Shit.
I bend and pick it up, forcing my fingers around the bottle, just hoping they don’t snap like twigs. The icy water pelts my back and I have no idea how I’m even doing this right now. It feels like my body is slowly shutting down as the seconds pass–going numb until I won’t be able to move.
Lathering my body in the soothing scent of roses, I rinse off as quickly as I can, and then shut the water off so fast I’m surprised I don’t break the nob. I’m shaking so badly, it takes everything in me to lift my leg up and over the tub without falling.
I wrap my towel around me, and take slow and deliberate steps back to my room. I can barely feel my limbs. This probably wasn’t the best of ideas, but it worked nonetheless. I’m not jumpy, nervous, or pacing around like a crazy person anymore. That’s mostly due to the fact that I’m a human popsicle and can’t think or do anything. But still, it worked.
I’m just thankful I didn’t wash my hair, or I’d be even worse off. It’d probably freeze and break off like an icicle. I already learned that lesson when I was little and went outside in the winter with wet hair. It froze, and then just snapped off when I tried to put it up in a ponytail. I didn’t care back then, but I sure as hell don’t need that shit now.
Pulling my hair from its bun, I’m hoping it’ll help warm my neck and back. Shivering, I grab my phone and rip the towel off of me, and dive under the covers. I still have an hour before Ryan gets home, and I want to make sure I’m ready for him, and my punishment. Which, I won’t lie, excites me more than it makes me nervous. I know he’d never hurt me.
My phone is only on 25%, and I want to save some of my battery, but I see a bunch of missed texts from the group chat. Of course, they all want to know how it’s going and if I’m having fun with my sexy sheriff.
Hey! My phone is dying, but I’m here to report that I’m still alive, it’s still snowing, the power is out, and uhh…what was that last thing I wanted to say? Oh, right. I’m having mind blowing sex with the sexy sheriff…
Smiling, I send out the text and laugh at how quickly the responses come back.
So, are you leaving us for Maine now too, bitch?! Ellie asks.
What??!! No!! I’m just here having fun.
You sure?
Yes, bitch. I came here to clear my head, and I happened to find a man who has been helping me do just that.
Well, he’s cleared it of my job problems, but has muddled up everything else.
But it’s the same man you’ve been hung up on for months…and didn’t tell us. When was the last time a man did that?
Never. But I don’t need to tell them that. They already know. Why are you so hung up on me not telling you?
Mel takes the reigns on answering that question. Because that means something, Ashley. You’re always telling us your dating horror stories and the shit you deal with in bed. But you kept this from us…
They don’t fucking get it. I didn’t want to share him with them. I didn’t want him to be just another dating story. I wanted to keep him as a night just for me. I wanted to have it to pull out and think about–a secret all my own.
I’ll answer for you. She continues. He’s different than the others, and that scares you.
Stop analyzing me, Mel. I’m not one of your patients. I’m not some puzzle for you to solve. And I’m not in the mood for a lecture. My phone’s dying, so I’ll just talk to you guys whenever.
Turning my phone off, I toss it on the nightstand and roll over, burying my face in the pillows.
I’ve never talked back to my friends like that before. Sure, I can be bitch, and I speak my mind, but I’m never rude. Mel is a great nurse, and I just threw that in her face. But she’s the friend in our group that is too perceptive at the worst of times. When I don’t want advice, and I don’t want a lecture, that’s when I get one.
But I can’t deal with this shit now. I don’t want to.
I just want to pretend this little bubble I’m living in will last longer than it’s destined to. The snow will stop, the power will return, the roads will clear, and I’ll have to move on.
The bubble will burst, I know it will. But I’m not ready to deal with the aftermath of it just yet.
I want to have the best sex of my life with the sexiest man alive for as long as I can. That’s not too much to ask, is it?
It is, though. Because those little fuckers called feelings come creeping into your heart when you know you can’t have the happily ever after they dream of. They have a life of their own. No matter how much you tamp them down, they’ll just bubble up through the cracks you tried so hard to keep covered.
I’m not letting them ruin this, though.
Feelings can just go fuck themselves, because that’s all I’m trying to get out of this deal.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try and push everything down, and lock up my heart. I don’t need any more drama or complications in my life right now. I need to focus on me.
Pulling the comforter tighter around me, I start with trying to focus on relaxing my body and getting warm.
∞∞∞
The rush of cold air against my skin jerks me awake and my eyes fly open.
Shit, I fell asleep. Rolling over, I’m met with Sheriff Ryan Taylor, clad head to toe in his uniform. God, this man kills me with how fucking sexy he looks. So official and powerful.
“Good, you’re naked,” his deep voice praises as his eyes take in every inch of my exposed body. “On your back,” he commands, but I just stare at him. “Now,” he snarls when I don’t do it right away.
Seeing the hard set of his jaw and steely gaze, I roll onto my back, but turn my head to keep my eyes on him.
Ryan pulls the cuffs from his duty belt, the sound of the metal clinking like a siren call to my body. My breath hitches, and my heart starts to race out of my chest like it wants to run right towards the man next to me.
Placing one knee on the bed, Ryan grabs my right arm and raises it above my head. I watch his jaw tick as he focuses on me–just me. The cold metal snaps around my wrist, sending a zap of excitement and anticipation through me.
Grabbing my left arm, he brings it up to meet the other against the bedframe, and threads the cuff through one of the bars before shackling my other wrist.
The gentle skim of his fingers down my arms makes me squirm and pull at the cuffs, feeling their bite.
“The more you struggle, the tighter they’ll feel,” he muses, continuing to caress my skin as if I were something precious and fragile. But I’m neither of those things, especially not right now.
I want his rough touch. I want him to be in complete control. I want him to worship me to the point where he comes completely unhinged and animalistic.
I don’t just want that, I need that.
Stepping back, Ryan admires his work–my body stretched out on the bed, my breasts heaving with every breath I take, and my legs rubbing together, trying to relieve the pressure.
I’ve never felt so exposed. It’s as if he’s memorizing every inch of my body and locking it away in his mind forever.
With slow, deliberate steps, he walks around to the end of the bed, and brushes his fingers over my ankle and around to the underside of my arch. Jerking away from his touch, he catches my foot, and then grabs the other one before I can pull away.
I can’t move my arms, or my legs, now.
Opening my mouth, I try and say something, anything, but the words die on my tongue as Ryan climbs on the bed and pulls my legs apart–the cold air hitting my core, causing a fresh wave of need to come to the surface.
With a devilish smirk, he runs his hands up my legs, and I feel everything. His touch is filled with all the possibilities of what could be, but never will. And if I can have this, just this, then I’ll take it and keep it forever. Because the look in his eyes right now has me wishing I could have all of him, but I know I never will.
This is a fantasy. It’s just two people escaping into each other.
“Stay like
that. Don’t move.” The roughness of his voice washes over me, and I close my legs, wishing that’s where he was. “I said don’t move.” Gripping my ankles, he pulls my legs apart again, and stares down at me with a look of power, control, and lust in his eyes. Swirling together, his blue eyes mimic the stormy seas in the paintings he has hanging in his room, and I’m lost at sea.
This man has me captivated, and if he were to drag me under the waves with him, I’d welcome the black seas like I welcome my next breath–without question or hesitation.
Releasing my ankles, he stands at his full height of 6’3”–towering over me as he starts to undress.
Slowly, Ryan undoes the buttons of his shirt, letting me savor the moment as long as I can. He knows I love seeing him like this. I practically eat him alive with my eyes every time I see him in his uniform.
A grunt of disappointment escapes my lips when he pulls his shirt off and all I’m greeted with is a white t-shirt.
Smirking, he reaches behind his neck and pulls it off in one swift motion–in that way only a man can make sexy.
My eyes are glued to his body, watching his muscles flex with his movements. I wish I wasn’t restrained so I could rake my nails down his chest and abs–feeling him, marking him, watching him shudder under my touch.
All I can do is watch, though. I watch him slip the braided leather of his duty belt free, and remove the whole thing from around his hips. Placing it on the floor, I watch him undo the belt and button on his pants, the sound of the zipper opening making my insides clench.
Bending, Ryan unlaces his boots and kicks them off, taking his socks with them. Shoving his pants and boxers down, he straightens, and I’m met with the most glorious piece of equipment he carries besides his gun.
Stroking himself from base to tip, a low moan escapes me as his thumb rubs a circle around his crown, spreading the beads of white that escape. My mouth waters, and my tongue darts out, sliding it across my bottom lip before biting it. I wish I could taste him.
“You got yourself off today, didn’t you?” he asks, his voice husky and strained. I nod once, and his eyes seem to darken and swirl even more. “Did you pretend it was me? Did you wish it were me here to do it? Or did you like reading my words, reading everything I would do to you?”
“Yes,” I whisper, answering all of his questions.
“But I did tell you you’d be punished for touching yourself before I got home. So now you can’t touch me. You have to take everything I give you, and every time you pull on your restraints, you’ll just be met with the harsh bite of the cuffs.”
Pinching my eyes closed, I tilt my head back into the pillows and pull on my restraints, the cold metal resisting me. Damn it! This is either going to be fucking torture, or the best sex of my life. Either way, I just need him to relieve the knot I’ve had in my stomach since I woke up without him next to me.
“Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart.” He smiles wickedly, teasing me. “I want you to see what you can’t touch.”
Fuck. Me.
Stroking his length, Ryan puts one knee on the bed and grabs my ankles again, bending my legs up and apart as he crawls over me. Leaning forward, he runs his hands up my thighs, hips, and ribcage before gripping my breasts. With rough, hard squeezes, he pushes them up towards my chin, and then rubs my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.
I moan loudly and grip the bars tightly, the sound of the metal cuffs against the metal bars filling my ears. His tongue sears my skin with its heat as he circles my right nipple, taking it deep into his mouth, feeling the pull all the way to my core.
He trails hot kisses down my torso, across my hips, and lingers right in the middle. Frustrated that he stopped, I look down at him with a hardened stare.
“Sorry, sweetheart, did you want me to keep going?”
“Yes,” I hiss out between clenched teeth. He can’t fucking be serious.
Smirking, he lowers his head again, and licks the creases between my legs and the apex of my thighs–so close, and yet so far from where I need him.
He bites my inner thigh and I groan, trying to pull myself away from him, but he just holds my legs down harder.
Ryan runs his palms down my inner thighs and then around to grip my ass, lifting my hips off the bed as he settles between my legs. I feel him there, so close, just a little push and he’ll be inside.
“All I thought about today was you, in my house, touching yourself. Coming because of me.” He slips the tip past my soaking wet folds, and I moan. “I couldn’t wait to leave. I couldn’t wait to touch you.” He pushes in a fraction of an inch. “Kiss you.” A little more. “Be inside of you.” He slams all the way in, and I scream out–feeling him stretch me, fill me.
He slams into me relentlessly, breaking me open to make room for him.
My nails dig into my palms as I pull against the bars so hard, it feels like I could either bend the metal bedframe, or break my wrists. Whichever gets me closer to touching him, I don’t care.
His heated gaze is all over me–my swaying breasts, my flushed skin, my teeth pressing into my bottom lip, and my glazed over eyes. His jaw is set, and his eyes are focused, as he takes what he wants from me.
I’ve never felt so out of control, and yet still so powerful.
His rough grip on my hips tightens as he pounds into me. And knowing that he’ll leave marks only makes me more eager. My inner walls start to flutter around him, and I know I won’t last much longer.
“Ry–”
“Now.” He growls, cutting me off. His deep, ruff voice sends me over the edge. I’m dragged under the water of the raging storm he’s created, and I never want to surface.
A spark runs down my spine, electrocuting me, and numbing me, as my body is splintered into a million little pieces.
My head thrashes from side to side, as the blood rushes through me, making my ears deaf to my screams.
White dots blur my vision, and then it all goes dark.
I feel everything and nothing in this space between consciousness and the deep abyss.
Ryan’s gentle hands massage my arms before unlocking the cuffs and placing them around his neck. Rolling us, I land half on top of him, and he smooths his hand down my hair, curling the ends around his finger.
Humming my approval, I rub my cheek against his chest, my nails lightly scratching the base of his neck.
Chapter 16
Blinking my eyes open, the room is dark, and the solid body beneath me is no longer there. I spread my fingers out under the blanket, but all I come up with is cool sheets, letting me know he’s been gone for a while.
Sitting up, I slip out of bed and pick up the oversized sweater I was wearing from the floor, and slip it on over my head. I pad down the hall to use the bathroom, and while I’m washing my hands, I finally catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
“Holy shit,” I breathe out. My hair is a wild mess and my skin is blotchy.
Throwing it back up into a messy bun, I turn my neck from side to side, seeing that the bruises from Rick the Dick are fading away nicely. A twinge in my side has me picking up my sweater, and I smile at the little circles forming on my hips. I’ll take Ryan’s passion marking my skin any day.
Wait.
Fuck. Shit. Balls.
Dropping the hem of my sweater, it hits me.
We didn’t use a condom.
Shit! I’m never that irresponsible.
How dare he! He never even asked me if it was okay to do that. He didn’t know if I was on the pill or not. Luckily, I am, but still.
Shaking my head, I splash cold water on my face and brush my teeth. I don’t know where he went, but I plan on finding out.
Taking the few steps down the hall to his door, I see it’s already opened a crack, so I push it just far enough to poke my head inside. The moonlight streaming in through his open curtains shows an empty bed, but his uniform is folded neatly on the chair in the corner.
Pulling the door closed to how it was, I w
alk softly back down the hall and descend the stairs as quietly as I can. I don’t know why I feel like I have to be so stealthy, but it feels different walking around his house knowing he’s here somewhere.
I check the living room and kitchen, but both are dark and empty. That only leaves one room, and the one I refused to snoop around in while he was gone. It felt wrong to invade his office.
I see a sliver of light coming from beneath the closed French doors, and so I knock lightly.
“Yes?”
“Can I come in?” I ask tentatively, nervous.
“Sure,” he says.
Opening the door, I take a step inside, and find Ryan behind a desk stacked with piles of papers and folders. He’s sitting in a big leather chair, typing away at a computer, looking disheveled in an impossibly sexy way.
He looks up at me with tired eyes. “You’re awake,” he says simply.
“Stating the obvious.” I smile, but see that he has an almost confused look on his face, so I try again. “Yes, I woke up and you weren’t there.”
“So, you came looking for me?” he asks, a hint of disbelief in his voice–almost accusatory.
“No, I was thirsty. I came down for water, and saw the light coming from beneath the door.” A lie, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Oh, sorry.” He rubs his forehead and then scrubs his hands down his face.
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. I sounded like an ass. I’m just tired.”
“Are you working? It’s like”–I look around until I find a clock on the wall–“three in the morning.”
“I know. I couldn’t sleep, so I came down to do a few things I should have done yesterday.”
“Sorry.” I smile, feeling my cheeks heat, knowing it was me who kept him distracted.
With a light laugh, he shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I didn’t mind. Trust me.”
“Okay.” I nod, letting my eyes wander around his office. It’s both manly and cozy. Bookshelves take up the wall behind him, filled with books on law, crime, justice, police handbooks, and everything in between. A vast change from the classics he has in the living room.
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