He was like a pitbull with his teeth buried deep in her heart, refusing to let go as he tore it to shreds.
How had he managed to get in anyway? She’d locked her bedroom door, and the door to the balcony was similarly locked and the security system activated. Besides they were twelve stories up, it’s not like he’d climbed the ledge between the two suites.
Somebody-Kris or Scott-must have let him in, the traitors. She could just picture him casually strolling past the guys, giving them a “hey how are you” good ol’ boy smile-or worse, the I’m-about-to-get-me-some smile-while he walked into her bedroom as if it was an everyday occurrence.
Sighing, she slapped a hand against the tile and leaned away as far as he’d let her. The movement drew her gaze to their reflection in the mirror. He was buck naked, the soap from her hair sluicing over the rippling muscles of his chest, catching on the thick dark hair at the base of his…oh, man. All she could think of when she saw that thick shaft with its dusky head was how she wanted to go down on her knees and kiss it. Suck it the way she had in his shower just a couple hours ago… Oh, crap and a half! What type of woman was willing to go down on her knees for a cheating, lying scum like him?
She forced her eyes from the reflection of his cock and back to the white tile in front of her. “Go back to your place, Sam. We’ve got nothing left to say.”
“Nope.” He released her, but before she could move he planted his arms on either side of her, trapping her. “I’m not letting you get away from me until you’ve given me a fair hearing.”
“Sam, I’m tired. I don’t want to discuss this anymore.”
“All right,” he said. “I can think of somethin’ else to do then.” He picked up the bar of soap she’d been using and worked up a lather.
“Sam-I don’t…I can’t…”
His soap-covered hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs whisking over her nipples. She forced herself to grab his arms to stop him. If she didn’t, she’d find herself giving in to him, letting him press her against the wall as he took her where she stood. Which was exactly what her betraying body wanted.
All her objections scrambled and fled when he sought out the juncture between her thighs and one long finger tickled and teased her clit, never quite touching it. He dipped his head and suckled one of her breasts, his teeth nipping at the hardened bud. Pleasure mixed with pain streaked from her breast to her pussy where his fingers continued their assault.
“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
Unable to say no, yet unable to verbally agree, she gave herself over to the sensations building deep within her. One finger, then another breached her, his thumb taking over the delicious torture outside. He drove her up until every muscle quivered with the need to release. But her brain was spinning too hard, processing Lee-Anne’s proclamation along with Sam’s penchant for domination and that butt plug he’d produced earlier.
“Come for me, baby. Let yourself go.”
“I c-c-can’t.” She shook her head and opened her eyes to see a determined look on his face. He removed his hand from within her and lifted one of her legs behind the knee, pressing the head of his cock to her entrance. The bastard had already donned a condom, he was so frickin’ sure of himself and her acquiescence.
“Do you want this inside you instead?”
Damn him! She should say no, but obviously her brain had no control over her mouth because she heard herself saying, “Yes.”
He drove into her, trapping her between the cool tile and the warmth of his body.
Words tumbled from her lips, curses that changed to benedictions as the sensitive tissues of her pussy stretched then clamped around him, embracing him, milking him. His cock slid out until only his head remained inside her, then rammed deep until she swore she could feel him up as far as her belly button. Once. Twice.
On the third stroke, she shattered.
Her thighs and calf muscles shook when she finally lowered her legs to the shower stall floor. As if he sensed her exhaustion, Sam slipped a hand behind her knees and lifted her. He carried her from the shower. “Grab a towel, will you?”
He set her on the counter between the two sinks, and rested her against him while he wrapped her in thick terry towel she’d captured from the heated rack. Though she tried to protest that she needed to dry her hair properly, he grabbed another towel and rubbed it over her hair. Then he picked her up again and carried her into the bedroom.
“I didn’t come in here to do this, you know?” he said as he lowered her onto the king-sized bed. After settling her in the middle, he slipped in beside her and pulled the covers over them both. “I meant when I said we need to talk. But then I saw you in the shower and… I did tell you how crazy you make me, didn’t I?”
He tried to wrap an arm about her waist and pull her toward him but she pulled away and made a show of fluffing up the pillow as far away as she could get. She smoothed the covers over her, even tucked them in around her body as if they could offer her protection.
“You never did tell me how you got in here. And why are you here? I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear in the limo that we’re through.”
“I came in through the balcony.”
She closed her jaw that had dropped open. “Are you insane?”
“It was pretty cool, actually. You know some women would be swept off their feet that a guy would put themselves in danger like that for them.”
“And the rest of us would be calling the police to report an intruder.” She couldn’t decide which group she was in yet. “You’re wasting your time, Sam. There’s nothing left to say. I’ll stay as your operative until Chad can assign someone else, but no more sex.”
Way to stand up to him on that one, Rosalinda. Say no after you’ve fucked him.
“I’m not prepared to just walk away from what we’ve got, Rosie.”
Why was it so hard to believe him? Oh, yeah. Because Lee-Anne had taunted her about how Sam would be fucking her on the weekend. “Lee-Anne told me about your club, Sam. I know about the orgies and the racks and the floggers and the bull whips.”
“Damn it, Thalia was right.” She had a feeling she wasn’t supposed to hear that part. “All right, I’ll take you to the club tomorrow morning, so you can see for yourself that it’s not as bad as you think.”
“Not as bad as I think? It’s a sex club, Sam.”
“I seem to remember you tellin’ me about how you and your high school sweetheart made out on the Staten Island Ferry. That’s called exhibitionism. I saw that little vibrator you’ve got stuck in your suitcase. That’s called auto-eroticism. Don’t even try to tell me you weren’t turned on when you were blindfolded and bound because my dick told me otherwise. And shall we discuss your penchant for fellatio?”
“I don’t care if someone likes sex where people might see them. I understand the thrill factor in that.” It was the mйnage part that she didn’t care for, not if the partners had agreed there’d be no others in the relationship. “This isn’t about what goes on at the club, Sam. It’s about how you didn’t tell me about your membership in the club in the first place. That you deliberately withheld information that as team leader, I should have had in order to properly protect you. As I said in the car, it’s about your lack of respect for my job.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it was a viable lead. Club members are given a thorough background check as well as a psychological examination. I think you’re a great team leader. I wasn’t trying to disparage you that way, Rosie. Honest.”
The wind deflated from her sails and she sagged back against the pillows, chewing her thumbnail. Despite her argument that it wasn’t about what went on at the club, if she was honest with herself, it was a deal breaker. She wasn’t one who could share someone she loved, share Sam, with another woman. Oh, crap, she loved him. How had that happened? And when?
She groaned. “Oh, God, Chad’s a member too, isn’t he? Lee-Anne said you were the premiere partner in threesomes. Please tell me you wouldn’t have expected me to do him too.”
Anger flared in the back of his eyes. “I could never share you with another man, Rosebud.”
“Oh, I see. I’m not allowed to be with anyone else, but you can fuck whoever you want.”
“What? I’ve n-”
“You said that as long as you were with me there were no others for either of us.” She threw her hands into the air then grabbed the comforter before it slipped off her breasts. Suddenly she felt incredibly naked, incredibly vulnerable. “But what did you mean? As long I’m…what? In the same room? In the same building? Did you mean that as soon as I wasn’t around, you could fuck whoever else gave you a boner? Do I need to go down to the clinic for an STD test?”
“I’d never cheat on you, Rosie. I haven’t been to the club since we’ve been together, and if I do go again it’ll be with you. And what’s all this talk about me cheating on you? You of all people should know that I haven’t been with anyone else. Either you, Andy, Scott or Kris have been with me every minute of the day.”
“Lee-Anne told me all about your little threesome as part of her fiancй’s initiation ritual. The two of you are going to fuck her at the same time in front of everyone, aren’t you?”
His jaw locked together, Sam exhaled through his teeth. “Good investigative technique you’ve got there, sugar. Guilty until proven innocent. But thank you very much for believing that bimbo before askin’ me. And no, I wasn’t planning on being part of her plans. Ever.”
Kicking the covers aside, he swung from the bed and paced. “Lee-Anne is a lying, scheming, social-climbing, cold-hearted, class-A b-”. He stopped mid-stride and looked up, comprehension spreading over his face, blossoming into a wide grin. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? It’s not about the Rouge or me keeping secrets from you. It’s not about your job or the stalker at all. You’re jealous.”
Rosie’s jaw dropped. “Jealous? Of all the arrogant, self-serv-”
“Honey, whenever you think about that bitch, your eyes turn bright green.”
“I am not jealous.” Damn it, then why had she felt like pulling out her Glock and capping Lee-Anne right there in the middle of the party?
Sam’s grin broadened. “Yeah, you are. That’s why you’re so pissed off.” He leaned over the bed and touched his forefinger to her nose. “You, Rosalinda Maria Ramos, are jealous. It’s driving you nuts thinking that I might sleep with someone else.”
Damn it, he was right. When had she become such a possessive bitch? “It’s not jealousy, Sam. It’s disappointment. I trusted you. You gave me your word that while we were together it would just be us.”
“Oh, baby. I don’t know whether to turn you over my knee and spank you for not believing me or to get angry with you for not trusting me. But Lee-Anne Bennett lied to you. I am not going to the club on Saturday. I cancelled out weeks ago-you can check with Chad or Thalia, or even Cooper if you doubt me.”
Intending to do just that, Rosie leaned back against the pillows. “Okay. Let’s say Lee-Anne is lying. I’m not saying she is, but if she is, there’s still the matter about your involvement with the club. Is it true that mйnages are an accepted part of a member’s initiation. Or was she lying about that too?”
He shook his head slowly as if trying to determine where she’d attack. “No-o, pretty much anything goes on initiation night as long as all the participants agree.”
“So these women-the ones at the party tonight were members, right?-do they have sex with anyone they want? Anywhere they want? Or do you guys order them who to do claiming you’re their masters?” Do they parade around naked and shove their tits in your face? Do they wrap themselves around you like that Tawny woman who draped herself around Kris tonight? How could she ever measure up to such surgical perfection? And yet the idea of the club wasn’t as appalling as she’d first thought. As long as there were no other women in the club that looked like Tawny or Mandy.
“Ah.” The mattress dipped when he resumed his place beside her. “You think I might be tempted by one of them?”
Hell yes. Even I found some of them attractive. “It’s a reasonable concern.”
He unclenched her fingers from the comforter and twined them with his. “I have not-” he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, “-am not-” he kissed the inside of her wrist, “-and will not be with any other woman as long as you’re in my life.”
With a quick move, he tugged her until she lay on top of him. His hands cupping her behind, he leaned up and kissed the tip of her nose. “I will never cheat on you, Rosie. I promise.”
She straddled him and sat up, feeling his cock twitch against her behind. “If I do find you’ve ever cheated on me, Samuel James Watson, I’ll cut off your dick and…and…”
Sam snorted. “And what? Feed it to the lions at the zoo? Why not? Since Kris’ll be tossing them my balls as a snack. That’s what he threatened me with that first night you ran out of here and he and Scott were in the hall. Besides, Scott’s already promised to shove my dick down my throat if I hurt you.”
“Really? That’s so sweet.” She allowed herself a private grin. Looked like both Kris and Scott needed to get a big thank you. Maybe she could set one of them up on a date with Sandy.
“So are we good?” He arched his hips, his erection bumping into her ass. “’Cause I was thinking maybe it was time for some make-up sex.”
She wiggled against him to add to his torment, and hers, but shook her head. “Not yet. I still have a few questions for you.”
“Dang.” He heaved a long suffering sigh. “All right, ask away.”
“I guess my main question is why you hadn’t told me about the club before? I mean, you had to know I would have heard something at the party tonight.”
He shrugged “Never came up. I haven’t been there in a while, and I wasn’t planning on taking you there any time soon.”
She let his evasion slide-maybe taking her there was one of those Freudian things that he’d avoided telling her but knew she’d find out…it was all too complicated. “If I do go to this place, would you expect me to have sex with you out in full view of everyone? Or with another guy at the same time as you?” Damn it, there had to be something wrong with her to be so intrigued by the idea. She thought back to the party, and all the leather pants and…Tawny’s collar, and Sam’s joke about not needing collars and leashes to get him hard. “You’re not going to expect me to parade around on a leash like a dog, are you? Because I have to tell you, I’m not willing to debase myself like that.”
“The Rouge isn’t strictly for Dominants and subs,” he explained patiently. “It can be whatever a member wants it to be. Yes, you’ll see submissives being led around on a leash by their Dominant. Yes, you’ll see public displays of sex, oral and otherwise. But some couples just use it as a way to get away from the kids, the in-laws, you know? They keep what goes on between them behind closed doors.
“And the singles, well, it gets all that will-she-or-won’t-she out of the way. When a member walks in those big red front doors, it’s a given they’re looking for a partner for the night. They can hook up at the public areas just like any bar in D.C.” He paused and she got the feeling he was censoring himself. So what wasn’t he telling her this time? “There are a few rules but mainly as long as it follows the Safe, Sane and Consensual rule, anything goes.”
“So there’s all sorts of kinky stuff going on. Fetish stuff? Like guys who want to lick your feet? Or drip hot wax on you so they can get off?”
He nodded.
Images of Sam wearing the black leather chaps she’d seen him wearing when riding his motorcycle haunted her. What she’d give to see him wear them and nothing else. To feel the cool leather against the back of her thighs while he bent her over a table in front of Thalia or Cooper or… She exhaled slowly, pressing her thighs together to ease the throb in her pussy.
“How does someone even start a club like that? Do you put an ad in the paper or post something on the net saying ‘Hey I like threesomes, let’s meet, we’ll do lunch then we can fuck each other senseless?’ ”
He snorted. “Not exactly.”
Her curiosity got the better of her. “So how did you end up being a founding member?”
“Shit, you want the whole story?”
She nodded and rolled off him, snuggling under his arm.
“Okay.” He scrubbed his hands across his face. “A little over eight years ago, while I was still with the FBI, the Bureau had been tracking a serial killer who targeted members of the scene. It started with two separate incidents in California. The killer shot his victims then ritually mutilated their bodies. When it made the news, police departments in Miami and Chicago realized they’d had similar cases over the previous couple of years. A couple months later, a group were killed in a dungeon scene in Houston that had the same markers. They had a general description of the suspect, and a credible tip that he’d headed here to D.C. The Porte didn’t exist at that time, but there was a fairly active Dungeon scene. Back then there was no membership vetting as such. Anyone could show up at a couple of munches, talk the talk, get an invite to the scene and they’d be let in. No one knew your background or if you were there for the scene or to blackmail someone.
“I remember reading about it in the news. I was in college at the time so I didn’t pay much attention, but I remember being surprised that someone hadn’t been hurt before.”
“These groups are usually pretty good at sniffing out anyone who might cause problems, and they let other groups know of any nutjobs to be wary of. Anyway, Chad was the Supervisory Special Agent in Charge; he decided to send a team in undercover in hopes that we’d find the killer before he struck again.”
“How did they choose you? Or were you already part of the scene?”
“I wasn’t into the scene at the time, but when you apply to the FBI they do a full background check and I guess they learned a few things from a couple old girlfriends. As you’ve already figured out, I was-am-more liberal about sex than most.”
“I imagine going to a place where women are required to treat you like you’re their lord and master was a huge sacrifice,” she said drily.
Irritation radiated off him as he shoved himself off the bed and began pacing. “When you start off in the scene, even if you’re a Dominant, especially if you’re a Dominant, you undergo training to learn how to properly handle a sub. Not all clubs work that way, but this one did.”
“Let me guess, Leash Handling 101? How about Flogging for Dummies?” He’d stopped pacing, his back turned to her, the muscles on his arms bulging as he tensed. She shook her head, “It was a joke. I’m sorry. I’ll stop being such a smart ass. Go on.”
“In order to be a good Master, you have to learn what you’re asking of your slaves. So you start off as a sub.”
She couldn’t stop her laughter and quickly clamped her hand over her mouth at the mental picture of Sam wearing a leather dog collar while meekly being led around on a leash. More likely he’d rip the leash out of the person’s hands and drag them behind him. “I’m sorry. I just can’t picture you submitting to anyone.”
After he’d shot her another look sideways, he continued, “I had to serve a mistress who acted as my mentor and taught me techniques that would help me be a good Dominant while-” he hesitated, swallowing hard, “-the other agent who volunteered pretended to be my girlfriend who wanted to learn how to be a good sub.”
“And this was with the FBI’s blessing?” What the hell type of report would have to be filed?
“We had to give reports to our supervisor regularly, yes.”
“But no one in the club knew you were there as spies though?”
He scratched the long scar down the middle of his chest. “Cooper was in charge of the scene even back then, so he knew who we were, but he thought it best if no one else knew. Thalia is Chad’s sister. At the time she knew he was sending someone in, but not exactly who. Since she was the most experienced Domme, we were assigned her as our trainer. I guess she suspected that we weren’t who we said we were, but since there’d been a lot of emails flying around the scene about the murders, she wasn’t sure if we were the killers or her brother’s agents. So she questioned us.”
Something about the way he said it told her the questioning was more than a standard interrogation. “What happened?”
There was a long silence but whether he was lost in his memories or trying to decide just how much information she could handle, she couldn’t tell. He finally settled for “Unless you’ve been part of the scene, you couldn’t understand, but there are techniques a Dom can use to scramble a sub’s circuits so they’ll not be able to dissemble. Neither of us broke cover but Thalia deduced enough to realize we’re the good guys.”
There was more to the story, but she didn’t want him to lose momentum, so she decided to jump ahead. “Did you ever catch the killer?”
His hand drifted to the star-shaped bullet wound and his expression hardened. “Eventually.”
Her breath drew in sharply. “Is that how you got shot?”
“Yeah.” His pacing started again. “We’d met the guy before; he didn’t set off any alarms with either of us. He was just a guy you’d wave to if you saw him washing his car in his driveway down the street. The other members said he’d been there quite a few times before we’d joined and taken part in a couple scenes. We figured that’s when he was scoping out the place, picking his targets. Then when he felt secure that no one was suspicious of him, he came back.”
“Makes sense. That’s how I’d do it.”
He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Jill wasn’t feeling good so we’d stopped in to beg out of a scene. We were leaving when he came in. I saw him raise his gun and went for my weapon but he shot me before I could get a round off.” He took a deep breath, his eyes unfocusing as his memories took him back to that night. “Then he…” He cleared his throat. “He shot Jill.”
Jill! The girl in the picture on his mantel.
His fingers curled into fists, the skin white over the knuckles before he stared at them and consciously flexed them. His voice hardened. “I got lucky. I walked out of the hospital with this.” He gestured to his chest. “Jill died in my arms just as the paramedics arrived. And Thalia…well, I didn’t shoot him fast enough to help her. She was already paralyzed by the time I killed the bastard.”
Oh, Lord, so much pain he was carrying, so much guilt.
His eyes were bleak, his voice flat. “I failed them, Rosie. I was sent in to stop the killer, to protect them, and I failed.”
She reached out then, stopping him mid-pace and dragged him toward her, then knelt on the bed and cupped his face in her hands. “It’s not your fault, Sam.”
“Yeah, it is.” A dark look flickered behind his eyes. He rested his forehead against hers and swallowed hard. “Anyway, the other members kept me from going to pieces after Jill died. They visited me in the hospital, and when I got out, they phoned me if no one heard from me for a couple of days. Even though most of them were being harassed by the media and nutjobs that came out of the woodwork telling them they deserved to die. They looked after me, especially during the internal inquiry that ended up with Chad being fired. They were there when no one else was. Even Thalia kept in touch.”
She patted the bed beside her. When he’d stretched out beside her, she lay her head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. Once his breathing slowed, she asked, “So how’d La Porte Rouge get started?”
“After the media finally got tired of their exposйs of the group, and ruined more than one career, Cooper got together with some of the more influential club members. They decided to create an elite club. Somewhere they could feel safe from looky-loos and potential blackmailers, or whackjobs who wanted to cleanse the world of sinners like the guy who killed Jill. By that time I’d left the FBI, so Coop approached me about designing a proper security system for them. They made me a founding partner, which gave me enough money to start Hauberk. And it gave me access to influential clients who needed personal protection.”
After a few minutes, Rosie shifted so she could look him in the eye. As much as she wanted to discuss the past, she knew she had to concentrate on protecting Sam in the here and now. “I know you trust the founding members, but isn’t it possible that your stalker is one of the other members?”
“That was one of the first things I thought of. I went through the membership list, but frankly, there are days I trust most of the Rouge’s members more than I do some of my own operatives.”
Strange how he could find people into BDSM more trustworthy than her co-workers. But she supposed there had to be an incredible amount of trust to allow someone such power over your body and soul.
“How can you be sure?”
“The only way you can become a member of the Rouge is to be sponsored by a member who has been acquainted with you for at least two years. All initiates have to undergo a thorough psychological, medical and security screening before they’re admitted. We don’t allow anyone with a record, especially of drug use. We have to use a bit more leeway when it comes to abuse charges since sometimes society doesn’t understand the games between scene players. Even once you’re a member, we do regular background checks on everyone and all members have to pass semi-annual medical and psychological assessments to make sure no one’s put at risk. And you have to sign a contract stating what your preferences are and agreeing to respect other members’ choices.”
“But surely there are personality clashes. People who object to something or other-either another member or perhaps a rule being enforced, or not being enforced?”
“The public areas are filmed so we can go back to the tapes to make an independent assessment. If the complaint occurs in a private area, then both the complainant and the accused must submit to another psychological assessment. And they’ll have a hearing in front of the Board where they’re required to answer any questions put to them. They fail any of the tests, they’re out. No appeals.”
“Sounds like it’s tougher to be a member of the club than it is to be hired by Hauberk.”
“It is.”
She leaned back against him once more, and pondered the newly lit avenues of possibilities. “Has anyone been kicked out lately?”
“No. And there haven’t been any complaints either.”
She frowned. Damn it. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. “How many members are there?”
“Just over a hundred. But some of them don’t live on the east coast, they keep a membership for when they’re visiting.”
Expensive if membership was a million bucks a pop. “How many founding members are there?”
“Ten now.”
“Now?”
“There were twelve of us originally-but we’ve lost two in the last couple years.”
She went still. “Lost? As in died?”
“You’re thinking this may be related?” Sam shook his head. “It’s not. Josh died in a plane crash about seven months ago, and Deidre died a couple years ago when some drunk ran a red light and T-boned her.” He twined his fingers with hers, lifting them to his lips. “The stalker isn’t a club member, Rosie. And even if they were, why stalk only me, why not Coop or one of the others?”
She huffed and untangled her fingers from his hold. “Even so, there could be a connection that you can’t see because you’re too close to the picture. I want to see the member files-I may be able to see something because I’m not familiar with them.” Other than the ones she watched on the evening news or considered giving her vote. Ay bendito! No wonder they were so rabid about security.
He shook his head. “I don’t want you at the club and Coop won’t let the files leave. Send Andy to look at them. Please.”
“I thought you said you trusted the members.”
He sighed. “I do. But…I don’t want you there.”
She wanted to ask why, but considering the way she’d reacted about his membership, about the club’s very existence, she could hardly fault him. He probably figured she’d freak out. But strangely, she found herself wanting an inside look-because that would allow her a peek into Sam Watson himself. A part she’d sensed he’d kept private, hidden, all along. And maybe she’d find out more about herself.
His cell phone chirruped and with a curse, he checked the caller ID and answered it. From his clipped speech and intense focus, it was important. Three minutes later he ended the call and cursed again.
“Colombia?”
“Yeah. Troy got word that the hostages have been moved again and we’ve lost track of them.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Look, don’t tell Scott, all right? He’s still blaming himself because he got out and they didn’t.”
They discussed the options for freeing the remaining hostages late into the night before she finally felt confident in returning to the original subject.
“I want to go to the club in the morning and see the files for myself, Sam.”
He groaned. “No, Rosie. That’s not gonna happen.”
“It’s a viable lead and as your team leader I have to check it out.”
His hold on her tightened and his voice came out as a growl, “Then send Andy and Scott or Kris or someone. I don’t want you there.”
“Sam…either you trust these people or you don’t. You can’t have it both ways. And either way, I’m going to the club and take a look at those files.”
“Has anyone ever told you, you’re like a hound dog on a hare’s trail?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “All right, I’ll take you over there in the morning myself and let you satisfy your curiosity about the place. But you’re taking Andy as your own personal bodyguard and you do not leave the office area, you hear me?”
“All right, I’ll take Andy with me, but will you please stop treating me like I’m breakable?”
How could she not realize that she wasn’t immortal? He’d already lost one woman he loved, he couldn’t bear to lose Rosie too.
He rested his forehead against the top of her head, pulling her against him. Somehow, when he wasn’t looking, their relationship had become about more than just sex, more than just kink. She’d wrapped herself about his heart and he found himself enjoying being bound.
Ever since he’d lost Jill, he’d been careful in his choice of dates. They had to be someone he couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life with, women who wanted him for his looks, his money, or simply for a good fuck. Women he could keep at a distance. Yet he’d totally ignored that rule with Rosie from the get-go.
Rosie was someone he could picture marrying, having kids with, taking home to his momma who would adore her almost as much as he…oh shit. As much as he loved her. He hadn’t felt that way about anyone in years. Eight years.
She looked up at him, her eyes dark and promising in the dim light, her lips slightly parted in an open invitation to kiss her. Unable to pull away, he accepted her invitation. Her mouth was soft, her breath warm on his cheek, her body so tiny compared to his. His little rose, so beautiful, so fragrant, who opened only for him.
He was already hard when he tossed the sheet off her and rolled her onto her back. Her hair draped wildly over the pillow, a thundercloud around her creamy skin. Dipping his head, he took one puckered nipple into his mouth, reveling in the breathless gasp as she arched beneath him. He stole a look at her-her eyes were closed, her fingers clutching the pillow on either side of her head. If he were a painter, he’d paint her just like this and entitle it “Ecstasy Encaptured”.
Releasing her breast, he laid a trail of kisses over her belly, then slid his hands beneath her hips and lifted her. She was already glistening as he dropped his head and tasted her again, reveled in her. Her hands clutched his head, holding him in place as she lifted higher, an attempt to control where and what his tongue touched. When she was swollen and gasping for breath, his cock harder than granite, his balls aching, he grabbed a condom he’d dropped on the night table and sheathed himself. Then he planted his arms on either side of her head, his cock nudging her entrance, and she smiled at him, her eyes luminous, filled with such tenderness it sucked his breath from him.
She wrapped her legs about his waist as he entered her. He’d intended to make love to her slowly, gently, but as soon as her heat enveloped him he couldn’t hold back and buried himself to the hilt. His hips pistoned, pounding into her until they were both gasping for air.
Her fingers wrapped around his biceps, her nails digging in as if she were holding onto him like a life preserver, half her body lifted off the mattress, clenching around him.
He dipped his head, caught her mouth with his, capturing her scream as she climaxed around him. The heat surrounding him, the pulses of her orgasm sent him over the edge.
Late in the night, as Rosie lay nestled against him, Sam smoothed her hair away from face, and wondered just how she’d managed to worm her way not only into his life, but into his heart.