by Carrie Elks
This wasn’t about Lucy anymore, nor about a sadist who wanted his errant wife returned home. It was about Rachel and Murphy, two people who seemed to share a kink, one that made them both hot and bothered. It seemed a long time had passed since she’d offered him a bed for the night, thinking a roll in the hay might while away a few hours, yet her desire for him hadn’t changed.
Murphy broke the silence first, his finger reaching out until he hooked it under her chin, tipping her face up. “Look at me.”
She was taken aback by his voice. It was commanding and smooth, and so very sexy. Like a seduction tool, he was using it on her until she did what he wanted. Rachel ached to have it whispering in her ear, telling her what he was going to do to her next. She wanted to hear it calling out her name as he plunged inside her.
She gathered enough courage to meet his eyes. Fiery passion raged behind them. He tugged at the rope again, enough to make her step closer, and she barely heard him when he whispered, “Good girl.”
There was no doubt in her mind she wanted him to take her right there in the bar she’d been hiding in. Just the thought of feeling this beast of a man moving inside her made her want to moan out loud. Their situation was fucked up, unresolved and quite possibly unresolvable, yet the connection between them couldn’t be denied.
From the heated expression on Murphy’s face, he couldn’t agree more. His narrowed eyes and hard jaw told her what exactly what she needed to know. His hesitation was momentary, but it was enough for her heart to stop. Then he leaned down and captured her lips, his movements demanding and cruel. He reached out a hand, weaving into her hair with grasping fingers, tilting her head until it suited his needs. The shock caused her mouth to fall open.
This time, he didn’t wait. His tongue pushed inside, sliding against hers, dominating her mouth and her body. The ropes burned against her wrists as she arched into him, wishing she could touch his face, loving that she couldn’t. She kissed him back hard, enjoying the faint flavor of beer lingering on his tongue. He invaded her, overriding the taste of her fear, until all she could think of was the need that heated her skin. The way he tugged at her hair sent a shiver down her spine, making her back arch and her breasts press against him.
Chapter Four
Murphy’s mouth released hers, his teeth slowly dragging down the soft skin of her bottom lip. He bit gently before he pulled away, his powerful legs pushing him up until he was standing over her. “Christ, I want you.”
Her own legs shook with the effects of the kiss. She stared up at him, seeing his hard expression. He looked like a man at war with himself, his dark green eyes a storm of questions and decisions. Silence lay heavy in the room, a thick, tension-filled quiet which made her heart pound.
Murphy didn’t seem to notice. She wondered if his own pulse raced as fast as hers, if every cell in his body screamed to touch her the way her body begged to be touched. A moment later, his face softened. The wariness behind his eyes seemed to melt into the darkness, replaced by a clarity which made her breathless.
It looked like his decision was made.
“Do you want this?” His voice was low. He towered over her as she sat on the bench, his large, firm legs in her direct line of sight. She glanced at the heavy outline of his cock, shadowed through the thick, blue denim, making her want to trace a finger along it and watch as he twitched with pleasure in response.
“I want you.” She met his eyes, dark and hot. She wanted him like he wouldn’t believe.
“You want me rough or gentle?” From the tone of his voice, he knew she’d dabbled before. She loved that he asked her, that he didn’t assume.
“I love it rough,” she replied. His hands curled into fists, like he was trying to restrain himself. She heard his breath becoming ragged and low.
“You need to tell me if it gets too much, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.” Murphy leaned toward her, gathering her hair in the palm of his hand and using it to pull her up to standing. Having her hands tied behind her back made her a little unsteady, and he drew her closely against him to stop her from falling. His grasp made her breath quicken, like there was a direct connection between her head and her lungs. She tried to control it, to get the oxygen where she needed it, but one deep breath and she was overwhelmed.
He was too much.
She pulled in another breath, not wanting him to know how much he was affecting her. “Maybe you’re the one who should worry about getting hurt.” A half-smile pulled at her lips.
“You have a smart mouth, sweetheart. I’ve got a good idea how I can shut you up.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and exerted a little pressure, forcing her legs to bend until both knees hit the wooden floor. She kneeled without protest, desperate to feel him in her mouth, needing to taste him. Her breasts ached with desire. Just being this close to him made her pussy hot and wet.
Keeping one hand on her shoulder, he unzipped his jeans with the other, pushing at the waistband until she could see the black cotton of his shorts. He tugged at them until his hard cock was released, hitting his stomach with a slap. He was firm and hard, a thick red vein running from root to tip. Rachel felt her mouth water at the sight. With a cock like that, he could wind up hurting somebody.
The thought made her sweat.
“Put your lips around my dick.” Murphy curled a hand around her neck, tight enough for her to feel the pressure. She had no doubt that with a little crush, he would have her unconscious in moments. The edge of danger of his touch made her pussy even slicker and her legs tremble.
Her body felt like it was waking up for the first time in years.
Rachel leaned forward, licking her lips to moisten her mouth, her face coming within inches of his hardness. He pushed his hips, enough to make his tip brush against her mouth, letting out a soft moan. She sucked him in, pulling the whole of his engorged head into her mouth. The wetness of his pre-come meet her saliva.
Christ, it felt good.
His hold on her neck loosened slightly, turning into a caress, his thumb making tiny circles on her throat. Her nipples hardened beneath her bra, pushing against the soft fabric enough to make them feel raw and sensitive. A bead of perspiration ran down from her neck, trailing through her cleavage. She sat back on her heels and squirmed, desperate to get some relief to the way her body ached, the way her skin burned.
“Like that. My God.” He was making little noises with his throat, deep almost-moans that sounded hot and needy. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of power and desire that surged through her body, making her throb. He was bigger than her, stronger too, but she loved the way she reduced him down with just a stroke of her tongue and the hollowing of her cheeks. It had been so long—too long—since she’d felt this way. There was a little buzz of pleasure in her skin, like low-level voltage, enough to make her body tingle and her muscles contract.
Murphy moaned again, louder this time, and she arched her back, pushing her chest against his legs. She could feel him at her mercy, the way he was unsteady on his feet. She wanted to push him further, make him as desperate as she was.
His flexing hips pushed more of his cock inside, and she licked and sucked him as he pushed deep. His fingers curled around the nape of her neck, inches from where his cock was pushing against her throat, and the sensation made her nerves explode.
She swallowed against his tip, throat contracting against his skin, and he pulled back with a hiss. “So fucking good. Tell me you like it.”
She opened her eyes slowly, watching his stomach muscles tighten, as her tongue dragged along the underside. Her senses were on overload, screaming with delight. Every part of her body was so attuned to Murphy’s pleasure she could almost feel it herself. Nothing else mattered, just the taste of his cock, the pulsing of her blood, and the knowledge that she was going to bring him to his knees.
“You like my cock?”
She could only moan, sending vibrations through his shaft. She loved his cock; she was worshipping it, sucki
ng, licking, trying to drive him crazy. It was driving her wild too. Her clit was aching, desperate for his fingers, tongue—anything that would give her some friction.
Murphy wrapped his fingers through her dark hair, pulling lightly until tears stung her eyes. Flexing his hips, he thrust so hard he hit the back of her throat. He withdrew a little, letting her breathe and call out if she needed to. Instead, she moved her head back down, encouraging his brutal rhythm, her pussy contracting with pleasure as he fucked her mouth.
“Scrape me with your teeth.” His words were guttural and harsh. He pulled her hair harder, as if to show who was boss. He felt thick in her mouth, big and greedy, making heat spear through her core. Her breasts were warm and heavy, her nipples peaked until they were almost painful. She wanted to feel his rough hands against them, squeezing her flesh, teasing her until it made her moan. She imagined the way his mouth would feel as he sucked them inside, his tongue lashing and coating them with saliva. Just the thought was enough to make the muscles clench hard inside her pussy. The feel of his cock and the tightness of his grip were enough to make her clit throb. It made her edgy, desperate, in need of relief.
Loosening her lips, she gently scraped her teeth along him before easing the sharpness with a lave of her tongue. He was frenzied, thrusting harder, needing more. She wanted to feel him everywhere: in her mouth, in her pussy, to have his body pumping inside hers like an animal. Whether he knew it or not, at that moment he owned her.
His voice was a breathy rasp. “I’m gonna come. I want you to suck every last bit from my cock.” Rachel looked up, catching his eye, loving the way he looked when he was falling apart. His taut jaw loosened, lips trembling as he teetered on the edge of the cliff, then he fell spectacularly.
She felt the first hot, salty spurt of come hit the back of her throat. Pulling back, she let the ribbons hit her tongue, tasting him, savoring his pleasure. His thrusts became erratic, slower, his head tipped back with pleasure. Sensing his need, she used the opportunity to clean him, licking every last drop until she could find no more, swallowing every drop.
When he withdrew, she almost felt disappointed, hating the sensation of the emptiness in her mouth. Hooking his hands beneath her shoulders, Murphy pulled her up to standing, twisting his hands in her hair to tip her head backward.
“Fuck that was good.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers. Rachel struggled at her bindings, wanting to throw her hands around his neck. His tongue flicked across her bottom lip before pushing into her mouth, sliding against hers to taste his own come.
Her clit throbbed unrelentingly, making her clench and pulse. She kissed him back so hard she could barely breathe. Her lips worked against his, feeling the roughness of his stubble scraping her skin. She exhaled a breathy moan when she felt him suck her lip into his mouth.
“Oh, God, Rachel, the things I want to do to you.” She loved the way his name sounded on her tongue. Broken, raspy, like he was almost spitting out the words. She wanted to hear him moaning it over and again until the two of them collapsed into a hot pool of sweat.
Murphy pushed her roughly back on the seat until her back touched the wall and pulled her legs wide apart. She watched as he dug in his bag again, the muscles in his arms contracting beneath his tan skin.
Then he pulled something out. Something metallic and sharp. Just one glint and she froze against the bench, her back tense and her eyes wide. It was like her muscles had forgotten how to move; she couldn’t even work out how to breathe. He turned around, grasping the thick, wooden handle, and her mouth dropped open as she saw the blade, sharp and curved, tapering into an acute point.
Time slowed to a crawl as he stood up slowly, his arm loose at his side. The knife brushed against his jeans as he reached full height. She could still taste him coating her tongue when she tried to swallow, the dryness scratching at her throat, but the euphoria of a moment ago morphed quickly into fear.
Cold hard panic gripped her, wrapping her body like cling film. Her lips stuck together when she tried to open them, and her voice sounded alien, all scratched and low. “No.”
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his right hand. Her mind was transported back to Beacon Hill, to David’s nasty smile and the intense fear she felt every time he took her into his special room. Her fingers curled around the edge of the bench, knuckles bleached white. This time her racing heart was all about panic. Terror and fear mingled in her throat, catching her breath, making her eyes sting with tears. She’d just made him come. Why was he doing this?
“Rachel?” Murphy’s soft voice shook her out of her memories. He was looking at her shaking body with concerned eyes. Her vision was watery as she watched him roll his lip between his teeth. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never do that.”
She couldn’t take her eyes from his blade. She couldn’t do anything. Just like with David, the fear paralyzed her.
“Look at me.” His voice was still low, and a little nervous. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He reached his left hand out, stroking her hair, trailing his fingers through until he reached her shoulder. He cupped it gently, hot fingers burning through her thin sweater.
She was still glued to the seat, her eyes wide with panic. A single tear rolled down her left cheek, finding a winding trail down the contours of her face and pooling by her lip. He reached out and wiped it away with his thumb, his fingers lingering on her cheek.
His voice was stilted when he spoke again. “I was just going to cut off your clothes.” He moved away from her, releasing her face. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Without turning away from her, he slowly leaned back, placing the knife back in the bag behind him. She watched, still silent, as he moved back toward her, putting both arms around her shoulders. Her chest started to hitch, her body wracked with quiet sobs.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled it into her hair. “I didn’t think.” She let her head fall forward, her face nuzzling into the warm skin of his neck. Her lips pushed against his flesh, feeling a pulse point moving under them and the rushing of blood beneath his skin. His arms tightened around her as she began to move her mouth against his neck, kissing him softly, needing to feel the connection.
“You scared me.”
He pulled her closer still. “I know.” His voice sounded firmer, like he was taking back the control. It gave her strength, the ability to center herself, knowing that he was the one in charge. “I’ll never hurt you—not unless you want me to.”
It was as if he could read her innermost thoughts and knew the thin line that separated her fear from desire. She liked it rough, hell she loved it rough, but not knives. Never that.
She breathed him in, then kissed his neck a final time. “Okay.” Her nerves were steady now. The lust was returning to her body, flushing her skin and speeding her heart. She looked at his face, seeing the need mirrored in his own expression. The way his thick bottom lip dropped open made her sigh with need. Maybe she could bury herself in his arms and forget about everything. Get lost in the pain and the pleasure. Rachel liked the idea of that.
She sat still as a mouse while he drew his hand down the front of her sweater, then across the hem, curling his fingers around the thin wool. He pushed his fingers inside, hands dragging across her skin, making her flesh heated and raw.
When his eyes caught hers, there was nowhere to hide. She looked back at him, seeing how open they were, his emotions like a cloud beneath the surface. There was something going on, something that made his hands brush softly against her skin and his head dip until his lips were inches away from hers.
“I’m going to untie the knots.” He pushed his lips against hers, murmuring into her mouth. He kept kissing her as he took his hands from her waist, pulling them out and around her body. Then he broke off, leaning over her shoulder, and she could feel his fingers pulling at the knots around her wrists. The rope pulled against her skin, making her wince. She’d had rope burn before, usually from struggling too much. This t
ime she’d been too excited to still her movements.
The white rope fell to the floor and he started to rub at her skin, encouraging the circulation. His lips moved back to her neck, dragging against her throat. She wasn’t sure what made it feel so hot—the sensation of blood so close to her skin, or the knowledge he trusted her enough to release her hands. She lifted them up, circling them around his neck, digging her fingers into his hair.
He grabbed her sweater and pulled at the hem, lifting it over her head. It fell onto the bare floor. Her chest heaved, and he watched the way her tits rose and fell with unguarded rapture, his breathing a little strangled, too.
“You have beautiful skin,” he murmured, his voice so quiet she wondered if he even knew she heard him. He reached out a hand and traced the white scars peppering her stomach. “Nobody should disfigure it like this.” The way his eyes narrowed lit a flare of hope in her stomach.
It was an idea she liked too much, the thought of this big man being her protector and not her hunter. She needed to rein herself in, slap herself back into reality. She wasn’t Cinderella, and he wasn’t offering her a happy-ever-after. Fairy tales didn’t happen in real life. But then, nor did horror stories, and she’d had her fair share of those.
She shook her head, trying to get the negative thoughts to leave. Like he knew what she was thinking, Murphy leaned down and grabbed the back of her head, pushing his mouth against hers. Pressing his other hand against her lower back, he pulled her toward him until their bodies meshed. The feeling of his body against hers was enough to push everything else out, replacing her fear with desperation.