by Chloe Cox
But something wasn’t quite right. Something bubbled up in those gray eyes. He never used to talk about anything that troubled him. She’d just accepted it, as his girlfriend.
She wasn’t his girlfriend anymore.
“So are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you, then?” she said. “Seems only fair.”
Very slowly, Holt leaned forward.
“Why are we fighting?” he asked.
“We’re not fighting,” Simone retorted. “Couples fight. We’re…vetting each other.”
Holt cracked a grin like a flash of sunlight in a thunderstorm. It was gone just as quickly. Then he sat back, his shoulders slumping.
“I had a bad day,” he admitted. “Eat your damn gumbo.”
Simone obliged. She got more than she expected, and he was her Dom, after all. And after the first bite, she pretty much couldn’t stop.
“Holy crows,” she said.
“I told you,” he said. “Best you can get.”
“You weren’t kidding.”
Simone looked up at him over her quickly disappearing bowl. He was still…it was hard to put her finger on it. But it was his body language. She might not have noticed if she hadn’t been with him before, but there was something different. He’d never let her see him tired before. He’d never let her see him as anything less than total Dom. She’d had to read between the lines, and she hadn’t been good at it.
She wasn’t going to let this chance pass her by.
“So what happened?” she said.
Darkness clouded his face.
“I wish people would think,” he said.
Simone blinked. This was about his job. Even when they were together, Holt almost never talked about it, not in detail. And when she’d asked, he’d always say it was simpler than people thought. People broke the law, they went to jail. Justice was served. As though that was all there was to it. It had fit his hard edges like a glove.
But now he was almost angry, his big shoulders hulking against that simplicity. He looked at her, saw her looking. Shook his head and sighed.
“If some dumbass wants to go ahead and ruin his own life thinking he’s the next Walter White drug kingpin of the damn bayou, that’s his prerogative,” he explained. “But there’s no call to use your grandmother’s house to do it.”
Simone put her spoon down. “Oh, Lord. That poor woman.”
That hardness flashed in his eyes again.
“She knew,” he said, biting off the words like they’d hurt his dog. “She knew all that money came from somewhere, and she knew all that lab equipment wasn’t for no legitimate goddamn interest in chemistry. And she covered for him. And now she’s going to jail. Like she deserves.”
The conviction in his voice hit her so hard she almost got whiplash. Somehow to Simone it almost felt like being shouted at, even though he would never in a million years raise his voice. It wasn’t what he’d said, or how he’d said it—it was because this was why it hadn’t worked out between them. Holt saw the messed-up, ugly swamp nature of the world, every day, and he somehow lived above it. Simone came from it. She came from a world of bad choices, and she’d never even had a reason as good to make a bad choice as a grandson in trouble. That kind of muddy gray world was her whole past. And not just the distant past, either.
Hell, if she screwed up, it might be her future too. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for this woman.
“You could go easy on her,” she said quietly.
That got his attention. More than his attention.
He was watching her in that Dom way again.
Simone squirmed in her seat, aware of the humidity, the stickiness, the flush on her skin. The way he was looking at her, she couldn’t help it. That was the screwed up thing. That hardness to Holt, that uncompromising, unyielding, cold hand of justice that scared her because she knew she wasn’t good enough for it?
That was also what made her so goddamn wet for him.
“You don’t go easy on people just because you like them, or you feel bad, or you think they got a raw deal,” he said, still watching her. “That’s not how justice works.”
Simone licked her lips and swallowed.
“I think that is how justice works, sometimes,” she said. “It’s just not how you work.”
And then she stared at her Dom, eyes wide, because she had just said that.
There was a stomach-churning moment between them, something wordless and strong, like Simone had accidentally said something true and now it was just…out there. Where they both could see it. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t react, except for his eyes. They were…raw.
She was transfixed.
Simone couldn’t remember anything like this, before. Anything this intimate. It seemed like they had been playing some elaborate game before, and now this was the real thing. Because they weren’t together, they weren’t in a relationship, the gloves were off. And it had never occurred to her that she could hurt Holt Manning.
Holt said nothing. He loomed over their shared table, his strong body taking up the space between them, his big hands clasped in front of him. His eyes all over her.
The air between them crackled.
And then Holt grinned.
“The contract is very specific,” he said. “About getting too personal.”
Simone couldn’t take her eyes off him. She didn’t know why her body reacted like this, but it freaking did. Her heart was hammering at her ribs, her pulse thudding between her legs. And he knew it. He knew she was scared of ‘sharing,’ and that she was wildly turned on, and that her brain was about to be scrambled trying to run in a bunch of different directions at once.
And she couldn’t. Fucking. Stop. Herself.
“That’s right,” she said. “We don’t get personal. Because we don’t have that kind of relationship. Not anymore.”
Holt leaned back, just the slightest smile on his lips. He inhaled, long and slow. And then he smiled.
Pure Dom.
“You’ve broken the rules, little sub,” he said. “So start by giving me your underwear. Now.”
11
Holt watched his words hit each and every one of Simone’s spots, one by one. Her eyes. Her cheeks. Her lips. Her nipples.
All he’d done so far was demand her underwear, but he knew that when he got them they’d be soaked all the way through.
And they needed that. Somewhere along the line this conversation had gotten off track. She’d gotten under his skin, and he’d gotten under hers. Neither of them knew how to navigate those muddy waters, but this was something he knew. He was done with talking, with rationalizations, with trying to figure out the wordless details that made up how two people felt about each other.
Now he was her Dom. She was his sub. That was clear as day, to both of them.
And what Holt knew, as he told his sub to hand over her underwear in a public restaurant, was that Simone had that wild look in her eyes. She’d had it since she pushed him about Mrs. Greenfield. Since she’d asked if this was a date.
“Did you hear what I said, Simone?” he asked.
He watched her breathe out a little bit, a little smiling sigh. Yeah, she’d heard him. The charge between them was building up the longer she looked at him like that. It needed to go somewhere. So she’d provoked him.
Had she been like this all day? Needing it, all day? Just like him.
The thought made him hard enough to punch through rock.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, little sub,” he said. They were alone on the covered wooden porch, and Beaux would leave them be unless Holt went and got him. It wasn’t a place known for its service. And Holt didn’t feel much like sharing with any spectators.
He wanted Simone all to himself.
“Give me your underwear,” he growled. “Now.”
Finally, Simone blushed a shade deeper.
“Um, I can’t,” she said. “Because I’m not wearing any. We were meeting at the club, and…”
&nbs
p; His cock was at full fucking attention.
“Go back to the truck, put your hands on the hood, spread your legs,” he said. “And wait.”
He watched her gather her things, her hands shaking with the built-up pressure, her pupils dilated, her nipples already poking through that expensive blouse. It occurred to him that he hadn’t gotten what he’d wanted out of this little encounter. When he’d asked her what was bothering her, she hadn’t come clean. She hadn’t told him what he’d wanted to know. Instead she’d tried to turn the tables on him. She’d tried to top her Dom.
And Holt knew just how to deal with that.
Simone clutched her purse in front of her chest to hide her breasts, but all it did was provide friction against her nipples as she walked. Somehow even the cool, dark interior of the shack-cum-restaurant was bright, loud, full of…
Full of everything.
She was so charged up she felt like a walking battery. Like she could practically vibrate her way over to Holt’s truck. What the hell had she been thinking? She was the one who’d said they shouldn’t talk about personal lives, and she’d freaking meant it. But then he’d shown just a glimmer of something real, something she’d never seen before, and she couldn’t help herself. The attraction between them was so damn strong she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and trying to touch him any way she could.
And now…
She’d pushed him, and now Holt was pushing back. This time the D/s play felt different. Complicated. Conflicted.
Raw.
As she walked through the restaurant, silently grateful that she didn’t have to see another soul on her way, she rolled the feeling over inside her, trying to figure it out. Trying to gain some desperate control over what was happening between them before she gave it up completely.
No use. She stepped out into the early evening with the sky painted pink and yellow over the bayou, saw Holt’s black truck, and the arousal hit her like an electrical storm. She’d seen more of the inner Holt in the last two minutes than she’d seen in months of being his girlfriend, and she couldn’t let it go. Why did she care? She knew that glimmer of softness was just that, a glimmer, and illusion. She’d wanted to see more of it.
She had stripped something off of him, and now…
Simone tottered through the dirt on her heels, threw her purse through the open driver’s side window, walked to the side you couldn’t totally see from the restaurant or the road, and found a relatively clean place to put her hands. She bent down slightly, spread her fingers wide, gripping as much as she could. And then she spread her legs.
And waited.
She had nothing to do but go over it in her mind. The set of his shoulders. The strength of his hands.
The look in his eyes.
The sounds of the swamp crept into her mind, and the breeze crawled up her leg, cooling her where she was wet. Where was he? It was making her crazy. She couldn’t see a damn thing without turning her head, and she knew better than to do that.
She heard boots crunching on the ground, behind her.
Getting closer.
Simone pursed her lips, and looked down toward the ground. The closer he got, the more she wanted to see his face. But she didn’t dare move. He was in control.
He always had been.
He’d stopped behind her. She almost couldn’t bear it.
After a moment the boots crunched again, and she heard the driver’s side door open. Heard him rustle around inside, getting something from the glove box. Heard him flick the switch.
The blue lights in the dash went on.
Simone sucked in air, the lights flashing across her in time to her own tortured pulse, beating between her legs. That’s what this looked like, to anyone passing by on the other side of the lot. An arrest. A traffic stop. An altercation, of some sort. The lights simultaneously drew attention so she’d know people would see her humiliation, and they kept people away, so he could do whatever he wanted.
The knowledge made her even wetter.
The door closed, and Simone stared resolutely at the same mud spot, right in front of her. She breathed in and held it as she heard him come up behind her again. And she closed her eyes when his boot tapped her legs open just a little bit wider.
“You broke my law,” he said behind her. She could hear him smiling. She wanted to scream that yes, she had. She wanted whatever punishment she deserved, and she wanted it hard. She wanted it so badly that it terrified her.
His hands on her hips weren’t enough. His hands, frisking up her sides, taking a lengthy, slow detour to feel her breasts, weren’t enough. His hands sliding down the outside of her legs, then up her inner thigh, until he came to her pussy and cupped it with one hand, wasn’t fucking enough.
She dipped her head and stifled a moan.
He toyed with her, ran his finger up and down her wetness, making her shudder while he pulled her skirt up over her hips with his other hand.
“I think you need to be told,” he said. “I’m in control here. Maybe you need a little reminder.”
Still holding her pussy like he could hold her there forever, he reached forward and grabbed one of her hands, bringing it around her back. Realization dawned somehow, through the fog of arousal. He held her arm there, then released her pussy and brought her other arm back.
Then he cuffed her.
He put actual handcuffs on her, pushed her forward, and pressed her down until her expensive silk blouse was pressed into the dirty metal of his truck and her aching breasts were crushed with the pressure.
The lights flashed blue, the metal bit her skin just the right amount, her ass and pussy were bare and exposed, and she could. Not. Move.
She groaned.
“What was that?” he said. “You got something to say?”
Her cheek turned, resting on the still-warm metal, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling a little. She was on fire, the pressure sweet and painful, and she was sliding into the bliss of subspace.
“No, sir,” she said.
“That’s right,” he said.
And she felt the first cold, slick drop on her asshole.
Simone reflexively shot back up, trying to straighten, and Holt’s hand was on her back to shove her back down.
“You speak when spoken to right now, little sub,” he said, chuckling. “This is your reminder.”
Simone closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. Soon his fingers were on her tight asshole, rubbing the cold, slippery lube into the tender skin, and reminding her just how long it had been since anyone had played with her ass. She’d only ever let Holt do it. And he knew it made her insane. It made her feel so vulnerable, so open, so dirty, all at the same time, she hadn’t ever been able to handle it with anyone else. He owned her ass, and always had.
And he knew it.
“Open for me,” he said, his voice low as he pressed his thumb against her. Simone whimpered, the pressure feeling immense, sending sparks zinging through the muscles around it and straight to her core. She tried to relax. She was handcuffed, immobile, and bent over his truck while his lights flashed. She was utterly under his power.
She moaned as he pushed his finger inside her.
“Good girl,” he said, stretching her in little circles. He added more lube, and Simone closed her eyes all over again as the circles got bigger. “Keep this up and maybe I’ll let you come. Eventually.”
Simone strained against the cuffs and groaned, but she didn’t dare try to move. He knew how close she was. He knew she was swollen, ready to burst. That’s why he took his thumb away.
And that’s when she felt the tip of it.
Silicon, probably. And probably small, but it felt like the biggest freaking butt plug in the known universe. They always did.
She whimpered again, but he was merciless. Slowly, but firmly, he pushed the ridged plug inside her ass until she felt herself close around the narrow part, just in front of the base which flared against her cheeks. She felt…full.
So full there was room for nothing left but sensation. The slightest movement reverberated through her like a pleasurable echo, throwing her off balance. The slightest goddamn breeze zinged inside her like an electrical current.
Holt slapped her ass, and her knees buckled.
“You’re going to wear this for the rest of the night,” he said. “Every time you feel it move inside you, you’re gonna know who put it there. You’re gonna know who owns you. And if you want to come, you know what you have to do. You’ve got to be good.”
She nodded, her cheek rubbing against the dirty metal.
“Now show me. Arch that pretty little back, and show me how that tight little ass looks.”
Holt ran his hand over the globe of Simone’s ass as she arched her back, offering herself up to him. The red plug matched another one of her skirts. It looked pretty on her. It would look even better when her ass was red to match. He had long plans for her, this evening. As pretty as she was, she deserved a long tease before he gave her that release. Even if he wanted to take her now. Hard. Rough. Hot. The way they both liked it.
Sometimes being a Dom sucked rocks.
He took another long look at his handcuffed, bent-over sub, perfectly offered up for his pleasure, and held up the last piece of equipment.
The remote control.
You always had to test your equipment.
Holt grinned, and pressed the button.
Simone bucked, then slammed back down on the hood of his truck all on her own, her legs shaking. Holt stared. Her thighs were quivering, and her slick, wet entrance pulsed with feather-light contractions.
He moved without thinking. Without deciding. He saw her ready for him and the animal took over. His hand on his zipper, his cock out, and he was inside her in under a second.
He thrust forward hard, burying himself in her so quickly she didn’t have time to react except to jolt forward in surprise, a yelp escaping her lips. He grabbed hold of her hips while she shuddered around him, until finally she moaned, arched, and slid further onto his cock.