Beautiful.
Stunning.
Free.
I fuck her with long strokes and everything I have for a few more seconds. I claim her, own her, consume her every thought and sensation, then empty myself deep inside. I’m shuddering as I slip out of her centre and lower her to her feet. She’s shaking as I release the chain and check her neck and wrists. A tear slowly rolls down her cheek. I kiss it.
“Are you all right, little pet?” I whisper against her lips.
She nods.
“I think I’m in love with you,” I say and kiss her because I might have just said too much.
I have to pull back several blissful moments later, as it’s getting hard to breathe for both of us. I rest my forehead against hers and catch my breath.
“Did you like your stars, Haydee?”
“I loved them,” she whispers back.
“Stay here and recover, and then slip down the wall behind the curtains and come out by the coat stand. I’m taking you home to fuck again.”
She smiles. It’s blinding. My heart damn near bursts out of my chest.
“Good girl,” I say, and straighten my clothing and then turn away. My mind is on what part of her body I’ll be fucking when I get her home to Redoubt Road, as I slip through the curtains and come face to face with my worst nightmare.
It takes everything in me not to look over my shoulder to check that Haydee is safe.
Chapter Eleven
“I am now.”
“Well, this is cosy. A Redoubt Road reunion,” Nathaniel Marcroft says as my eyes scan those surrounding him.
Dear fucking God, really?
Lara and her HEAT Investigator boyfriend stand there. She looks pale. He looks amused. Kyan, Nathaniel’s son, is trying valiantly to get his father to behave. And Nathaniel? Nathaniel is the cat that just got the cream.
I’m so fucking furious I have to work not to clench my fists and punch a hole in the wall behind me. How could I have been such a fool as to walk into this?
Haydee. Thank the stars that Haydee is behind that curtain and about to make her escape. I have to delay matters. Entertain this vile creature while my goddess makes it to safety. I do not want Nathaniel Marcroft anywhere near my woman.
“Dad,” Kyan urges, moving closer and laying a hand on his father’s arm. “I think it’s time we should go.”
“Nonsense,” Nathaniel counters. “We’ve only just all arrived.”
Oh, yes. He’s in his element. Can Lara see it? Is she already aware of what this man is capable of?
I watch it all play out with a sense of desperation that thunders through my pulse. Desperate for Haydee to be safe from the likes of this man. Desperate for my daughter to survive this case and catch Marcroft before he can do what he did to Samantha to someone else.
I’m sure it’s him now. I just hope Lara is as sure, as well.
“We have a late afternoon meeting, Dad,” Kyan is saying. “I’m sorry,” he adds, looking at everyone at once. “But we’re expected and must leave.”
“Not a problem,” Lara says, cheerfully. The act is brilliant and I realise I’m getting my wish: Watching Lara at work. “The day is still young, after all.”
“Indeed,” Marcroft says, drawn into Lara’s expert trap. She knows. My daughter knows, even if she hasn’t quite worked it all out yet. She knows what type of man Marcroft actually is. “You never know what the night will bring,” he says lasciviously.
She smiles at him with a blank look that has never been one of Lara’s. She really is quite brilliant at this.
“You two make a fine couple,” Marcroft offers, ignoring the continued efforts of his son to get him to move. His eyes rake over Lara and Michaels as he adds, “We should have an official reunion, Ethan.” Oh, so I’m to be used in this confrontation as well? “Lara-Marie brings her Damon,” Marcroft says and then turns piercing eyes towards me. “And you bring your latest pet.”
Everything narrows down to just him and me and I let him see the challenge I issue. One more word, and I’ll cut him in two. I am so sure of my ability to end this man’s life as he knows it. I’m so sure, that I let everyone present see it.
Lara glances at me and I force myself to meet her eyes, dreading what I’ll see there. But she’s in her role as detective, playing it to perfection, a million miles out of Nathaniel Marcroft’s stratosphere.
She gives me a nervous look. Lara is never nervous. And then says, “I’m sure Mr Marcroft doesn’t mean that.”
Brilliant.
“Of course he doesn’t,” Marcroft’s son immediately offers, grasping his father’s wrist and starting to haul him away. “Too many glasses of champagne,” he adds, as his grip tightens.
“We’re all family here,” Nathaniel declares merrily. The man is completely insane.
“Come on, Dad,” Kyan says encouragingly, and finally his father agrees to be ushered away.
The son looks up and meets Lara’s eyes. There’s a challenge there my daughter meets beautifully. “It doesn’t help,” he says, “that we spend our nights surrounded by every manner of vices.” I remain very still and wait for the axe to drop. “Sometimes I think my father wishes the rest of the world were as open as those who frequent Sweet Hell.”
Yes, it’s as bad as I’d feared it would be.
“Open about their sexuality, Kyan?” Lara asks without batting an eyelash. I stare at her, a part of me wanting her non-reaction to be true.
Another part aware that my predilections are an entirely different thing than a semi-stranger’s.
“Any vice, Lara,” Marcroft junior offers. “We’re a gambling establishment which caters to the many sins known to man.”
“Those would be what exactly?” Lara presses, immediately. Going in for the kill, but even I am surprised by her next words. “Lust? Gluttony? Greed?”
Oh, she is very good. Lust, greed and gluttony, three of Dante’s nine circles of Hell. Lara’s cracked the Irreverent Inferno. I’m so fucking proud even as I’m appalled she is now much too aware of my lifestyle.
“Come now,” he says jovially. “Surely you’re not entirely unfamiliar with any of those. You do see some interesting things in your line of work, I should think.”
“Yes,” Lara agrees, keeping eye contact. “It makes it easier to see the truth amongst the treachery.”
Brilliant.
“Well,” he replies softly. “A worthy trait for a police detective to have.”
He nods his head towards me. I don’t return the favour. Then does the same to Michaels. But Kyan Marcroft can’t look Lara in the eye. He’s involved, I realise, as I watch him walk away toward his waiting father. He’s as much involved as his old man.
Interesting.
“Are you aware of any illness, mental or otherwise, that Nathaniel Marcroft might have?” Lara says into the stunned silence, her eyes on both Marcrofts, but the question undoubtedly for me.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Lara-Marie,” I say softly
“One you think I’m not adept at,” she counters, feathers ruffled already. I want to sigh.
Instead I murmur, “On the contrary.” She is brilliant my daughter. “I think you play it better than me.”
I nod towards Michaels and then walk away. Lara will have this crime solved before breakfast, I have every faith in our daughter.
Anna, I think as I move towards where Haydee is waiting. She did all right without us, my love. So much like her mother.
Anna doesn’t answer, but then I don’t wait to hear her imagined voice. My eyes have found Haydee. Hers have found me. I walk up to her, seeing my future, seeing it flowing out in front of me and shining under the stars. I wrap a hand around the nape of her neck and pull her in for a soul searing kiss.
“I’m in love with you,” I say against her cheek. I bury my face into the crook of her neck. I can smell her scent here. I can feel the chain press against my chin.
“Me too,” she whispers, lifting a hand up to
stroke my hair.
I pull back and look down at her.
“Excuse me? What was that, little one?”
She smiles up at me, mischief and something heated flaring in her dark eyes.
“I’m in love with you too, master.”
“Oh,” I say, chuckling. “I’m going to have you repeating that when my cock is deep, deep inside.”
She sighs, lowers her face so she is grinning at the floor and waits patiently. Gracefully. Serenely.
This woman would let me lead her anywhere.
For now, I am leading her home.
She’s silent in the car on the drive from the city centre south. But I couldn’t be happier. I’m unsure where things will go with Lara, but I have faith that Haydee can help me open up to my daughter just like she’s helped me open up to her. There’s something about this creature beside me, something compelling and intriguing and addictive. But also so very calm. She soothes me. She evens me out. Balances the rough with the smooth.
She’s the half of me that has been missing. Perfectly matched. Beautifully crafted. Made just for my pleasure.
I let a small laugh out as I pull into my drive. I know her eyes are on me. What does she see?
I turn and offer a wink, then slide out of the car and swiftly walk around to her side, opening her door and helping her alight from the vehicle. She knows to wait for me. She knows this is something I like to do. For her.
I slip our hands together, fingers laced and lead her up to the back door.
“Have you got your key?” I ask before we reach it.
She nods her head.
“Then unlock the door.”
She fishes it out of her evening bag and with steady hands slips the key in the lock. She’s only used it when I’ve already been home and waiting. But this feels significant. Important. A stepping stone I didn’t even know I needed to take.
“Open the door, pet,” I say and watch her smile.
Haydee’s heart might be my woman, but her body is all my pet.
“The code is 58214, “ I say and watch as she enters it into the alarm system. “Lock the door behind us,” I instruct and walk through the utility room into the kitchen.
I glance around as I hear the click of the lock on the door. I haven’t had Haydee in our kitchen before. Or the den. Or the library. Or any of the guest bedrooms. I guess we’ll be christening the entire house before long, but this evening I want to feast on my woman.
I turn back and slap my hand down on the large wooden bench in the centre of the kitchen. It’s an old country kitchen, with rough hewn tiles on the floor, shaker style cabinets, and a pot rack hanging directly above.
“Up you get, sweet one,” I say, indicating the bench. “Stand up and strip for me.”
She drops her handbag and slips out of her shoes. I allow it. Climbing up onto kitchen benches in high heels could be dangerous. Then, as if she’s a gymnast, she vaults up onto the bench and lands on her rear. The move is playful, not sensual. And that’s what I love about this girl. She has fun. She takes while I take. And it just makes me want to give her more.
She’s up on her knees, and then is standing, before I’ve taken a seat at one of the bar stools that rim the serving bench off to one side. I pour myself a Scotch and lean back, elbows to the bench as Haydee begins to slip out of her dress before my eyes.
The window over the sink is bare; I don’t bother with curtains in here, but if a neighbour should look over the fence they could get an eyeful.
“Are you worried about the window?” I ask between sips of my drink.
She shakes her head. It is darker in here than outside still, but I get up from my chair and switch on the light, bathing her near naked body in a warm yellow glow.
“And now?” Another head shake. She trusts me.
My neighbours work late on the weekends, I know no one is home.
I smile at her and settle back in my seat as she pulls off first one stocking and then the other.
“Leave the garters,” I say. “And raise your arms above your head, wrapping your hands around the rack.”
Her chain glints in the lights. Her body glistens.
“I’m going to tell you my fantasy,” I say, and she beams down at me. “It involves the body of a goddess and the soul of a saint. And a heart so big and beautiful it brings tears to your eyes. But that’s not the best part,” I add, placing my drink down on the counter and pushing up from my seat.
I walk towards her, our eyes locked on each other.
“My fantasy is stealing her away from the world. Keeping her for my very own.”
I start undoing my bow tie, slipping out of my jacket.
“Of worshipping her body and cradling her heart. Of soothing her soul.”
My shirt comes undone and then my trousers.
“She sings to me in her silence. She screams for me when she comes.”
My shoes and socks are gone and I’m naked, worshipping before my goddess.
“She lets me take and take some more,” I say, as I climb up on the bench with her. “She fills me up when I empty myself deep inside. She’s mine,” I whisper. “In every way.”
I lean forward. I don’t touch her chain or her body, just move my lips until they are just above hers.
“As I have been hers from the very first day.”
And then I’m kissing her. My arms wrapped around her body, one hand up and securely holding the back of her neck, the other cupping her butt cheek. Our tongues dance as she sways on the pot rack, not releasing her grip until I say. My cocks rubs up against her body, pressing back into mine when she tries to get closer. Hungry little noises spill from her mouth as I lick and bite and suck on her lips, my tongue flicking out and diving in deep, tangling us together.
I know the feelings now. I’m familiar with them. As though they are part of me somehow. I want inside her. I want under her skin like she is under mine. I want to live within her, bathe in her beauty, float free on her sighs.
I want it all.
“Tell me,” I breathe into her neck, my hands roaming down her body until I pick her up and wrap her legs around my waist, like they had been back at the banquet. I know she’s remembering. Her head tips back looking for the stars and only sees brass pots and clattering utensils.
“Tell me,” I repeat as I sink myself deep inside. Bliss. I start rocking, my eyes on her face, her breasts bouncing between our bodies, her gasps filling up the heated air and competing with the cooking equipment.
“Tell me,” I urged, as my fingers dig into flesh and my cock impales her on long, hard thrusts.
She bites her lip and then smiles at me.
Little minx.
I increase my pace, revel in her moans of ecstasy. She’s close. She thinks she’s in control. She draws me in, holds me prisoner, all with a soft pant, a pliant roll of her hips, a tight, wet welcoming.
I am home.
“Still won’t tell me, little pet?” I ask between small grunts of exertion. I give her everything.
She shakes her head and then lets out a squeak, followed by a moan, when I circle my hips, surprising her with the change of angle, and then stealing her breath away with a purposeful thrust deep inside. I endeavour to reach the very heart of her with each long, hard pound of my cock inside.
“Oh,” she manages and receives another limb quaking, body possessing thrust.
“Tell me,” I demand, fucking her harder, letting our skin slap together in a rhythm as old as time, counterpoint to the rattle and sway of the pots and pans above our heads.
I time the rhythm. Thrust of my cock, gasp of air as she takes me, circle of my hips. Rinse and repeat. She’s lost. She’s free. She’s taking me with her. She’s coated in sweat now, and I watch as she moans and writhes on top of me. She’s about to come, and I want her to say the fucking words.
“Tell me,” I say, going perfectly still. She wriggles. I tilt my head to the side and raise my brow. I’m sweating, shaking, black spots dance
before my eyes with the strain to hold back.
I see the moment she realises she won’t get what she wants until I do.
Her eyes meet mine, her smile is my undoing.
Or so I thought, until she says the words.
“I’m in love with you, Ethan.”
Oh, fuck.
I grab her hands from the rack, wrap them around my shoulders, feel her nails dig into flesh and then take her. My kiss is hard. My cock is pounding into her harder. And my careful hand around her throat promises protection and my kind of freedom.
She comes, her mouth open, her eyes glazed, her scream silent. I release my hold of her neck and watch as oxygen rushes back in through gasping lips, watch as the imprint of my fingers turn from blue, to white, to red as blood flows back through her system.
Fuck! I stare at the sensational sight as I come; my release goes on forever. I give her all of me, even as I take and take and take.
“Haydee,” I say, clinging to her. Or she is to me? “Fuck, Haydee,” I add, and somehow manage to get us both down off our stage.
I sink to the tiled floor with her wrapped around me, sitting chest to chest, knees on either side of my hips. I’m still buried inside her. I may never leave.
“Wow,” she says, and the word is raspy.
I chuckle and pull back, then check her neck again, feeling myself harden.
She raises an eyebrow at me but doesn’t say anything.
“Are you all right?” I ask. She offers me her signature serene smile and nods her head.
“I’m not finished with you,” I warn, making my cock jerk inside her to prove my point.
“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she teases softly.
“Must I gag you, Haydee?” I ask, with mock grimness.
“Please, master,” she purrs in my lap.
“Naughty pet,” I scold playfully and then move up to my knees, and push up from the floor.
I’m not letting her go.
I take her up to my bathroom, turning on the shower and waiting for it to heat up. I realise she’s looking up at me. I glance down.
“Beautiful,” she whispers and I don’t know what to say. I’ve never had a woman say that to me before.
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