“He was,” she whispered.
Most pedophiles weren’t attracted to adult women. Braced on his elbow, DeVries stroked her arm. Her skin was chilled. “There a reason why he married you?”
She nodded. “My ranch. He never wanted me.” Her sigh was bitter. “He acted very loving, but…I got so I knew he didn’t like the way I looked. Not sexually. I had breasts. And hips. And—”
“And now you don’t think they’re appealing.” She made sense. Lindsey had a woman’s body. He ran his thumb over her lower lip, felt the quiver. “You know, a man—unless he’s gay or a pervert—likes breasts and hips.”
“I know.” She averted her face. Denying him control.
“Your head tells you that. Your subconscious won’t believe it. Not easily.” He put his hand over her breast and felt her flinch. Talking about the bastard had revived old memories. “We’ve got some more work to do.”
“We?” She pushed at his shoulders with her small hands. Totally useless action, considering he probably outweighed her by about seventy-five pounds. “There is no we.”
“Right,” he said agreeably, using one knee to part her legs. “So I’ll show you how I feel about breasts and hips and afterward let you leave.”
“You—you weasel.”
He kissed her neck. Her cheek. Her mouth.
She pressed her lips together, denying him a kiss.
Damn, he enjoyed her. His mouth feathered over hers as he fondled the breast in his hand. Mmmhmm, the combination of soft and firm could drive a man crazy. He pinched her nipple hard enough she gasped.
He took her mouth and surged in, plundering in the same way he planned to take her cunt.
Fuck, he loved the little purr he coaxed out of her. How she went boneless under him. Even when she was pissed off, her body responded. Wanted him. Made him feel like a god.
He gentled his touch, thumbed her nipple to a point as he considered. He’d fucked a hell of a lot of women—enough to know the difference between faking and real excitement. Lindsey hadn’t had a wealth of lovers in her past, and when she was married to the asshole, her subconscious would have felt every slight and let them damage her sense of self-worth.
It’d be a pleasure showing her the effect she had on a real man. And was a relief to know the play they’d done yesterday had actually been on target. Even if it had ended badly.
He lifted his head. As she sputtered, he smiled down at her.
He considered flipping her so he could fondle all the parts he liked, but…face-to-face was better right now. “Since you have an appointment…” Deliberately, he fit his cock against her entrance and pressed. Slick and hot. “We’ll have to be quick.”
With one hard thrust, he buried himself to the hilt.
Her whole body arched. Her cunt pulsed around him.
Her gaze had gone slightly unfocused, and he waited until he was sure she could hear him. “Damn, I love the way you feel. Under me. Around me.”
He could almost see her subconscious take his words in.
Yeah, there was going to be a lot of fucking in his future.
* * * *
Lindsey entered the battered women’s shelter with two minutes to spare and headed toward the meeting room.
Her insides were still quivering. DeVries might be pushy about getting what he wanted, but he always made her come at least once—usually more—before he finished. Damn it. How could she yell at him properly when she was all flushed from coming?
He’d driven her back to her car, politely held the door, and kissed her so sweetly, so possessively, she could only stare at him when he closed the door. His smack on the roof of the car had made her jump. And he’d laughed when she’d glared at him.
God, his teasing sent tingles up her spine, and she was totally thrilled she could lighten his spirits. Especially after finding out how ugly his childhood had been. She held a hand to her chest, aching for what he’d endured. While she’d been playing with her sisters on the ranch, he’d been living with a hooker.
DeVries hadn’t totally spilled his guts, though. More haunted him. But…she’d get it out of him and help him deal. She could. She wanted to share everything with him. Her feet stopped abruptly as she realized her total idiocy.
She couldn’t. Absolutely couldn’t.
And he was so damn persuasive, she almost had. At least she’d kept from blurting out the entire story of Victor’s death and how she’d been stupid enough to go to the ranch to confront him.
Her stomach tightened. Victor had not only been raping the young Mexicans being smuggled across the border but was running a smuggling operation. Humans and drugs came from Mexico; weapons and ammunition went back.
She’d been unbelievably gullible. He hadn’t loved her. Ever. He’d wanted her ranch because it sat right on the US-Mexico border.
Enough of that.
She pushed open the door to the room. “Hey.”
At the table, Edna watched Lindsey with hope in her eyes and an uncertain set to her mouth. “I got the form filled out.”
“Perfect. As it happens, I have some ideas on jobs. We can fill out applications if you find any you like.” When Edna gave her a tentative smile, Lindsey felt more than rewarded for the extra time she’d taken.
“I appreciate you coming in on a Sunday,” Edna said.
“Not to worry.” Lindsey opened the folder up. “Your counseling and doctor appointments are more important. And my boss will let me take time back.” Xavier had made it clear he appreciated flexibility and would give extra comp-time in return.
Within only a couple of hours, Lindsey was pleased with their decisions and even happier with the look on Edna’s face. Hope. Fragile but present.
“We did good work today,” she said to the older woman. “That was the last of the applications.” And she was starving. The scent of bacon had drifted into the room, reminding her she hadn’t had breakfast. Her stomach rumbled in complaint.
“Why don’t you stay for brunch?” Edna said. “The cooks always make too much food.”
“I-I…” Why not? The more she learned about how shelters operated, the better job she could do for the women. “I’d love to stay.”
The residents were sitting down at the long tables in the dining room.
Edna said, “Everyone, I’ve invited Lindsey to eat with us. Would you believe, she has a for-sure job for me as well as a couple more I might like. And she’ll get me into a trade school when I’m ready.”
As the chorus of congratulations made Edna beam, pleasure washed over Lindsey. This was why she’d gone into social work.
Jeremiah’s mother waved her hand. “Can you sit by me? I have some questions.”
“Of course.” Lindsey joined the table, dispensing information about jobs, education, and finding daycare.
Almost silently, Jeremiah, Jenna, and another child ate their food. Lindsey and her sisters had never behaved so nicely when there were guests. In fact, they’d chattered away, delighted to have a new audience. Each visitor had been like a gift.
For these children here, she wasn’t a treat but a possible threat. Only a man would be considered more menacing. Poor deVries. He really hadn’t liked terrifying the kids.
And now that she’d thought of him… She smiled at the boy he’d befriended. “Jeremiah, did Mr. deVries return to work on the door?”
He nodded vigorously. “I helped him. With everything.” The boy’s eyes were shining. “He gave me ten dollars because he says a man gets paid for his work.”
“You must have done a very good job,” Lindsey said. Did deVries have any idea of the effect he’d had on this child? Sure, he did. His Dom talents didn’t shut down when he left the club.
“He worked hard,” Jenna piped up. “The man said Jeremiah was an sellend helper.”
“Ex-cell-ent,” her mother prompted.
“E-sellend.” Jenna chewed on the end of her braid before offering, “Jeremiah spilled the things on the floor. The man laughed.�
�
DeVries had laughed at the kid? What kind of a—
“He didn’t hit me or yell,” Jeremiah whispered. “He made a…a little huffy sound. An’ said it was nothin’. He helped fix cars when he was eight, and he dumped a whole bucket of oil all over. Cuz he tripped.”
“Damn,” she said under her breath. A perfect response.
One woman, sitting beside Lindsey, sighed sadly. “So many of us forget what a normal man is like.” She patted her chest. “Even me. I actually had a good childhood. That’s the kind of joke my father would have made.”
Lindsey smiled. “Mine too.”
“If Papa had still been alive, he’d have killed my husband,” Jeremiah’s mother said softly enough the children wouldn’t hear.
Lindsey’s smile faded. Yes, her father would have torn Victor apart.
DeVries was also the type of man who would defend a woman. Regrettably he couldn’t protect her from the police. Getting him involved might get him killed.
Looking down, she pretended to concentrate on her food, seeing instead the officer who had responded to her 9-1-1 call that horrendous night. Craig had been a classmate of Melissa’s. He’d been stunned at the sight of Victor’s body. Even so, after viewing the boxes of weapons and the drugs and speaking with the boy, he’d been firmly on her side. After calling in the report, he’d let her go to shower off the blood.
And Parnell had killed him. His own officer…merely for knowing what had really happened.
No, she couldn’t risk deVries. Mustn’t.
Chapter Eleven
Friday evening was chill with a mist bordering on rain as deVries knocked on the door of Lindsey’s house. Country-western music was playing softly enough he could hear the soft thud of her feet on the wooden floor. Over the past few days, he’d noticed she was often barefoot. One more habit showing who she was. He liked a woman who went for comfort at home.
When she opened the door, he had to grin. Yep, he was dead-on. Barefoot. Jeans and a loose T-shirt. A clamp held her brown hair on top of her head, showing the purple strands. Her face brightened for a second before she scowled. “What are you doing here?”
“We went out last night. Tonight we’ll stay in.” He motioned to the grocery sack at his feet. “Can you cook chicken? Southern fried chicken?”
“DeVries, have you been taking your meds?”
Fuck, he liked her sassy mouth. He bent down and sampled, feeling the way her lips softened. Her scent drifted upward, the fragrance like a flower garden in the spring. Bet she just got out of a bath. He deepened the kiss.
She took a step forward, her hands on his shoulders. Oh, she was into him whether she thought it was smart or not. Lifting his head, he whispered against her lips, “Answer my question, baby.”
“Um…” She backed away and shook her head like a boxer after catching a hard punch.
“Can you cook chicken?” he repeated, curving a hand around her bared nape. Tiny soft tendrils tickled his fingers.
“Of course. But what are—”
“Good.” He picked up the grocery sack and his toy bag and walked through the door. “I brought food. And a movie.”
“Excuse me.” Her voice rose. “Stop!”
Almost to the kitchen, he turned. God, she was cute.
Hands on hips, she glared at him. “Polite people call first. They don’t ask themselves right over.” The Texas twang had definitely increased.
“Don’t like talking on phones. You gotta eat supper; we can eat together.” He strained to keep his face straight when the ire in her eyes burned. Be fun if she attacked him.
“You-you…” She caught up to him in the kitchen and grabbed his arm. “I’m not your damned cook!”
“Sure you are. I’ll help.” Chuckling, he set her on the counter beside his toy bag.
Her unexpected kick to his gut knocked him sideways a step. Her eyes rounded. “I’m sorry—I—”
“Not a bad defense, but you should have followed up.” Pinning her lower legs with his body, he toppled her over onto her back on the counter. “Now you’re going to pay.”
“Damn you, don’t you dare!” She struggled, but the gleam in her eyes, the way her nipples strained inside the T-shirt—fuck, she wasn’t wearing a bra—he knew her objections weren’t serious. Still, in case…
“Safeword still works.” He met her wide-eyed gaze and smiled slowly. “Nothing else you say will.” And he yanked her jeans down.
Lightly tanned legs. And one red lacy excuse for underwear, which barely covered her pussy. He removed her right pants leg, leaving her left leg encased. After shoving the loose end into a drawer, he leaned on it, trapping her leg with the caught fabric.
They’d played lightly a few times over the past week. She knew him fairly well. Time to push her a bit. And…well, how convenient…there was a knife rack.
When he drew the wood-handled butcher knife out, she froze, staring at it, a rabbit cornered by a wolf.
He took an alcohol swab from his bag. As the sharp scent filled the air, he cleaned the blade and leisurely dragged the edge like a shaver down her stomach.
Her breathing stopped.
He slid it under the left side of the underwear, feeling the fibers part. Pretty damn sharp. “Guess I owe you new undies.”
Her eyes couldn’t get much bigger. Fuck, he loved this.
He did the other band of the thong and bared her pussy. “You’re not going to kick me again, right?” he asked softly.
Her voice came out in a whisper. “N-no. DeVries—”
“I like being called Sir. Master works once in a while.”
“Sir. You wouldn’t really—”
“Shut up, babe.” He touched the point of the knife to her nipple. Just so she could feel the point—not nearly enough to draw blood.
Her pounding pulse jiggled her little breasts, and she was hardly breathing. Nice. Just right.
He laid the hilt on her stomach and positioned the hefty bare blade between her breasts. “You planning to move?”
Her no was so low he barely heard it.
“Didn’t think so. Gonna have some fun now… Warning, babe, you wiggle and I’ll amuse myself with the blade instead.” He kept his weight on the drawer, ensuring the jeans would keep her left leg anchored. With a firm grip, he pushed her right knee outward, opening her pussy. The folds glistened, assuring him she liked edge play as much as he did.
And he did; he was hard as a rock.
After giving her a warning look, he bent and licked from above her asshole to her clit. Under his palm, her leg muscles jumped. Be fun to see how long she could hold still. In fact…
Since his hip and left hand were keeping her open, he happened to have a free hand. With his right thumb and forefinger, he captured her nipple. Nothing felt as smooth as a nipple. Nothing tasted like a woman’s cunt. He wiggled his tongue over her clit and pinched her nipple at the same time.
The sound she made, fear and passion. Yeah, he’d enjoy this. Working his way down, he pushed his tongue into her entrance, felt the first wiggle. Lifted his head. “Did you move?”
Her hands clenched again. “No. Please, no.”
He released the jutting peak, smoothed over it, took the time to pinch the other, and felt her legs jerk. She was already nicely close to coming.
Spotting a dish towel, he arranged it over her eyes to block out her vision. Firmly, he took her hands and put them under her lower back in a token restraint. “Now, that’s just pretty. All laid out for me.”
She made a noise of frustration but was smart enough not to speak.
After unzipping his toy bag, he found a soft anal dildo, lubed it, and fitted it against the tight rim of muscle. “Let it in, babe,” he cautioned. As it slid in, he saw the tremor run through her. Perfect. The pressure would keep her right on the edge while he played…with edges.
After quickly cleaning the blades of his two favorite knives, he lifted the butcher knife from her chest. With her eyes covered, she w
ouldn’t know what he used—and he preferred his own where he knew their sharpness—they didn’t have any burrs to catch flesh—and how hard he could press.
If she figured he was using the butcher knife, well, wouldn’t that just break his heart?
“You played with knives before, pet?” He leaned forward, pinning her legs down again.
“N-no.”
“This time, I’m not going to cut you, babe. Might welt you up a bit; not more. We clear on that?”
Her head moved up and down an infinitesimal amount, as if she were afraid to move.
Why did playing with knives and little females make him want to laugh? “Good. Safeword is red. You get too scared, and you let me know.” This time around, he wouldn’t push her further.
He dragged the knife over the flatter parts of her body—her tender stomach, tops of her thighs. Normally he’d start on her back, but he liked this position for her. Trapped by her own tight jeans.
“Let’s see how pretty a line I can make,” he whispered. Using his forearm to pin down her torso, he picked up his smaller knife. Tilting the blade so the flat side was toward her, his finger near the tip, he lightly drew the point across her stomach.
A fine line appeared. Good, her skin was his favorite kind. Not so thin as to tear; delicate enough to mark easily. She’d have a pretty red line there in a few hours. “Oh yeah, that’s nice, Tex.”
She swallowed. “DeVries, I—”
“Uh-uh.” He took the butcher knife up and laid it between her breasts, so she could feel the weight of it. Recognize it. When he saw the tiny quiver of her muscles, he picked the knife up and rested the back of the blade against the side of her neck.
Her muscles all went tight. With no experience, she’d only note the coldness of the edge, not that it wasn’t the sharp side.
“What’d I ask you to call me, Lindsey?”
“Sir.” The cords in her throat stood out with her tension. “I’m sorry. Sir. Master.”
“Very good.”
HE WOULDN’T HURT her, she told herself that. Again. And Again. Every cell in her body seemed located in her neck where the cold steel lay over her carotid artery. Her breathing was so shallow, she could feel the tiny lift of her ribs with each fast breath.
Edge of the Enforcer Page 13
