She knew she pouted, but he was too busy looking at her pussy to see it anyway.
Still, he knew her very well. “Don’t pout, it’ll be even better if you make yourself wait.”
Unable to stop the laugh, she let it erupt. “Cripes, you know, some ladies are a mystery to their lovers.”
His gaze, glossy and filled with want, found its way to hers. “And some ladies have mates instead of lovers. Mates who know them inside and out and love them all the more for it.”
Her lips remained in a smile. “So fucking smooth.”
He thrust up a little harder, swiveling his hips. “I know what my lady likes.”
This was it. The thing most people dreamed of, or hell, didn’t begin to believe was even real. Laughing, loving, connected relationships seemed like a storyline in one of her books and she had it not just once, but here, again and forever, with Jude.
She tried to tease herself awhile longer, but they both knew she’d weaken and push herself over so when she did, he groaned and began to thrust up over and over as she writhed, full with him, her inner muscles squeezing around his cock.
He snarled a curse and dug his fingers into her hips as he came. Rori fell forward, both of them getting breath back as they lay there quietly.
“Can I open my presents today?”
He snorted a laugh. “Tonight at midnight. That’s the rule.”
“Gah, even when I let you get to third base, you won’t let me open any presents? You’re mean.”
“I am. It’s my cross to bear.” He sat upright, bringing her with him. “And I think I got past third base a long time ago. What shall we do today?”
“Have more sex?”
“That’s a given. But I’ll let you rest a little before we get back to it again.” His grin was quick and sure. “The downtown area looks nice. Want to hit a few galleries and have lunch?”
“Yes. And when we get back, I’ll make margaritas because I totally brought the blender. And we can play some cards.”
He set her on her feet. “You’re vicious at cards. It’s really sexy.”
“I’m a little, um, sticky. A shower and then some breakfast would be good. Then shopping. Yes, shopping sounds mighty fine.” She scampered off in the direction of the bathroom, knowing he’d be along shortly.
Jude stretched and called ahead to the concierge to get some ideas on where to lunch. It was Christmas Eve after all and he figured better safe to get reservations than to be hungry and frustrated by either a long wait or going place to place.
Once that was handled, he grabbed a shower, heroically not jumping on her again, and they drove into town where the concierge had told them a bakery would have freshly baked offerings, good coffee and she’d been right.
“Despite that skanky ho-bag who would have hit me over the head with her coffee pot if you’d given her any indication you were interested, I gotta say, this is the best bearclaw I’ve ever had. Good call on skipping the restaurant at the inn to go here instead.”
She looked like a fucking angel there on the sidewalk, snow falling around her, her hair peeking from beneath the hat, eyes wide with excitement.
“I got your back, darlin’. Don’t worry, if any skanky ho-bags come at you with coffee pots I’ll trip ’em before they get close.”
“Ha. I can take out the ho-bags all on my own. I’m an Olympic gold medalist at it by now.” She muttered a little more and he kissed her temple, smiling. Truth was he rarely noticed it when women hit on him these days.
“You know I don’t give a crap about any of that, right?”
She looked up at him with a smile. “Yeah, yeah. You can still walk, can’t you? If I thought you cared, this would be a whole different conversation. It’s hard to get used to, but I think I finally am. And they’re not as bad as they used to be back home.”
Yeah, he thought it had gotten easier in town. Oh, he knew many people thought he was a rebound, or that he’d step out on her, but the longer they’d been together, the more they’d been a unit everywhere they went, the doubters had begun to realize they’d been wrong.
It stung, he admitted, that people had judged him as such a player. Mainly because he’d given them all a reason to believe he might fuck things up. She’d changed him, shaken him hard enough that losing her had taught him the best lesson he’d ever had.
Years later now, he knew without a single doubt in his mind that she was his and they had a forever type thing. The thought of it had scared him so much that it had taken losing it entirely for him to see Rori for the incredible woman she was, for understanding she was a person who made him whole.
And beyond his wildest hopes, she’d come to him again and given him a second chance. Man could live a long, happy life with that kind of luck.
“You’re up to something. I do like that about you.” She took his hand again now that she’d finished the bearclaw.
He flashed her a grin. “I’m always up to something when it comes to you. That’s how I roll.”
She laughed as they set out down the picturesque street, pausing to look in windows or to stop and look at this or that. Once she was inside a Christmas-themed shop and oohing and aaahing over stuff, he told her he’d left his gloves a few stores back and would run to get them. She asked him to grab her a hot cider on the way back, which worked out, giving him some extra time to run an errand he didn’t want her to know about.
Once she paused to watch the retreat of his denim-covered ass, she headed three doors down.
***
“I propose—” he strolled into the room with the cards as she worked the blender, “—that we get ourselves into a game of strip gin.”
Turning to look at him better, she rested her hip against the counter. Her muscles were loose and relaxed, a product of the couples massage he’d surprised her with upon their return. Who’d have thought heated stones between your toes could make a girl feel so good?
“I’m on board with that.” Especially as he was far better at gin than she was so she’d be naked faster, necessitating more hot sex. Which, of course, was why he proposed it.
He sat, shuffling the deck as she brought him his drink and settled in across from him. “I’m quite sure you are planning to cheat to get me naked.”
Again that grin, the one that dropped panties for miles around but only belonged to her these days. Never failed to send a flash of desire straight to all her pink places.
“Now, to be fair, Roberta, I do believe I’ve had you naked a time or two.” He dealt the cards while she sipped her drink.
She sighed happily, choosing to ignore his use of her given name to tease. “Yes, yes you have. You’re very good at that. One of those naturals. Though, I have to tell you I had such filthy fantasies about you when I was a teenager.”
His gaze slid from his cards to her face. “You made a reference to that some years ago but never got specific. You should.”
First setting her drink aside, Rori leaned forward, licking her lips, drawing out the tease, and whispered in his ear. “I used to think about the times you’d come over to our house and I’d sneak out and we’d talk for hours. I always felt like I got to see the secret side of you, made me feel special.”
She knew he’d be smiling.
“So one night, as we were sitting on your tailgate and looking up at the stars, you’d lean into me and kiss me. All sudden-like. You’d even use your tongue like I saw you do with Natalie Prater at the Dairy Queen.”
He laughed, squeezing her waist. “And what else did I do to you then?”
“Oh I don’t know. You told me you loved me and that I was the prettiest girl you’d ever seen and we got married. I was fifteen. I probably let you feel me up though.”
She found herself on her back on the couch with him looming over her. “Oh yeah?”
“Y-yeah.”
He bent to kiss the lips she’d just licked nervously. “I don’t know if you’d have been ready for me back then.” He kissed her again, sucking
the sense right out of her head. “I sure wouldn’t have been ready for you. So very fierce and serious.”
He sat and turned the force of his attention back to her again. “So, Rori, what say we make this game interesting? How about the loser of each round has to take off a piece of clothing?”
She swallowed, hard, when she realized he’d put on that seventeen-year-old self.
“Only if you want to.” The corner of his mouth rose, just a bit. “We can stop if you think we go too far.”
She twirled a curl around her finger. “All right. But you can’t tell anyone.”
“Sugar, do you think I’d do that? What we do together is meant for us.”
Damn he was good. Cripes, no wonder half the town drooled after him.
They played and predictably, she lost and teased him, taking an earring off. He shook his head.
“Never pegged you for a cheater.”
She took off a sock instead.
“That’s better. I like that color.” He pulled her foot into his lap and began to massage it. Holy cow he was good with his hands.
On it went. She managed to beat him back a few times until he had no socks and no shirt. But that only made him hotter, sitting there in low-slung jeans and bare feet, the fiend.
“Ah, there we go.” He watched, gaze sliding down her legs where she’d taken her jeans off.
She blushed, feeling quite distinctly a lot like that girl she’d been. That a man with a face and a body like Jude would turn eyes filled with desire and attraction on her gave her butterflies.
She wasn’t wearing a bra, having taken it off before the massage and not bothering to put it back on after. One more loss and she’d be down to her panties. Hot damn.
“Well and lookit that.” He tallied up the round and underlined his score. “Looks like I win in more ways than one.” He put his cards down, slowly, with that deliberateness he had and then made his way to her. “I want to see you,” he said, his lips against hers.
The kiss was a slow, gentle exploration of her mouth. Teasing her lips open, and then sliding inside, his tongue sinuous against hers.
His body never fully made contact with her at any point but their lips. But she felt him anyway, the heat and force of him. All that energy and chemistry he exuded brushed against her.
And then he drew away, staying close enough she could see the swell of his lips and know hers looked the same. “Show yourself to me.”
Swallowing hard, she brought her shaky hands to the hem of her sweater and pulled it up and off. The air against her bare skin felt good, but the look on his face was better. Reverence, admiration, desire. And possession.
He traced a fingertip from her belly button ring up the valley between her breasts, up over and then across the blade of her collarbone, a ghost of a touch rimming the hollow of her throat and then, he collared her.
The breath whooshed from her as the intensity of her response spread like wildfire. Startling her with just how much, just how good it felt to have his hand around her throat. Not squeezing. Not harming. Just holding in a hand big enough and strong enough to do damage should he want to.
And her total trust he never would.
What had been seeded deep within her the longer she loved Jude, what had been digging roots and quietly becoming stronger, flowered. He possessed her. Yes, he loved her, yes he dominated her in bed, topped her, but this, this was something else.
Everything inside went still. All she saw, felt, smelled was him. This is what it felt like to be owned by someone, heart and soul. Not owned like a slave, or a thing, but to belong to someone as they belonged to you.
Her pupils swallowed the color in her eyes as her breath caught and then exhaled hard and shaky. It fascinated him to watch her face as she fell into her submission so deeply.
But this was different. More. Something inside him clicked into place and when he took her mouth again, it was far beyond the teasing fantasy play they’d been engaging in.
“I think I need to make those beams up there do their thing. Bring me the bag.” He stood, helping her to stand.
Glad he’d decided to invest in the better suspension cuffs to hold her wrists and arms more comfortably for her, he rigged the line up and over the beam and tested his weight on it.
When he turned his gaze to her again, she watched him carefully. Her nipples stood out, hard and dark.
“Come here and bring those black cuffs there.” He indicated the cuffs he’d laid on the nearby bed, knowing she’d have peeked at them over and over as he worked.
She did, holding her hands out once she’d given him the cuffs. Gooseflesh rose on her skin as he put the cuffs on her, tightening them, monitoring her reactions as he did.
She was on board, he could tell not only by the way she thrust herself closer, but by the hitch in her breathing, by the way she licked her lips and eagerly followed his instructions.
And when he pulled the line, tautening it, bringing her arms up, slowly, over her head, they both sighed.
He tied off the line on the arm of the nearby chair. An easily broken slipknot as he never wanted to be unable to pull her free as quickly as possible.
The position was one of his favorites, her back arched, breasts thrust forward. He circled her slowly, leaning in to brush a kiss on her shoulder, or a caress at her hip.
He held up the longer flogger and the crop. “Which one, darlin’?” He flicked the crop, loving the sound, the weight in his hand. The flogger creaked, the leather of the handle fitting his palm like he was meant to wield it. He twirled it, sending the tails swishing. A deceptively soft sound.
He drew the tails over the small of her back, against the top of her ass and down, against the backs of her thighs.
Yes.
“I think so too.” He bent to put the crop away.
When she was like this, there was nothing else. Arms above her head, the cuffs lovingly wrapped snugly around each wrist, she was utterly at his mercy. Totally on display. She loved it. Craved it.
Her skin was alive as she waited for the first lick of the tails. He knew she waited and drew it out. Circling her over and over, he drew the flogger over her nipples, over her belly and thighs, over her back and ass and just as she’d been lulled into a dreamy, sort of sleepy state, the first strike.
The tails, leather and suede on the outside and rubber on the inside, kissed just this shy of pain against the place where thigh met ass.
The only reason she was able to keep her eyes open was how much she loved to watch the expression he wore as he flogged or used the crop on her. Arrogant, intense with concentration. Every few strokes he’d look into her face to be sure she was all right. She loved that too.
She pulled against the cuffs. Not to get free, she could if she just said the word. But the struggle, the faux struggle, stretched her muscles in her back, arched her closer to him.
The heat of the strokes of the flogger tails built over her ass and thighs, against her mound—and what an unexpectedly hot discovery that had been—and then he played them with perfect strength against her nipples, making them throb in all the best ways.
Hands, sure and strong, undid the cuffs and took her weight, tossing her up and over his shoulder as he carried her into the alcove where the bed was. Which was good as there was no way she could have walked just then.
Gentle kisses laid a trail over her chest and shoulders. Hands that had her hair held in a fist now caressed and soothed. This was the other half, the part that made the first so incredibly intense. This was who they were, strong and dark sometimes. Edgy and yet, there was genuine love, friendship, a concern for the happiness and well-being of the mate. It made her safe and content as well as thrilled and titillated. The balance was different than it had been with Zach. But no less strong, no less tangible and sweet.
One day perhaps she’d tell him so, but not now. This was about the two of them and the path they forged with each touch. Her fearless, protective, bossy male stepping more fully
into his role as her man.
“I love you,” she managed to say, used to and still surprised each time by the slow honey of her voice when he’d tipped her into subspace.
“Ah, beauty, what you do to me.” He kissed her chin.
Drawn to him, she found the energy to slide her palms up his sides. “More. Please.”
He knelt to get his jeans down and off. No drawers. She managed a snort of laughter which quickly died away when she gasped at the sight of his cock. Hard, so hard it tapped his belly.
All because of her. All for her.
When her gaze managed to tear from his wedding tackle, she caught that look on his face. That knowing he had of what made her the most weak-kneed and hot.
“I’m going to fuck the hell out of you.”
If he hadn’t rendered her absolutely senseless with that statement, she’d have told him how very on board she was with that. She may have managed a nod though, because that grin ghosted over his mouth as he settled in between her thighs.
She writhed, trying to get closer as he fisted his cock and pumped a few times.
“Ah, ah, ah, hands to yourself. I’m just looking my fill at you. Wet. God, your pussy is dark and swollen. And your tits.” He sighed happily, all the while continuing to withhold himself, knowing how much she wanted that cock inside her.
“Your nipples are hard and swollen, it only makes the rings look hotter. Your skin…” with his free hand, he trailed a fingertip over the marks the flogger had left behind, up her belly and over each nipple, “…is such a pretty, pale pink where the flogger kissed it.”
His gaze, which had been following his hand up her body, returned to her face with a snap of attention. She’d been nearly panting, but the breath snagged in her throat at how he looked at her.
“Knees up.”
She closed her eyes a second as she quickly complied, spreading herself open wide. But instead of following to fuck her, he got to his belly and pressed his face to her pussy, bringing a gasp tearing from her gut and her hips up and into his mouth.
Orgasm hit her hard and fast, but he didn’t stop. He pushed her up and over a second time and even as she still sought to catch her breath, he moved and began to push inside.