by Brandi Evans
Maddox was about to make some crass remark like, 'Calling out 'Oh, god,' when Raven goes down on you doesn't count,' but Kat stepped into the room, and everything inside Maddox's head evaporated.
Her long blonde hair fell in loose ringlets around shoulders left bare from an off-the-shoulder top. The material was airy and a tad see-through—or perhaps that was a little wishful thinking. The sleeves gathered at the wrists, and she'd tucked the right front of the top into cut-off jeans that showed more leg than the makeshift PJ shirt he'd given her. And, yes, a myriad of fading bruises marred those long, lean legs, but damn.
He was an asshole for thinking it, but he wanted her mile-long legs wrapped around him, wanted to twine himself around her until there was no painful past, no reason at all he couldn't be with her in all the ways he craved. To sink into her, to possess her, to claim her the way a Dom claimed a sub, to bind her open to him, to take as much pleasure from her as he gave.
In a different lifetime, he could have.
Carter whistled. "Katlyn, Katlyn, look at you."
She wrapped her arms nervously around her middle and then unwrapped them as if unsure what to do with herself. "The shorts are a little tight, and I don't have any shoes that match. And my legs probably look terrible, all bony and covered in bruises, but I figured, since we weren't going anywhere, it would be okay, right? I, just, uh, thought the clothes were pretty."
As hesitant as she was stunning, she looked as if a battle waged inside her, a war between what she wanted to wear—the clothes that made her feel pretty—and what the Jeff in her head said was proper. If Maddox could, he'd fight the war for her, but he could only offer reassurance. This was a battle she had to fight on her own; he was, at best, a tool she could use when and as she needed.
Before he could tell Kat what he was thinking, Raven popped up and said it for him. "Oh, my god, Katlyn. That looks amazing! As for the bruises, fuck 'em. They're part of your story. You're the badass princess who slew her own dragon. So the battle left bruises. So what! You survived, and after all, isn't that the important part?"
Okay, it wasn't exactly what he'd been thinking but close enough.
Kat looked at her toes again—toes she'd painted a fuck-me red.
Heaven help him.
"You look beautiful." The words were out of Maddox's mouth before he could pull them back, but when that smile lit her face, the one that made her eyes glow and her nose wrinkle, he couldn't muster one ounce of regret. She was beautiful. He'd thought so for a long time. And it was about time she started believing it.
"Do you really think so?" she asked, a beautiful swan afraid she was the ugly duckling. "I used concealer to cover most of the facial bruises, but I didn't mess with the legs because I didn't want to risk getting concealer all over your pretty sofa."
"I wouldn't care if you did, just like you shouldn't care about what someone might think of your bruises. Raven's right. They're part of your story. Bruises just mean you survived."
The movement was subtle, and he wasn't sure she'd realized she'd done it, but Kat pushed a little bit taller, pulled her shoulders back, a portrait of strength and defiance.
Sarge sneezed, and Kat rocketed to Maddox's side. "What was that?"
Instinctively, he brought his arms around her. He liked that she turned to him for protection, that she trusted him like this.
"I brought you something," he said, easing Kat over so she could see Sarge.
Kat looked from him to the dog and then back again. "You got me a dog?"
"Yes, but not just any dog." Making sure Kat stayed tucked securely at his right side, he said, "Sarge, heel."
Sarge popped up and came to sit at Maddox's left side.
"Sarge is a police dog. He's getting a little arthritis in his hip, so long patrols were starting to hurt him. They retired him yesterday."
"And he's… mine?"
"Yeah. His current handler can't take him, so Sarge needs a good home. In return, he can keep you safe when I'm not with you."
Blue eyes glistening, Kat looked at him as if he'd given her a fifteen-carat diamond. Her bottom lip trembled. It took all his self-control to keep from dipping his head and nipping on that sexy, quivering lip.
"How will Sarge protect me exactly? Sorry, if that's a dumb question. My only experience with police dogs is on TV."
"There're commands you'll need to learn," Maddox said. "His former handler taught me a few basic ones, but I've arranged for us to have a more detailed session with him tomorrow."
For the next fifteen minutes, he showed her the sit, stay, down, and heel commands. When she began feeling comfortable enough to work alone, he moved to stand beside his partner, who stood with an arm draped protectively around his sub.
Kat's confidence grew steadily as she and Sarge bonded. Right before his eyes, she was changing from the meek caterpillar, spinning the first threads of the chrysalis that would transform her into a butterfly.
Katlyn crawled into the big bed alone. Maddox was still insisting she take his room. She hated the fact he was sleeping on the couch, both because it felt rude to kick him from his own bed and because she wanted him beside her. His arms were her safe space.
After Raven and Carter had left, Maddox had taken her to get new IDs—with her name listed as Katlyn Matthews. She was divorced now, and by god, she didn't want anything from Jeff, especially his name. She'd stayed in the shorts, too. She'd been self-conscious at first. Jeff would never have allowed her to wear something that showed so much skin, but whenever self-doubt tried to wiggle back, Maddox simply smiled reassuringly.
Bye-bye insecurities.
After getting the IDs, Maddox had taken her shopping. He'd bought her a pair of tennis shoes, a pair of sandals that matched the outfit, and a pair of high-top Chucks, the kind she'd always had her eye on but never had the money to buy—more like Jeff had never allowed her to buy. She'd loved each pair, even as she'd insisted they were too much. She'd have settled for a couple of one-dollar flip-flops from the Dollar Tree, but she couldn't lie, she'd liked being treated as if she mattered.
She'd find a way to pay Maddox back somehow. She might not have any cash yet, but she could start by making him pancakes again for breakfast. It pleased her ridiculously how much he'd loved her pancakes. She'd clean his apartment, too, every inch of it. His place wasn't messy, but he didn't seem big on dusting either. So, yes, she'd start making things up to him with a big fat breakfast and a house so clean that he could eat pancakes off any surface! She'd also make sure he had an excellent homemade dinner, too, and then lather, rinse, repeat until—
She instantly deflated.
Until he made other arrangements for her living situation.
Eventually, they'd catch Jeff—they had to, right—and when they did, Maddox wouldn't need to be her constant protector. He'd return her to the wild, so to speak, and get on with his life without her. Funny how something she desperately wanted to happen—Jeff in prison—would be the catalyst for something she desperately didn't want to happen—not being part of Maddox's everyday life.
Not wanting to sleep alone, she tapped the side of the mattress and called Sarge from his bed in the corner. Dutifully, Sarge came to her, but he hesitated to jump onto the mattress. Excellent training, she mused.
She patted the bed with more energy. "Sarge, come."
This time, he jumped up, turned in a circle twice, and then settled down beside her.
"Good boy."
She snuggled him close. Four-legged companionship was better than no companionship, but she wanted Maddox beside her. When she'd woken at dawn to find them tangled together, not pressing the softest of kisses to his jaw had taken all her strength. She'd long dreamed of waking beside him after a long night of lovemaking. Oh, how she wished that had been the reason he'd come to her bed and not a nightmare.
Knowing she was still capable of feeling attraction had been an amazing sensation. Jeff hadn't broken her completely. She only wished Maddox felt the same wa
y about her. Even if just a little. He'd unlocked and rekindled fantasies she hadn't felt in far, far too long, fantasies of long-ago times before fun between consenting adults had turned to abuse. He made her think of the curious college student who'd gone to her first BDSM club. Katlyn may have gone just to support a friend, but she'd ended up discovering the submissive who lived inside her. And scariest of all, Maddox made her wonder what kind of Dom he'd be like if…
If…
No, she'd be better off not letting that thought play out. Detective Maddox Westbrook, protector of abuse victims, was not into BDSM, so she needed to shut that down right here and now. She had enough Maddox-fueled fantasies to keep her nights hot without adding Master Maddox to the mix.
Mmm. Master Maddox. Just thinking the words made her shiver.
So, with visions of Master Maddox dancing in her head, she drifted off to sleep and fell promptly into her world of personal nightmares.
She hadn't been here in a long, long time.
Katlyn turned in a slow circle, her smile spreading to take over her entire face. She stood in the middle of the BDSM club she'd frequented in college. Well, not a club per se, more club-like. An eccentric wealthy couple had hosted it in their opulent mansion. Carrie had brought her; she'd been the curious one, the one who wanted to know more about the lifestyle. Katlyn simply hadn't wanted her friend to go alone.
After watching for a while, however, a growing arousal had expanded in her core, and she'd wanted to play, too. She hadn't played her first night, just watched the scenes acted out. She'd been too scared. Excited, yes, but scared.
But this wasn't her first night. No, this was the night she'd first played. She recognized the Masquerade Ball from the decorations. She also recognized the night by the costume she wore. Carrie had called the outfit "sex kitten". And lastly, she knew the night because of him: her first Dom.
Then, in the way dreams did, she was bound to a table, naked, arms in a "T" position. Her legs were bent and spread open, heels touching the backs of her thighs, secured sensuously with rope. Her Dom had taken a meticulous amount of time to secure her this way. As he'd worked, she'd been more aroused than she'd ever been. Helpless, too, but then, the helplessness hadn't produced fear but… anxiety.
The clip-clop of his old-fashioned shoes on the hardwood floor announced his return. Before he stepped into view, the rain of the flogger's tails teased over her breasts, hardened her nipples. She arched her back, begging without words for more contact. Her breath leaped in and out of her lungs, anticipation like a shot of epinephrine. Her sex burned, but she was helpless to ease her need.
Her Dom finally stepped into view, but this wasn't the boy she'd met all those years ago, the boy in the Phantom of the Opera mask. This wasn't the boy she'd been too nervous to give her name or to receive his name in return. Katlyn found herself looking into the kind eyes of Detective Maddox Westbrook—only his eyes weren't kind now. They reflected the sky during a summer storm; the tones darkened even more as he scraped his short fingernails along her inner thigh.
"You're already wet for me." He stopped just shy of touching her intimately. "But before we move on, has anyone spoken to you about safe words, sub?"
She nodded but then remembered the rules: verbalize everything until you feel safe with a Dom, and Katlyn didn't feel safe right now. She felt feral, hunted, and possessed by an intense desire for her Dom to devour her.
"Yes, Sir. I know my safe word."
"Say it for me."
"Red, Sir."
"Very good." His fingers continued their trek until he pressed them inside her.
She arched at the sudden invasion, already so perilously close to climax that she felt as if she could break any second. "Sir!"
He fucked her with his fingers as he continued teasing the flogger's tails over her erect nipples. "What's the most you've ever orgasmed in one night, sub?"
Her head thrashed back and forth, back and forth, as she tried to think. She was already so close to making it one that she couldn't think straight. "Two, Sir. I think two. I'm n-n-not positive, though."
"Oh, my sexy little kitten, two orgasms will never do. I'll tell you what. How about for every three orgasms I give you, you'll give me one orgasm in return? There is, however, a catch; I plan to give you at least six."
"Six!" The word shot from her mouth as the first of those orgasms consumed her. She quivered as he worked his magical fingers harder and faster into her, as he pushed her up until she thought she might die of oxygen deprivation, as she doubted there was any oxygen this high in the stratosphere.
"That's one," Sir murmured with a satisfied glint in his blue-gray eyes. "Would you like another?"
She nodded frantically, the movement uncoordinated. "Yes, Sir. Please."
"And you're willing to pay the price for subsequent orgasms?" He slid his fingers from her slick channel and stroked her clit in slow, wet circles. "If I give you two more, I get to take one from you, remember? And when I take it, I'll take it any way I want. Maybe I'll fuck your pretty mouth, make those pink-painted lips go all plump. Or maybe, for our first time, I'll just fuck you right here…"
He slid those magical fingers deep, deep, deep into her sex.
"Oh, yeah, right here." His voice resonated with desires, dark and dangerous. "I'm gonna fuck this sweet, sweet pussy until you're begging me to—"
"Like hell you will, asshole! No one fucks my wife's pussy but me!"
Katlyn's vision focused as Jeff pointed a gun at Maddox's head and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 8
"Maddox!"
Katlyn couldn't escape the covers or the lingering effects of the nightmare. The image of Maddox's dead, lifeless eyes as he'd crumpled forward onto her—
"It's not real, it's not real, it's not real." She repeated the words as she fought to untangle the covers.
Sarge barked, a deep sound like someone calling for help, and the bedroom door flew open.
"Kat. What is it?"
"He killed you," she cried, finally managing to get her arms and legs free. She launched herself at him. "Jeff shot you right in front of me, and then, you fell on me, bleeding. God, there was so much blood, so much, and I couldn't move. I couldn't get free, couldn't—"
"Shh." He stroked her back. "It was just a nightmare, Kat, just another nightmare. I'm right here, sweetheart. Look, no blood, no bullet wounds. See, safe."
He didn't entirely set her at arm's length, just pulled back so she could see his face.
She cradled his cheeks between cold, trembling hands. "No, no blood."
"No blood. I'm right here, Kat, with you. I'm safe. You're safe. We're both safe. Jeff isn't here. He didn't hurt me, and he will never hurt you again. I'll make sure of it."
She nodded, wanting desperately to believe. "I was so scared. When I saw the blood—"
"Shh." He gathered her close again and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Shh."
She quieted, safe in his arms. She held him so tightly that her arms began to tremble with effort instead of terror. "Will you please stay with me again tonight? I don't want to be alone. I need to feel you against me, to remind myself you're still alive, still here with me."
He hesitated only a moment. "Under one condition."
"Anything."
"Assuming I can arrange it, I want you to meet with Dr. Fitzgerald tomorrow. I thought we could wait until you got settled a bit more, but…" He gripped her tighter to him and shivered. "Your nightmares are terrifying for me, too, Kat. To hear you in that kind of panic, and then not being able to do anything, is like a knife to the gut."
"You are doing something, Maddox. By just being here, you're doing everything."
"I'm nervous," Katlyn admitted as she placed the last of the brunch plates in the dishwasher and hit start.
Since the weather was gorgeous, she and Maddox had shared brunch on the enclosed patio off the living room. She'd made ABLTs—avocado, bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches—and he'd cut fresh
fruit for a fruit salad. Not being the only person making a meal had been weird. Having someone to talk with while making it had been weirder still. Forget about having someone help her clean afterward, and yet, he had. It had been peaceful and domestic, two words she'd never have imagined went together.
She kept reminding herself not to let the domestic bliss go to her head. This wasn't a glimpse into their future.
You're just the job to him.
"Nervous about what?" Perched on the counter he'd just wiped down, he studied her.
"Talking with Dr. Fitzgerald. I've never spoken to a therapist. What if she takes one look at me and tells me I'm a hopeless basket case or that I'm going to be screwed up for the rest of my life?"
"Okay, first, you're not a basket case. Let's get that out of the way right now. And two, I've worked with many victims over the years, and you're one of the strongest and bravest I've ever known. Besides, even if you were a basket case, Caroline would be the perfect person to help you. I trust her, Kat."
She had so much to break down. Firstly, Maddox thought her brave? He'd told her that before. She didn't believe it then and certainly not now, and yet, she couldn't deny the resolution permeating his voice. She might not believe his words, but he sure did. She could have ridden high all day on that alone, but then, he'd followed it up by using Dr. Fitzgerald's first name.
Jealousy stabbed her right in the heart, even as she told herself it was utterly ridiculous. Maddox and Dr. Fitzgerald worked together at the police department. Of course, they'd be on a first-name basis. It didn't mean they were sleeping together. Even if they were or had been, Katlyn had no right to be upset.
You're just the job to him.
Carefully, she stepped over Sarge, who was sprawled in the middle of the tiled floor like a dog-shaped area rug, and pushed onto the counter beside Maddox. Because she needed to, she changed the subject. "I used to be a nurse. Did I ever tell you that?"
If the abrupt topic shift surprised him, he didn't show it. "I don't think you ever told me, but I did know."