by Eva Charles
He crouches, biting my ass, while he attaches the cuffs. I jump every time his teeth sink into the fleshy cheeks.
“Spread those legs for me, Kate. Nice and wide.” The lever clicks and I grip the long thin base of the saddle tighter.
“Stop. That’s all you need to say to end this immediately.” He brushes his fingers down my back. “Say it, so I know you can.”
“Stop.”
“Say it again.”
“Stop.”
“If you don’t stop me, I’m going to push hard, and I’m not going to stop until you’re a muddled mess.” He kisses the back of my head after he says it. I feel the reticence on his lips.
Smith licks me back to front, again and again. He sets his own pace. I shudder at each long stroke, overwhelmed by the feeling of being restrained while he tongues me with abandon. When his fingers join the party, I am filled with the urge to squirm. But my movements are restricted, and I am at his mercy while his fingers fuck me, twisting in and out with a rhythm that he controls. It’s too much. Too much.
“Regulate your breathing, Kate.” I concentrate, taking a couple carefully controlled breaths. “That’s it.”
His fingers have slowed, and his mouth has moved away from my pussy. I need it back. But I can’t grab his head and pull it toward me. “Smith, I need more. I was almost there,” I plead.
“Shhh. You can have more. Right now.” I flinch when the cold lube makes contact with my ass, sliding between my cheeks. “This is a special plug,” he says. “It will feel a lot like the others we’ve played with going in, but these little balls are going to blow your mind coming out. Push out,” he instructs, sliding the glass inside me. “Breathe.”
I am dripping. I don’t know if it’s all the lube he applied or if it’s my arousal. My pussy is clenching. I want him inside me. His fingers. His cock. I don’t care.
His nose brushes my clit. He grunts his approval, and then he eats me. His lips, his teeth, his tongue, they’re all at the table, while he sucks on my clit, occasionally rocking the plug. “Go ahead, Kate. Come all over my mouth.” His tone is lewd, almost taunting.
I feel his fingers slide into my pussy. Two? Three? I don’t know. But my walls clench, hugging tight. My hips buck, but the movements are small, controlled by the restraints. It’s maddening. I feel my body tighten as I soar. Up, up, up. Yes! All of the pent-up energy—the frustration of not being able to move, bubbles up and pours out, filling the room in a long loud scream.
Smith slides up behind me. He presses a kiss to my cheek. He’s trembling, fighting for his own control. “I’m going to fuck you, princess. It’s going to be so tight with that big plug in your ass.”
I whimper, as his teeth sink into my flesh, biting along my shoulders and back, like he’s tasting my skin.
“Ahhh!” The sensation adds to the sensory overload.
“Do you like being restrained?” he murmurs in my ear. His voice is thick, bathed in a delicious lasciviousness. I feel him at my entrance before I can answer, rubbing the flared crown against the tender flesh.
I open my eyes and gaze into the mirror to watch this beautiful man enter my body. The smell of sex wafts around us like frankincense in a holy ritual.
His jaw is slack. His eyes shutter as he ruts deep. My mouth falls opens in a gasp, and I struggle to keep my lids up. He moves with a graceful command, emitting the low growl of a predator who has captured his prey. His lashes flutter, exposing dark slits that catch me watching in the mirror.
His mouth eases at one corner, the glint of hedonism lighting his dark eyes. He bends over my body, wrapping my hair around his fist. “You’re such a dirty little princess. Look at your pretty face with traces of my cum still on it.”
I squeeze my eyes tight, losing myself in the punishing rhythm of his powerful thrusts, enjoying his fingers digging into my hips. I’m a blissful mess, bursting with need. “Please,” I beg.
“Please what, princess?”
I don’t know. I don’t know what I need.
“Please, fuck you harder?” He picks up speed and delves inside the tight channel with a vigor that pulls silent screams from my well-used body. “Please, your tits need some attention?” He palms my breasts, pinning me more securely between the saddle and his hips, impaled on his long thick cock. My nipples are so sensitive, every squeeze, every roll, sends a zing of pleasure to my core. I moan loudly, my desperation filling the air, as I grip the base of the saddle tighter. “Please, let you come?”
He lowers his head, murmuring in my ear. “Because that’s not happening yet.” His hot breath curling into the shell lights a nerve, and the fire runs wild, reigniting itself when it reaches the tips of my toes.
He has one hand on my hip, anchoring me, and the other on my clit. His fingers circling, my legs trembling, and just as I am certain I’ll die if I don’t find my release soon, he pinches my swollen clit, and pulls out the plug one bead at a time as I fall apart. I tremble and grunt, writhing under him as each ball finds its way out. His thick cock works furiously inside my throbbing pussy, and I scream his name and shudder with the final wrench of the glass.
He pulls my hair back in a rough tug. “Watch me come inside you, Kate.” His eyes are heavy. The sweat is dripping from his skin. My hair is twisted around his hand. With two violent thrusts he roars his release. His features ease, occasionally contorting until he stills.
Still breathing hard, he gazes at me in the glass. I’m not sure what I see in his face. In his eyes. I’m too afraid to think about it. Too afraid it will break my heart if I’m mistaken, or if it’s not real. I only know that I want to look at it forever.
He leans over and places a gentle kiss at the base of my neck, before pulling out. “Are you okay?” I gasp at the emptiness, mourning the connection, and simply nod because I can’t speak.
Smith ties the condom—which I’m glad he remembered, because I certainly didn’t. Then frees my wrists, rubbing them vigorously between his hands. “Just hold on, babe, while I get the spreader off. You might be a little unsteady, so just hold on.”
When I’m free, he carries me into the shower and turns on the water, using his body to shield me from the spray until it warms.
“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, taking the soap out of my hands. He slides his soapy fingers all over my body, up into every crease and down every slit. Then he soaps himself while the water rinses the suds from my skin. He shampoos my hair, and gently combs out the tangles like a pro. It occurs to me that he’s done this before. But I don’t let the thought spoil my happiness.
“Drink a little juice,” he says, sitting me on the edge of his bed. “That’s it. Now lie down. I’m going to hold you, like this, while you nap.”
“Smith.” I squeeze his arms, wrapped protectively around me.
“We’ll talk about it later.” He kisses my head and pulls me higher onto his chest. “You’re a warrior, Kate. Don’t ever lose that spark. Sleep, Princess Badass.”
“I—I—” The words fade with me into the warm darkness, Smith’s heartbeat a reassuring pulse against my cheek. I feel more like a sleepy princess than a badass.
32
Kate
When I wake, Smith is on the phone. I hear his muffled voice from the other room. I wonder if he knows more about the break in—about what happened to Fenny. My heart still hurts.
I dreamt about her while napping. The kittens were born, and Fenny was sunning herself in the morning light that pours into the bedroom while her babies played nearby. But it was just a dream, because in the end, there were no fluffy kittens and no peace for her. How could it have happened? The one evening I go out, someone robs the place. I’m not numb anymore. I’m mad as hell.
The police were sympathetic but acknowledged that it was unlikely we’d find the culprit. But Smith feels differently. I remember exactly what he said. Oh, we’re going to find them. And they better pray the police find them first.
After I brush my teeth, I get dresse
d, but not before peeking into the room where we played. I say the word out loud, let it tumble off my tongue. It rolls off in a confident, fluid motion that almost surprises me.
I wander inside the quiet room, much like I did earlier. But this time I don’t hug myself, confused by what I find. This time I touch the saddle with great courage, in the very spot where I lay splayed and open to him. There is a great sense of relief.
“You ready for round two?” I turn toward the deep silky baritone in the doorway. His mouth is lifted at the corners. Not in a smile, but in something that could easily become one.
“I could probably use a small break.” My voice is small, as though I’m suddenly shy.
He enters the room, eating up the space between us in a few long strides. “You okay?” he asks with an alert gaze. “That might have been more ambitious than it needed to be.”
“I’m good. Totally good,” I say through a forced smile.
“Did you enjoy it?” Smith searches my face, touching a fingertip to my lips. “Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me the truth. Dig deep for the honesty.”
I blink several times, trying to unearth the right words. “More than I thought.” I smile, shy again. “A lot more.” The lines on his face smooth.
“It’s new to you. New to me with you. It gets better.”
“None of this is entirely unfamiliar—well except the saddle.”
His brow scrunches, forming strings of puzzled lines. “Oh yeah, you read porn. I almost forgot.”
“Romance.” I punch him in the arm.
“But?”
“But I never expected it to be a part of my life. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure how much of it actually existed outside of fiction. How about you?”
“I knew it existed outside of fiction.” He smirks, the dimple appears, and my knees wobble.
“That’s not what I meant.”
His head tilts. “It was—pretty amazing.”
I think so too. The tension slides off my shoulders in big sheets, evaporating into nothing.
“Even though I’m a newbie?” Leave it alone, Kate.
“Something to be said for teaching a newbie.” His eyes are bright, and soft. “Thank you for doing something so far out of your comfort zone. You’re not the only one developing feelings.”
His words are more difficult to accept than the punishing rhythm as he pinned me against the saddle, chasing his release.
“Thank you for trusting me,” he says. The words are heartfelt and it’s impossible to miss the gratitude in his voice.
“It’s not that hard to trust you.” What’s hard is not to let myself get too comfortable in the cocoon we created. Not to feel too safe there.
He tucks a wilted curl behind my ear. “We need to talk, Kate.” His face is somber, and my mind flies somewhere terrible, second guessing everything he just told me. Maybe it wasn’t enough.
“Fenway wasn’t a hit by a car and placed on the sidewalk by a good Samaritan.”
After holding her last night, I didn’t think so. But please, please don’t tell me a predator gutted her. I don’t know why, but this seems like the worst kind of death. “Do you think she cut herself on the screen jumping out the window?”
He shook his head. “No. There was no blood on the screen or anywhere near it, but there was a puddle of dried blood on the mattress under the comforter. We didn’t notice it last night because it had soaked into the sheets, and was covered, but by this morning—my guys found it when they went to check the place. We think someone killed her there and carried her outside.”
“In my bed? Who would? Why? The cat didn’t hurt anyone. Who would do something so awful?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh my God.” I sink to the ground. “It’s my fault.”
“Kate, it’s not your fault. It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.”
“But if I’d been home. If I had kept a better eye on her.”
“We can ‘what if’ this to death, but it’s not going to help us find the bastard who did it. It’s not your fault, but I am worried about you.”
You don’t need to worry about me because I’m a survivor. It’ll take time, but I know how to do this. “I’ll be okay. I just need some time to come to grips with what happened. Think about how frightened she must have been. I want to help you find who did this.”
“It’s not about your mental health. I’m worried that this was a signal meant for you. Are you working any angle of the King story I don’t know about?”
“No.”
“What about the societies?”
“No. After the restraining order—I’ve been so busy with Fenny, and work, and the bulletin for St. Maggie’s, …” and you, “… that I’ve let it fall by the wayside.” I’m embarrassed to admit it. After all, isn’t that why I’m in Charleston?
“Are you sure you haven’t spoken to anyone?”
“Other than Lucinda, no. I’m sure.”
He has that faraway look he gets sometimes. He listens and soaks up everything in the environment, but it’s like his brain is running on dozens of different circuits, all feeding him information that he’s cross-checking.
“I want you to stay with me. Make a list of things you need for a week or two, and we’ll go by your house to get them.”
A week or two? “No, Smith. I want to go back to my place. I want to bury Fenway.”
“She’s been buried. My guys did it when they secured your house. They put the mouse toy she liked with her like you wanted,” he adds gently.
“Thank you.”
“You can go back today, but then you’re coming with me for the foreseeable future.”
“I—”
“This is non-negotiable. Whoever killed Fenway is a monster. They are either sick or doing a sick person’s bidding. Either way, it’s unsafe for you right now.”
33
Smith
I left Kate at her house with Ty and Josh. Ty is one of my best men. The best of the best. Josh is new to a civilian-protection detail, but he’s had plenty of experience dealing with an enemy. He likes Kate, which isn’t crucial to the job, but it will make it more pleasant for her.
When I arrive at Sweetgrass, Zack’s nurse is leaving and lets me inside. I’m grateful it’s Sunday and I don’t have to stop to chit-chat with Lally in the kitchen or with Patrick, JD’s assistant. I go directly to JD’s study where I know he’s waiting.
I knock on the door, but don’t wait for an invitation to enter. There was a time when I would have said that nothing would ever come between us. But that was before Kate. The relationship is bruised right now, and I’m about to put it on life support. “I’m sorry to barge in on a Sunday evening, but I need a favor, and wanted to make the ask in person.”
“You’re always welcome here. What’s up?”
I sit at the edge of his desk. “Someone cut open the screen to a window at Kate’s. They killed the pregnant cat in her bed. We found it last night when we came home, clean slice through the belly. Looked like it was done by a hunter, or someone who has gutted an animal before.”
“Jesus. Do you have any idea who might have done it?”
“No. They made it look like a burglary, but all they took was some worthless jewelry and her laptop—not the backup, which was sitting next to it. They left the expensive television sitting there in the open. It was staged. Poorly staged. I suspect it has something to do with King. A warning of some sort.”
He nods. “They took her laptop. Is she close to something?”
“No. That’s the thing. Although sometimes you can be standing in a pile of horseshit and not know it. If they were afraid of what was on the computer—they would have taken the backup too. It’s a warning. I’m positive.”
“What’s your favor?”
“I want to move Kate into my place, here.”
“I’m sorry?” He grips the edge of the desk with both hands, his thumbs hooked under the lip. “You want to bring trouble to my doors
tep?”
I lean across his desk to make my point. “There’s no safer place in Charleston than Sweetgrass. I’ve made sure of that. I just need her here long enough so that I can put together some airtight security at her place. I’m already working on it, but it can’t happen overnight.”
“Fuck no, she can’t stay here. And don’t you think you’re blowing this just a tad out of proportion?”
“No,” says a voice from the doorway, with one hand propped on her hip. I turn to face her, my blood at a full boil at JD’s callousness. “I don’t think he is blowing it a tad out of proportion. But it’s a damn funny accusation coming from your mouth.” Gabby stomps into the room, standing in front of JD’s desk, with her chin lifted for a fight.
“She cannot stay here,” he barks, standing and glowering. “You have a daughter. Have you forgotten?”
“You mean the one I pushed from my womb and fed from my breasts?”
The gravity of the situation hits me, and I feel awful they’re arguing over something I stirred up. But I’m not going to stop it. I need Kate here, where the security is essentially impenetrable.
“I forbid it.” JD raps his knuckles on the desk for emphasis.
“You forbid it? Is this not my home, too?”
“This is our home. Where Gracie should be safe, and Zack, and you,” he adds, his eyes darting to me. “I am so pissed off you would put my family at risk for some woman. I’m not sure I can ever get past this, Smith.”
Gabby walks around the desk and rubs JD’s arm. “Is this who we are? Is this who you are? Because it’s not who I am.”
“We have a daughter to consider.”
“This is not who I want my daughter to be. It’s easy to throw money at problems, or hand generous checks to people in need. This is the hard stuff. Sacrifice that demonstrates real charity and genuine compassion. The rest is window dressing.”