Reflex

by Madelynne Ellis

  “Go on.”

  “Do you consider blood dirty?”

  “Huh?”

  “Sorry. Um, my last boyfriend was… I dunno, squeamish. He wouldn’t…. What I’m trying to ask is; do you fuck when your partner’s menstruating? Or I guess I mean, have you? Would you? Don’t answer if you don’t want to.”

  “Where did that come from?”

  “Cliffs. Falling. It made me think of blood, and hence…”

  Spook sighed. “Fair enough. Okay. Yes. I do. Or rather, I would. If we were actually—”

  “Fucking,” she finished for him. “I’m glad you’re not squeamish. I get so horny at that time of the month.”

  He rolled over and kissed her on the nose. “You think I’m not squeamish.”

  “I think you’re a mess of contradictions. That you’re hellish sexy when you allow yourself to be, and simultaneously a total screw up. I think you’re a good man, kind, loyal, loving, but you fetishize a few things that aren’t so light and fluffy. And that’s okay. There’s light and dark in all of us.”

  Spook blinked slowly. “Maybe.”

  “Definitely,” Alle insisted. “Nobody’s perfect.”

  “You might be.”

  He certainly knew how to make her smile.

  “Want to get under the covers?”

  Alle nodded. “I am a little cold.”

  “The bit I’m feeling isn’t.” His hands settled over her burning butt cheeks. “It’s feeling pretty scorchio.”

  “Yeah, but there are goosebumps on my arms, and I don’t want to be spanked there.”

  Spook let go of her long enough for them to scramble beneath the covers.

  What he didn’t do was lie down beside her with his head on the pillow. Instead, he rolled her onto her stomach and crouched over her, astride her legs.

  “Spook, that’s not exactly keeping my arms warm.”

  He positioned pillows over both of her elbows, making her chuckle.

  “What are you thinking, you crazy dichotomy of a man?” He wasn’t touching her, just looking at her fiercely red butt.

  “Dark thoughts,” he murmured, prompting her to turn her head and look back at him. His expression wasn’t dark. It was, at least for a moment, unguarded. Desire burned within him like a feral hunger.

  “Tell me.”

  “Alle,” he sighed. His usual mask dropped over his face.

  Alle rolled onto her side enough to allow her to curl her fingers around his. “You’re imagining what you’d like to do, right? So tell me.”

  Spook sighed again, making a different sound to the first time, less edgy, and more admissive. “All right. I was imagining the welts I’d like to add to the general glow.”

  “Go on.”

  “How I’d run my fingers and tongue over them. How I’d explore your arse and open you up.”

  “You were imagining kissing my ring?” She pushed her tongue into her cheek.

  “Fucking you there,” he corrected her without a hint of humour.

  “Oh!” She pulled a goldfish expression. “With your actual cock?”

  “I hadn’t progressed that far in my imagining yet.”

  “Ah. Right. I interrupted too soon. So, what came first?”

  “My tongue. Fingers. A toy. A replica, to be precise.”

  “Wait,” she tilted up her chin so she could see him better. His eyes were a roiling maelstrom of ghosts, but his jaw was relaxed. “When you say a replica, you mean of your dick?”

  “Yes.”

  Alle grinned. Black Halo had put out that limited edition range of vibrators. She’d never been entirely certain how involved the guys had been in their creation. Not that it’d stopped her purchasing one. Christ, she’d practically assumed it was a hoax, but judging by his expression, maybe not.

  “I have one of those,” she confessed. “The Spookster.”

  “With you?” Spook responded, proving they were on exactly the same wavelength. Also—zero batting of eyelids. Well, wasn’t he full of surprises tonight? That left her with the question of what she was prepared to reveal. After all his admissions, confessing to carrying around a sex toy in the shape of his cock in her handbag wasn’t much of one.

  “Yes.”

  His lips broadened into a smirk. “Naughty girl.”

  Alle sat back on her haunches, which stung a bit.

  Spook eyed her expectantly, blond brows quirked. “What?”

  “What if we agreed to a deal?”

  He gave her no indication of whether he was intrigued or not. He merely waited for her to elaborate.

  Alle touched him mid-chest, craving the reassurance of bodily contact. “I’d consent to you whacking me with something hard enough to leave a mark, and in return you’d fuck me with the fake you.”

  Spook couldn’t seem to look at her at first. His gaze kept sliding sideways. However, there was no mistaking the hitch in his breathing.

  “I don’t know if that’s—”

  Alle got off the bed. She rifled through her bag, came back, and dropped the vibrator and a bottle of lube onto the coverlet. Her wooden handled hairbrush, she pressed into his hands.

  In the first instance, he flinched as if it were on fire. Then for an impossibly long moment his breath seemed to stall in his lungs. His chest didn’t rise or fall. “Alle,” he eventually gasped.

  “I trust you, Spook Mortensen. How about you start trusting me as well?” She formed his hands around the handle.

  “You’re already sore.” His gaze flitted to her reddened behind. Kneeling up, Alle glimpsed herself in the long mirror on the wall opposite the bed. True enough, the visuals confirmed it. Like her nerve-endings hadn’t done so already.

  She touched her tongue to her upper lip. “Agreed. I probably won’t tolerate much, but I want to try it—for you. With you.”

  Spook remained in cross-legged indecision. It knotted her up seeing him like that, and knowing she was both the cause and the solution. Alle held out her palm for him to test the brush against, but he shook his head. “I’m not sure we’re ready for this.”

  “We are. I am. Five,” she proposed, holding up that many fingers. “That’s not many, but enough to try it out, right?”

  Or not. He sucked his perfect Cupid’s bow lips leaving their surface moist.

  “Come on, I deserve it after earlier. I talked to Bang!, remember.”

  “To your brother,” he instantly corrected her. “I can’t make a game out of that, Alle.”

  “Then something else? What turns you on? Naughty school girls?”

  “God, no!”

  “Okay. How about crazy fans who slip into your hotel room uninvited and steal your clothes and lick your guitar picks.”

  “Guitar picks?” He howled, until the laughter left tear tracks on his face. “You’re clueless. Also, I don’t use picks, and you are my chief stalker. You text like a zillion times a day and never take no for an answer.”

  “Fine.” She grinned too. His amusement was infectious. “What should I sneak in and threaten to lick?”

  Spook settled back against the pillows, which gave her a tremendous view of the full length of his body. “I don’t know. Something that means something. That’s important, or at least representative of me.”

  “Your guitar,” she suggested.

  “Really. Don’t.” He paled as though she’d threatened to stab him through the heart. In any case, his trademark Washburn wasn’t even in the room. Alle looked around the luxurious, if frighteningly non-descript hotel suite for inspiration. There weren’t many personal items on display. A few bits of clothing, some shoes. “I’m not licking your boots.” He had three pairs of high-tops lined up.

  “No?” Spook dug his teeth into his lower lip. It didn’t mask his smile.

  “No.”

  Spook kept on giving her that toothy grin.

  “No. Oh, come on. Really?”

  He dipped his head. Only slightly, but enough. Then he looked up at her through his eyelashe
s. It was heart-meltingly sexy.

  Alle sighed and slunk off the bed to retrieve his footwear.

  “Really, you should step into the corridor if we’re going to properly do this. That way you can pretend to sneak in while I’m asleep, and I can actually catch you in the act, and punish you.”

  She was stark bollock naked. Stepping out into the hallway was going to necessitate clothing. Also, he seemed curiously engaged by this idea. That did surprise her a little, considering recent events and the amount of time he spent warding off unwelcome attention. Then again, she’d never known a man who was a bigger bundle of contradictions.

  “Spook, you wouldn’t really do that to an obsessive fan girl?”

  “Spank her? Hell, no. Are you insane? I’d leg it and call security.” He blew out a frighteningly long breath while shaking his head.

  “Okay, that’s good. Just checking. You’re not going to call them on me, are you?”

  “Someone’s not very trusting,” he said, voice all sweetness and light.

  Alle planted her hands on her hips in the way she’d seen Ash’s fiancée do. It made all of the Black Halo boys shape up when Ginny did it. Spook merely looked bemused.

  “Ah, you’re impossible,” she cursed.

  “No—you’ve just some addled idea that I’m nice.”

  It wasn’t an addled belief. It was the truth. He was a sensitive, empathic soul. Sexy as hell too. Probably good with animals and small kids. Crazy good-looking, and a halfway decent cook by all accounts. It just so happened, he had a few naughty peccadillos.

  “Scoot.” He jerked his head towards the door. “I want to see your best sneaking.”

  Alle scooped up his shirt as he reached for the lamp switch. There wasn’t time before it was pitch black for her to grab any panties. Luckily, his shirt was long enough to cover her modesty. Well, just about. It mostly covered her arse. And, she’d only be outside the room for a couple of seconds.

  -31-

  That turned out to be forty seconds of abject humiliation, as the assistant house manager wheeled a trolley full of supplies past her at a snail’s pace, and she stood with her back to the door, her hem pulled as low as she could with one hand, and her fingers around the jam to stop herself getting locked out. Truthfully, if the suite door shut, she wouldn’t put it past Spook to incorporate that into the scenario and expect her to finagle a key card out of the reception desk to let herself in with. It’d be in keeping with the game.

  Alle’s uneasy grin collapsed the moment the staff member passed through the fire door. Thank God! She slid back into Spook’s room.

  In her absence, he’d tweaked the curtains open slightly, so that a sliver of light from the security lamp outside painted a silvery blue glow over the sitting area of the room. The brightest point spot-lit a pair of red Prada high-tops. Brand new, and un-worn by the look of them. At least he’d opted for something classy, and not the well-worn skull-emblazoned Converse under the table.

  Spook lay on his side, one arm tucked beneath a pillow, and the other bent on top of it, so that his thumb sat pressed against his lips. It made him look sleepily adorable. His eyes were closed when she looked, but she swore he followed her movement as she scurried along the end of the bed towards the window. She risked a second peep at him once she’d reached the high-tops. Lord, that man was beautiful. His hair was spread around his bare shoulders, his face relaxed as if blissfully dreaming, and the outline of his strong body was hinted at beneath the quilt. Ah, the things she wanted to do to his body. They could get a girl arrested.

  Slowly, Alle rose out of her crouch. She stretched cat-like, arching her back, before lifting one overpriced shoe aloft as if in reverence, before cradling it against her body. Stealthily, she lifted it to her lips, and poked out her tongue.

  “Now, why would you want to lick that old thing, when there are other options on offer? Hm?”

  God! She hadn’t heard him get out of bed. A jolt electrified her body, making her hair stand on end. Spook was an appropriate moniker. He stood so close they may as well have been touching. His nakedness was blessedly apparent, even without a confirmatory peek in the darkling mirror. “I’m offended you’d choose a designer logo over me.”

  “I wouldn’t.” Her voice emerged as a high pitched squeak. Alle made to turn, but he put a hand on her shoulder, stilling her.

  “Wouldn’t you? Are you sure you’re not just here to steal a few goodies, thief?” The way his words whispered against her skin made her nipples tingle.

  “I’d rather steal you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He rested his chin against her shoulder. “Then it’ll be disappointing for you to hear that I don’t care for sneaky women.”

  Alle huffed. “That’s not what you said the last time,” she improvised, throwing him a coy look via their reflections. “Then you said you liked being seductively awakened with a stealthy blowjob.”

  Spook touched his fingertips to the side of her neck. How was it that this man could make her tremble all over with excitement just by touching her in the most innocuous way? “Did I, indeed?”

  “You did. You also said that I was your greatest and only lover, and that I have the perfect arse, and you like how it wiggles when I crawl.”

  “Interesting,” he drawled, as if it were anything but. He glanced at his nails. “I don’t recall.”

  “You’re just playing with me,” she protested. “You’re mean. It took a lot of effort to get in here. There’s a lot of security, and you never help out. You’re always promising a pass, but you never send it. I think you’ve probably other favourites.”

  “One or too. None so inventive as you though. How many blowjobs did you have to give this time?”

  “I never—”

  He cut her off, by taking her hands and setting them down upon the coffee table. “Shame. I like it when you taste of other men’s jizz.”

  He had not just said that. Fuck it, he had! And more disturbingly, it turned her on. Well, as long as she didn’t think about it too hard.

  “Bend. Enough of your chatter. Let’s see if what I supposedly said is likely to have been true.”

  “It was. It absolutely was.” In her dreams it definitely was. The reality was that he’d avoided saying that he loved her, or even firmly committing to them as a couple. Also, her arse was huge, not perfect. Perfectly fucking huge. Maybe he liked that, but she thought it could do with being a bit less wobbly.

  “Bend.”

  Alle leaned forward from the hips. The position lifted the hemline of the dress shirt so that her arse was fully exposed. Spook gave a dismissive sniff. “It’s not nearly pink enough to be perfect. I think that makes you a liar. And we all know what happens to them.”

  “They get jobs in government.”

  He snorted. “They get punished. At least in this reality they do.”

  “Well,” she huffed. “I don’t see how you can possibly make a proper judgement on it. It’s dark in here. There’s not enough light to see colour.”

  “Fair enough.” He reached for the switch. The lamplight threw a brassy glow over everything, and banished all the silver-blue shadows to the corners.

  Alle could see more of him in the mirror now – narrow hips, broad shoulders, and the swirls of ink hugging his various muscles. The sight of his gold-spun happy trail leading down, down, down, made her grin obscenely.

  Spook stopped her gaze from descending too far with a couple of fingers applied to her chin.

  “If it’s not the right shade now, you could always warm it,” she suggested cheekily, tilting her hips so that her arse stuck out more.

  Couldn’t he see that she just wanted him to do it? Hit her, and then do dirty, dirty things to her backside. She was jittering she was so impatient for it.

  “Want and demand. That pretty much sums you up, doesn’t it, Ms Hutton? And after I’ve reddened your arse to the appropriate hue, what then? I suppose you’ll demand tha
t I kiss it too.”

  “Oh, would you?”

  He choked a little, as he bit back a guffaw. “You’re a bad girl.”

  “Hm mm. Be a bad man,” she encouraged. “Punish me for being a crap bootlicker.”

  Spook stretched over to the bed, and picked up the hairbrush, which he then turned in his hands as if familiarizing himself with the wood.

  “Versatile things, hairbrushes. Nice oval shaped heads.” He smacked it against his palm so it made a percussive clap. “Nice slim polished handles.”

  Alle gulped, afraid of where his mind was straying.

  “Are you not so convinced about that?” he said into her ear. “It’ll be a lot slimmer than my cock. It’s barely more than finger width in diameter.”

  “Splinters,” she blurted.

  “Hm.” He nuzzled closer to her neck, breathing hot air onto her skin. “I don’t think there’s any real risk of that. In fact, I don’t think you’ll protest at all once you’ve been properly prepared.”

  “Spook,” she squeaked. They should have discussed this. Worked out some rules. Agreed on safe words. All the sensible things responsible adults were supposed to do before engaging in lewd games.

  “Traffic lights,” he said, making her blink. “Are you with me? Where are you now?”

  Okay. She got it. Thank God his head was screwed on right.

  “Yellow. I’m nervous.”

  He briefly enclosed her in a hug. His strong arms squeezing her tight. “I’m nervous too, Alle. I feel like goddamned Pandora. Brace yourself.”

  He smoothed one hand over her arse, then whack.

  “Fucking hell!” That was not in any way like the stinging surface swats he’d given her with his hand. The brush back landed with a thud, and rippled into the muscle, leaving behind a much deeper burn.

  “Alle?”

  “Yellow,” she gasped. “I really want you to fuck me. Even if it’s with the handle of my hairbrush.”

  He landed another smack as soon as she finished speaking. Jeezus. It brought tears to her eyes and nearly made her swallow her own tongue.

  “Another one,” she said, pre-empting his question.