplet. Swirling the tip of her tongue around the head, she loved the feel of the incredibly smooth skin. Wrapping her lips around him, just under the edge, she gave a gentle suck.
He cried out. His elbows flexed outward, proving he had good movement within the ropes, and she sucked again. His body curled, his head fell back, and when his knees rocked toward his chest, he cried out again. Reaching between his legs, she eased two fingers between the knots and grazed her fingertips along the flexing skin and crisp hairs while gently sucking.
"My God!" Quieter, he said, "You're going to make me come."
Releasing him, she asked, "What are you waiting for?" She couldn't wait. She'd heard Kathy tell so many times of Stanley coming in her mouth, and Melony wanted to experience it.
He lifted his head. "Let me see."
She frowned. "See what?"
"I want to see your luscious lips around me. Let me watch."
His eyes, red-rimmed with the effort to hold back, pleaded with her. Her heart responded, going out to him, and she cupped his cheek and nodded.
"You're so damned beautiful," he said, his voice rough with passion.
Keeping her gaze locked with his, she left the bed, inserted her head between his legs, and took him in. His mouth opened slightly as she sent her tongue once around his head then took more. She slid her lips along his length, down until his tip pressed the back of her throat, then returned to the head. Repeating it, she maintained eye contact and formed a rhythm close to the one he had set earlier.
When his chest rose and fell with labored breaths, she reached around his hip and took one of his nipples. She gently tugged. She caressed her other hand to his knee and rocked. The first rock made his entire body quake. The second formed a sheen of perspiration across his forehead, and his eyes focused so intently on her face she thought he could see inside her. On the third, she took him as deep as she could while gently swallowing.
He bared his teeth on a grimace, squeezed his eyes closed, then arched. His head went to the sheets. Melony held her breath as his cock jerked, shooting hot cum down her throat. Watching him lost in ecstasy, pleasure ripped through her, filling her chest and belly with butterflies. Moisture seeped out between her legs, but for once, she didn't have an inclination to do anything about it. She enjoyed being turned on by the sight of his handsome face in the throes of passion.
When he relaxed, she experienced the most incredible sense of peace and accomplishment. He seemed content, in a state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, so she worked at removing the ropes without his help. She tossed the bonds to the floor, kicked off her shoes, and convinced him to turn so his head lay on a pillow. She cuddled against him. Before she had them covered with the sheet, his eyes had closed and his breathing slowed.
She figured lunchtime approached, but a nap couldn't hurt. Not knowing what Monday would bring, or if she would ever have this chance again, she settled her head on his firm shoulder and relaxed.
Startled awake, Melony sat and blinked. It seemed she had closed her eyes a minute ago, but the wall clock told her she'd slept half an hour. There came a pounding at the door.
"Just a minute," she called. Had Kathy come because Melony hadn't answered the phone earlier?
She grabbed a throw off an armchair, draped it over her shoulders and scuffled toward the kitchen. Chip came from the opposite direction, glistening beads of water dotting his chest and arms and a towel covering his lower half. Disoriented from waking too fast, she glanced at the empty bed. At a third knock, her muddled brain remembered she had to answer the door.
"Melony!" called Frank, his angry voice stopping her in her tracks.
She shared an alarmed glance with Chip. He held up a hand to keep her from the door.
"Melony!" yelled Frank again. "I saw your car in the parking lot, so I know you're home. Open up before I break this door down!"
Chapter 11
"I'll answer it," Chip said, not appreciating the way Frank yelled at Melony.
"In a towel?" she hissed, drawing a creamy throw tighter around her shoulders.
"I hear you in there!" A loud bang made the door shudder.
Shaking his head, Chip said, "He sounds too angry. I don't want him near you."
She scowled. "He sounds worried, not angry. You don't know him. Besides, you're my slave, not my protector."
He went to the door and put his hand on the knob. "This isn't some game, Melony. He's serious." He opened the door, but it stopped when the safety chain pulled tight. "Now's not a good time," he told the biker.
Red faced and looking ready to break something, Frank gave him a once over. The huge man planted a hand on the door, and with a growl, shoved so hard he broke the chain. "Out of my way, shit head."
"Hey!" Chip grabbed the guy above a spiked wristband.
Frank yanked free and said, "Back off, asshole. I'm here for Melony."
"Like hell you are." Chip wouldn't let the bastard near her, much less take her out of the apartment. He hauled back and punched the biker between the eyes. "Aaah!" he cried, his knuckles exploding with pain.
"Stop!" Melony ran forward and took his hand, examining the quickly bruising joints. "You didn't have to do that."
"He ruined your door. You were next on his seek and destroy list." He stared at the man. The biker simply stood in the doorway. "He's not moving."
Melony went over and put a hand on his arm. "Frank?"
Chip grabbed her hand and tugged. "It could be a trick."
She frowned at an older woman passing by who slowed to look in, then turned and gave the man a shove. "Frank?"
Suddenly, the biker went over like a felled tree, his leather clothes creaking. The woman in the hall squeaked and made a beeline for the exit.
Melony put a hand over her mouth, horrified. "You killed him!" she accused.
Chip rolled his eyes. "I did not. I hit him hard. He deserved it." Squatting, he laid two fingers on the side of the guy's neck. A steady pulse pushed against the pads of his fingers. "He'll be fine. Go put on a robe or something."
"Don't tell me what to do." She shot him a suspicious look then turned on her heel and padded down the hall.
Readjusting the towel around his hips, he went to the sink and wet a dishcloth. He returned to Frank and dropped the sopping, cold square on his face. Nudging the biker in the ribs with his foot, he said, "Wake up."
The guy stirred then swiped the cloth off his face and sat up, sputtering. "You hit me."
"Damn right I hit you. You can't barge in here and threaten to take Melony. Are you out of your fuckin' mind?" He crossed his arms and silently challenged the man to start a fight, though Frank would probably beat him to within an inch of his life.
"I didn't threaten to take her," he denied, giving his head a quick shake then standing with a grunt.
Leaning forward a little, Chip said, "You broke her chain then said, 'I'm here for Melony.' She's not going anywhere with you."
Frank shook his head and pinched the bridg
e of his nose. "I meant I'm here to check on her. She didn't answer her phone and I don't know anything about you. You could've—"
"I'm an attorney." Chip took exception, insulted the guy would think him capable of who knew what. "I wouldn't hurt her."
"I know some pretty nasty lawyers."
"I'll just bet you do."
Frank chuckled. "Well, damn, boy. You pack a wallop for someone who works a pansy job."
Still on edge, but no longer worried the biker would take him out, he waved the man inside then swung the door shut. "Yeah, it's a pansy job until you need one of us to keep you out of jail."
The man gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder. "You got me there. What's your name?" He held out his hand.
"Chip Albemarle." He took it and accepted the firm handshake.
"Frank Zangotti. You're okay in my book, Chip."
"Why's that? 'Cause I hit you?"
"You knocked me out. That ain't something many have done…and lived to tell about." He grinned and winked, but Chip didn't think he joked. "No, you were looking out for Melony. That means a lot. That's why you're still standing there."
Melony came down the hall wearing a pale pink V neck T-shirt, faded blue jeans and clean white socks. "You boys seem to be getting along. Frank, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, sweetheart. Takes more than a lawyer to knock me off my game."
"Jackass," said Chip.
"Shit head," Frank laughed. He turned to Melony. "You didn't pick up when I called. I thought Chip might have hurt you. He's an okay guy, I think."
She smiled. "Yes, he's an okay guy, I think."
"Gee, thanks," Chip said and moved into the kitchen.
Leaning on the island, he drank in the sight of Melony as she reassured Frank and put up with the man's lecturing. She had her hair in a ponytail, all the curls gathered into a cluster like an upside down bouquet, except one, which had escaped to brush her jaw below her ear. Pale and slender, the nape of her neck called out for his kisses.
He liked her in casual clothes. She had looked stunning in business attire Friday. Since then, he'd only seen her in black dominatrix garb. Of the three, her casual appearance appealed to him most. It made her seem young, relaxed, real. With her dressed that way, he wanted to take her for a burger and a walk through the park. He could imagine a trip to the video store and stretching out together on the couch. Maybe a weekend camping trip, or a day-long bike ride through the country with a picnic lunch.
Jerking, he stood straight. Was he picturing a future with her? Dark and damaged psycho woman? Maybe he thought of her in those terms last night while locked to the bar, but after their incredible morning, he couldn't anymore. She was special. No doubt about it.
Lost in thought, he almost missed the fact that Melony had opened the door and stood bidding Frank farewell. "Wait a minute," Chip said, heading their way. "As fun as this has been, I've got to get back to my hotel room."
The biker sized him up. "You really want to go in just that towel?"
He touched fingers to the edge of the cloth. "I've got a suit around here somewhere."
Melony shook her head. "I took your clothes to the cleaners last night."
"You did what?" He didn't have any clothes? Not even underwear?
Frank chortled, apparently amused. "Sit tight, buddy. I'll get your stuff and check you out of the room." He headed out, walking toward the exit. "It's not like I've got anything else to do, since Melony won't let me watch her train you."
Chip popped his head around the doorframe, not about to go after the guy in a towel, in case more of her neighbors happened by. "Wait a minute! Don't do that."
Frank kept walking. "What do you need with a hotel room? You're going to be here for the next month." Then the large man passed through the exit and out of earshot.
Chip wanted to hit something, but his knuckles had taken enough abuse. "Damn it!" He went in and closed the door. Melony stood at a kitchen counter, dicing cooked chicken breasts on a cutting board. "What am I supposed to wear?" he asked.
"Your loincloth's in the playroom."
Playroom his ass. More like torture chamber. "Did you say loincloth?" She couldn't be serious.
She nodded. "Standard apparel for a slave. I ran some errands last night and picked up a couple for you. I washed them this morning before we got started." She scraped the chicken into a bowl and lined celery on the board.
"About that. I have a problem with you cuffing me to a bar then leaving me alone, naked and defenseless."
She stopped chopping and turned. "I didn't like doing it, but we needed some things. I hadn't planned on taking a new partner, much less an inductee. I wasn't prepared. I'll pick up your clothes from the cleaner on Monday, during my lunch break, and Frank will bring all your other things this afternoon. I'm sorry about all this. I really am." Sincerity gleamed from her soulful gaze.
He took a step toward her. "Look, do we really have to do this? I seemed to have made friends with Frank. I'm sure I can talk him into letting this all go. I don't need to stay here and inconvenience you." It hit him that he actually liked the idea of staying. All the other stuff, whips and cuffs and her calling him slave, he could do without.
She set down the knife and closed the gap between them. In a hushed voice, she told him, "Frank's not going to let you go. Don't think for a second he's your friend. He'd just as soon kill you. If you leave, that's exactly what he'll do. He's decided you're my slave, whether we like it or not. So, inconvenient as it is, we're here for the duration."
"I don't get it. What's this thing between you two?"
She returned to the cutting board and got back to work. "It's him, not me. He's crazy in love with his wife, Velma. When my best friend, Kathy, took me to my first society meeting as an inductee last year, I was really messed up. I cried the whole time. Well, Velma sat next to me and cried right along. Ever since then, she's sort of adopted me. And what Velma loves, Frank loves."
"That's really screwed up. What if something happens to Velma? Or worse, what if they break up and he decides he hates her?" It sounded too much like a criminal case study he'd done in law school, and it made him nervous as hell.
"Then I'm pretty much mincemeat." She added the chopped celery to the chicken and sprinkled spices.
"How can you be so calm?" Sometimes she seemed made of stone.
"What am I supposed to do about it?"
"Put out a restraining order. Stop going to the meetings and associating with him. Move, for God's sake." Why was he so upset about this?
She cast him a glance and cocked an eyebrow. "Come on, Mr. Lawyer. With a criminal like Frank? His disposition? You know those things aren't going to stop him. Think about it for a second. Did you tell him what hotel you're staying in? What room? I sure don't know, so I didn't tell him."
He was an idiot. "I gave him my name."
"Yep. That's all he needs. I guarantee he'll show up here with all your stuff, professionally packed, like some hit man slash traveling bellhop. He'll never say a word about it, because it's nothing to him. So unless I change my hair color, undergo reconstructive surgery on my face, gain thirty pounds, and enter the Witness Protection Program, I'm a dead woman if he decides I am." She added mayonnaise and stirred the contents of the bowl with a steady hand.
"And none of this bothers you?" He couldn't believe it.
"Yes, it bothers me. I didn't get so good with that whip for nothing. Every time I practice with it, I know a day may come when I have to use it to defend my life. I'm a crack shot with my pistol, too. I keep it in my bedroom. I go to the firing range on the boulevard every week. No, I can't run from Frank if he decides to come after me. I can't run from any man. I'm ready to fight."
She had obviously spent a lot of time thinking about it, and at least she prepared for the possibility. He could only look at her. He didn't know what had happened to make her this way. Her sweet beauty and natural poise had captured his attention, but her strength and determination now held it
, and impressed him. "Is that lunch?"
"Mm-hmm. Hope you like chicken salad. Are you hungry?"
"Starving. Let me get dressed and I'll join you." He went into the so-called playroom and looked around. He remembered trying to get the cloth on that morning but couldn't seem to get it out of a twisted wad. What did she do with it? Then he saw it on a shelf with her coiled whip and a cat-o-nine. Taking the brown material, he tucked his thumbs in the waistband and held it up. Anger immediately rushed him in a wave, making him stagger a step. Scrunching it in one hand, he marched to the kitchen and thrust it toward her face. "You can't take me to get my car in this… this… thong!"
Chapter 12
Melony found the handle of the knife and grasped it in a killer grip. This was the moment she had waited for. Chip's anger came off him in radioactive waves, brushing against her and making the hairs stand on the back of her neck. Shaking the loincloth in her face, he appeared ready to grab her around the throat.
Her heart pounded, and she slid the knife closer. She should've trusted her instinct and kept him restrained. Now that he roamed free, he could do whatever he wanted.
"Who said anything about getting your car today?" she asked, despising the quaver in her voice.
He tossed the loincloth onto the island, turned and paced to the dinette. He slapped a palm to his forehead. "First Frank practically strangles me, then you kidnap me and whip me. I've lost my freedom, my car, and now I'm about to lose my hotel room."
"You haven't lost your car."
He turned on his heel and threw his arms wide, his biceps and chest muscles rippling. "My God, Melony. Put yourself in my place."
Nobody had ever asked her to do that. For a second, she imagined how she would feel if she stood in only a towel in his apartment, with no clothes, no car, and having spent the night in cuffs and the morning tied up while he had his way with her. She released the knife and looked at him with new eyes. The man took all this with a far better attitude than she would. Under such circumstances, she would likely fight. Get violent. The one thing she feared most from him. The one reaction he hadn't had.