H.E.A.T. Book Bundle (H.E.A.T. Books 1-3)

by Nicola Claire

  He’ll be released on parole later this year.

  That’s why she’s come home.

  I don’t know what to do with this information. I don’t know how to process it. How to proceed. Do I confront her? Bring up a part of her life she’s running from? Make her relive it all over again? But my need to know how bad it was, how much damage it did, is all consuming.

  I pour myself a Scotch and sit and stare at the clouds as dusk turns to night and the stars attempt to shine through the gaps in the heavens. I sit there for two hours nursing that one glass of whisky.

  And I come to a conclusion. Haydee will never suffer like that again. Even if it means she never relives it, never tells me exactly what happened. Even if I have to watch how far I push for her company, even if I have to deny myself the tools needed to see to her care in the most efficient and knowledgeable ways. I know enough.

  I know Haydee was manipulated to such a degree that things she had said were taken out of context and used against her.

  I know her stalker was unpredictable, so much so she was caught off guard on several occasions in public settings.

  I know she had trusted him and he had let her down in the most sinister of ways.

  I know enough. And it will never happen to her again.

  It is with a heavy heart and a turbulent mind that I make my way home to Redoubt Road. To my Haydee. She’s mine now, there’s no denying it. I’d like to think I’d claimed her before I knew an iota of her past. And it’s true. But I can’t deny the resolve that has settled over me since my phone call to England this evening. I can’t deny my need to protect her has been shot into overdrive, blasted into outer space.

  Haydee trusted him. She believed him someone he was not. And she paid the price.

  I unlock my back door and enter the alarm code. Then make my way to my office, switching on lights as I progress through my sprawling home. The dining room beckons to the side. I can’t help but flick a glance at the table, up to the chandelier. The office is a mesmerising light at the end of a very dark tunnel. I stand inside the doorway and stare at the desk. Haydee has marked my house. It’s as much hers now as it is mine.

  I drop my briefcase on the desk, not bothering to unpack it, and then take the stairs two at a time up to the second floor. There’s a fireplace in the bedroom, already set and waiting to be lit. I check the time and set a match to the kindling, watching as the flames lick higher inside the hearth.

  I have to tread carefully. My need to protect her has me wanting to just hold her in my arms. Do nothing more than whisper sweet words in her ear. Promises of safety. Assurances of trust.

  But I can’t do that. Haydee sees me in one light and one light only. She sees me as the man who comes to her rescue out under the stars, but doesn’t release her. She sees me as the man who gives her safety, while setting her free to explore her sexual side. She sees me as her master, who will take care of her needs. The man who chains her to him and then uses her body for his own release.

  Haydee needs that. She needs to know I control everything. Without that control she would be lost.

  As would I.

  It’s unfair. It crushes my heart. For the first time in twenty-five years I understand my lifestyle completely. And I wish it wasn’t needed at all. For her. For me. For both of us.

  But it is. Needed. I need her complete submission. And she needs me to dominate within certain set criteria.

  The bedroom.

  In public.

  Everywhere.

  Haydee needs me to handle it all, so she can breathe easy. Knowing she won’t say the wrong word and have it used against her. Knowing the chain is my promise to her, and when she wears it, that promise is reconfirmed. Knowing I will punish her for bad behaviour and reward her for good. Knowing I will lose myself in her body, any way I so choose. Knowing she will be set free in exquisite release, and still feel safe enough to enjoy it. Knowing it will happen every single time.

  She needs it. So I will give it her. Even though all I want is to hold her close, keep her safe, block out the rest of this ugly, foul world.

  I’ll give her what she needs. And maybe, with time, we’ll trust each other enough to keep each other’s secrets.

  I hear the door downstairs open, the alarm beeps its warning and then silence. If she is climbing the stairs, I do not hear her steps. She floats, this woman I am growing more fond of with every day. She glides. Such grace in face of such horror. How has she survived?

  I turn as she enters the room. She’s surprised I’m here, waiting. And ordinarily, I’d let her set herself up without my interference. But the need to see her overrides any sane thoughts. Relief is the first emotion I feel. She’s unharmed. Lust is quickly on its tail.

  I smile, running my eyes over her dress and heels. I love her high heels, they make her statuesque. The dress is simple, but well made. It moulds to her figure, hugging the curves and accentuating her assets. She has so many, I can’t even count.

  I spread my arm out and indicate the bed.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I enquire.

  Her head tips down and she walks towards the large platform that dominates the room. I can already picture her golden skin against the plush black bedspread. Her hair will be lost in amongst the dark colours, but her body will shine like a precious metal.

  She starts stripping with each sensual step she takes. First one shoe, then she steps lightly out of the other. The dress slides down her perfect body and pools on the rug beside the bed. Her bra is next, then her lace panties. And finally, one leg up, foot resting on the side of the bed, and she methodically takes off her stocking. Unhooking it from the garter belt, rolling it down slowly, as though she has the entire night to get into position as requested.

  “You’re teasing, Haydee,” I remark. “I might just have to punish you for it.”

  She doesn’t speed up. If anything, she goes slower. I’ll take that as a “Yes, please.”

  I’m smiling, I realise. And quickly school my features. I lean back against the mantle to the fireplace and watch as she climbs up onto the massive frame. Her willowy body dwarfed by its utterly ridiculous size. I know for a fact that four people can easily sleep in it. At least, one man and three women can.

  But looking at Haydee as she lies back on the bedspread with such an infinite look of peace on her sweet features and I can’t imagine the bed taking more than just her. She’s made for it. She’s made for me.

  I watch as she adjusts her chain, making sure it lies down between her breasts and pools just above her pubis. A straight line to her centre that seems to taunt. I’m rock hard in my pants, and I realise I’m still in uniform when I glance down at my erection. No wonder she was so surprised when she walked in the bedroom.

  For a moment, regret fills me. Haydee doesn’t do well with surprises. But then I tell myself, it’s not this sort of surprise that she fears. Perhaps the uniform reassures her. It’s hard to guess, but her relaxed form suggests she’s calm.

  I walk to the end of the bed and look down at her body. Her eyes are on my epaulets, not my face. Still submissive, but curious.

  “Do you know what these mean?” I ask. She shakes her head, biting that bottom lip of hers, letting me know she’s unsure if she’s broken a rule by looking at them. “A crown and one pip,” I say. “It means I’m a superintendent. I’m a divisional head in the New Zealand Police. It means,” I say, starting to undo my tie and top shirt buttons, “that I’ve made it my life’s role to look after people. To watch out for them. To keep them safe.”

  Her eyes dart up to mine. The shirt is gone, I’m working on the trousers now.

  “Do you feel safe with me, Haydee?” I ask.

  Immediately, her head nods. And again I am consumed with relief.

  “Now,” I say, my trousers slip over my hips and I push them and my underwear to the floor. My erection springs free and slaps against my stomach. The sound seems very loud in the warm room. “Once I remove this
uniform, I am still the same man. Still a cop. Still dedicated to my role. But there is one difference.”

  Her eyes reluctantly rise up from staring hungrily at my cock. This woman truly does undo me. Her lust could quite possibly match mine.

  “Do you know what that difference is, Haydee?”

  Frown lines mar her once smooth forehead, she tilts her head and blinks back at me.

  I start climbing up the bed, wrapping one hand around her ankle and lowering my lips to her toes and kissing each one. I move to the neglected foot and repeat the process before answering.

  “The difference, Haydee,” I say, between little nips on her calf muscle. “Is I am your cop. I am your protector. I am your safety.”

  I lick behind her knee and watch her writhe. Her hips lifting off the bed in invitation. I take my time. I don’t rush this. I worship her body with tongue flicks and open mouthed kisses. I bite the soft, succulent flesh of her thighs, leaving crescent shaped teeth marks in her skin. I rub my stubble over her lower stomach, bury my nose in her folds and inhale.

  My lips wrap around her clit and suck softly. My hands slip under her arse and lift her up for my taking. I lick her until she’s close enough for me to feel the tiny tremors in her centre. To smell her arousal and taste the sweet honey that’s pooling there.

  I pull back when she’s panting and start to kiss her belly, tugging the bar she has pierced at her belly button between my teeth. Perspiration glistens on her glorious flesh. I rub my cheek against it, then kiss every single rib.

  Did he break them? Did he bruise this wonderful creature’s skin?

  I push the thoughts aside and concentrate on Haydee. This is all for Haydee. My touch turns firmer; she’s ready. My fingers dig into her flesh, pinch her nipples. I suck her entire breast into my mouth, pulling hard, while my palm wraps around her neck and pins her to the bed. The chain presses into my chest, which in turn presses it back into Haydee’s stomach. We’re bound by it through that simple touch.

  She’s whimpering, mentally she’ll be begging. But my sweet girl knows not to talk. I move my lips over my hand at her throat, kissing her through my spread fingers.

  “How hard, Haydee?” I ask. “How hard do you want to come?”

  “Oh,” she moans, a delightful crack in her composure. I chuckle and start sucking on the skin over her pulse. It’s thundering beneath the sensitive skin.

  I settle between her thighs and rock against her clit, not entering, but teasing. She wraps her legs around my arse without permission.

  “Ah, Haydee,” I say, rolling us until she’s on top and I have access to those gorgeous cheeks.

  I run both hands down her back, smooth flesh under hot palms, and then smack both butt cheeks simultaneously. My lips pull back from her throat and I look her in the eyes. “How hard?” I say.

  She nods.

  “You may talk,” I offer.

  “Hard,” she breathes.

  I grip the chain hanging between her breasts and move it over her shoulder, letting it fall down her back, instead of her front.

  “Hands behind your back,” I instruct.

  She obliges so quickly, I can tell it’s what she’s been waiting for. The moment I contain her, take away something, but replace it with something more.

  I sit up, aware she’s watching my abdominal muscles bunching with avid delight, and reach around her back, grasping both wrists in one hand, while the other grips the chain and pulls it tight. It makes her head tip up, face to the ceiling, eyes no longer on her prize. I wrap the chain securely around her wrists and then lie back down again.

  “You know the rules,” I say. “The jewels can hurt if you pull against the chain too hard.”

  Her breasts are pointing up as well, pert little nipples begging for my touch. I reach up and pinch them, not releasing the pressure, but sustaining it. She writhes on top of me, panting, sweat glistened, chest rising and falling as she succumbs.

  Her hands move, but not enough to cause injury, only enough to give her focus when the sensations at her breasts become too much.

  “Rise up on your knees,” I say. She does as commanded. Face still tipped to the ceiling, nipples still held securely between my fingers and thumbs. I rock my hips, making my cock spring up into position. “You feel it there?” I ask.

  She tries to nod, but the chain restricts her movement. I understand her completely though.

  “I want you to ride me, Haydee. I want you to fuck my cock as though it’s your sole purpose in life. Make me feel it. Make me want more. And when I’m satisfied, I’ll release your nipples and send you into free fall.”

  She makes a sound; desperate, eager, frantic. We’re both frantic for each other.

  “Fuck me, Haydee,” I demand.

  She sinks down and it takes every muscle in my face not to cry out in relief.

  And then she fucks me. My goddess rides my cock like it was meant to be inside her. Fucks me with every inch of her being, every part of her soul. I watch her come apart on top of me. I watch her do it all. Completely in control, even though she’s tied up and doing what I have instructed.

  She’s mine to command, but this is all hers. Her moment. Her freedom.

  Her safety.

  I release her nipples when I start to see black dots in my vision with the effort expended not to come. She screams as she orgasms around me. She fills the room up with her ecstasy as I fill her up with my come.

  Jesus. The dots take over and for a minute I can’t see a thing. But feel? Oh God, I feel.

  We are both shuddering as I release her wrists and ease the chain around her neck. She slumps down on top of me, hard breaths, racing hearts, sweaty and sated limbs. I wrap my arms around her and hold her to me.

  I’ve given her what she needs and now it’s my turn.

  “Are you OK?” I ask eventually. Whispered words in her ear.

  She nods her head.

  “Say it,” I press, unsure if I should or not. “Say what you feel,” I add.

  “Free,” she whispers back, snuggling down further into my embrace. “Safe,” she says a few seconds later and then drifts off to sleep.

  I don’t know whether Haydee will ever be able to talk about London. I don’t know if that part of her life has any more claim. But I do know I’ll wait, patiently. I’ll not press. I’ll not ask.

  As long as her answer is always, “Free… and safe.”

  Chapter Seven

  “What happens now, my love?”

  The week blurs by in such a multicoloured hue of colours and sensations and Haydee’s cries of release. She stayed the night on Monday. And again on Wednesday. Then, in a fit of overindulgence, I insisted she stay again last night.

  I can’t tell if her open acceptance of my demands for more of her time is because she’s as eager as me, or if it’s now ingrained in her to do as I say, no questions asked. But we had settled on only three week nights, so tonight, a Friday, I am without my goddess. But I have arranged for her to have dinner with me tomorrow. That’s as long apart as she’ll get.

  It’s crazy. I’m crazy. I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want her. This woman owns a part of me and I couldn’t be happier. Even Jason’s persistent phone calls and David Gordon’s veiled threats can’t touch me. Jason is trying to live vicariously and Gordon is all bluster and wind.

  I’m even smiling. Sitting at my desk, staring out the window at the clouds as they rush by, I have a smile on my face. Christine doesn’t quite know how to take me. I can’t blame her. I chuckle to myself as I pick my phone up and dial Jason’s number, finally returning his latest call.

  “And he lives,” my friend announces down the line. Considering it’s his work line and I’m calling from the station, you’d think he’d take more care. Thankfully, I gave up on Christine putting any of my calls through for me the day after she first arrived and put me through to the commissioner instead of the assistant commissioner and I almost called the old man a dishonourable git.

&n
bsp; “And quite brilliantly, at that,” I say, propping my feet up on the desk in a fashion I’ve never even attempted before today.

  I don’t like it. So I remove them and settle for leaning back in my chair instead, ankle to knee.

  “So, the miraculous Haydee cures all that is ill?” Jason teases.

  “My lips are sealed,” I counter.

  “But, I was right, wasn’t I?” he presses. “She’s perfect for you, you can’t deny it.”

  “I’ll deny nothing and confirm even less.”

  “Come on!” he says, exasperated. “When I set you both up it was with the express understanding that I’d receive all the juicy details.” He pauses, then adds in a rush, “They are juicy, aren’t they?”

  “It’s no use,” I offer. “You’ll get nothing from me.”

  He laughs. It sounds genuinely pleased. “Well, now it’s your turn to return the favour,” he says eventually.

  “Oh, I didn’t realise it would cost me.”

  “Of course it’s bloody well going to cost you. Attendance at the Emergency Services banquet, that’s the price I ask.”

  I groan. “Auckland City Supports the EMS,” I say in way of confirmation.

  “That’ll be the one,” he replies cheerfully. “Oh, and Ethan. It’s black tie.” Then he promptly hangs up.

  Brilliant, is all I manage to think in disgust before my internal phone line rings.

  “Yes, Christine,” I say resignedly. For a week that had been going so well, it sure as hell looks like it’s about to end poorly. I hate fundraisers. I hate Emergency Services fundraisers even more.

  “Um,” she whispers into the phone as though she’s trying to hide her words from someone. “I think your daughter is here to see you.”

  Nothing in this world could have prepared me for that. I struggle to breathe, let alone answer my secretary. I stare at the phone as though it’s an alien being. My heart skips and jumps and I’m sure it’s that which is making me feel so lightheaded.