Playing with Fire

by Abby Gordon

  I am Allura. I’m not from here.

  Chance narrowed his eyes as he studied the form. “You’re how they got together, aren’t you? Somehow, whatever you did.”

  I am. And I’m here to help both of you.

  “What?” Bessie breathed. “If this is some sort of joke…”

  Oh, it’s no joke. And you lied to Chance.

  “Oh?” Chance turned his head to look down at her. “What did she lie about?”

  She wants to be spanked, and she’s been pushing you to give them to her.

  “No,” Bessie denied, trying to back away from Chance.

  His fingers tightened on her upper arm as he looked toward the door.

  “Are you sure?”

  Check her. She’s quite wet from wanting it.

  “No, please…”

  The lights flashed. Check her, Chance. Now.

  Bessie choked back the sob of humiliation as Chance dragged her back to the desk, pushed her face down over it, and pulled up the hem of her skirt. She clenched her thighs together and turned her head as she saw the light to her left.

  Chance’s body pressed over her, then one of his knees wedged between her legs, giving his hand enough room to cup her pussy over her panties. Remembering Terence’s weight on her, she shuddered and started to panic.

  “Please,” she begged. “Get off me.”

  “Oh, baby,” he murmured in her ear. “You’re soaked, little one.”

  “No,” she whispered, as his fingers caught the edge of the elastic. “Don’t.”

  Her eyes closed as his fingers parted her folds, which were dripping. As he probed, she shuddered, then caught her breath when one then two dipped inside her pussy. While insistent, his touch was still gentler than the rough groping from three weeks ago, but she still didn’t want him to touch her. Or did she?

  Chance’s fingers swirled, teasing, and she suddenly wished that he had been the one to suggest they get another bottle from the wine cellar. The image flashed in her mind and she whimpered. She was losing her mind. She had to be.

  “Tell me the truth, Bessie,” his deep voice rumbled through her.

  Her muscles clenched around the fingers barely inside her.

  “No,” she whispered, fear still winning out over lust.

  “I can feel what you would deny. I can take care of you,” he promised. “I can if you let me.”

  “You? You don’t do anything without Tre knowing and approving.”

  “Is that what you think?” His teeth caught her earlobe and tugged. “Who do you think introduced him to the club that taught him to control his sexual need to dominate woman?”

  His fingers pushed farther into her.

  “What? Dominate? Sex? You?” She panted.

  The nights in her bed just holding a little battery-operated toy and reading a book that would have sent her mother into fainting fits came to her mind. But the memory of Terence pushing her back into the corner was stronger. The lights flashed blindingly, and as she squeezed her eyes shut, the feeling of Chance bending her over in the wine cellar came to her, and suddenly what was happening felt like an erotic memory.

  “Me. I can take care of you, Bessie.” His lips brushed her ear. His voice was low and deep. “Admit it. Admit you want to be spanked when you’ve been a bad girl. When you’ve thrown papers all over your office. Or your shoes at the door. You want to be punished…”

  The lights flashed and it was Terence’s face before her.

  “No,” she sobbed, terror racing through her as she struggled. Her arm swung around and her fist connected with the side of his head. “Let me go.”

  “Calm down,” he snapped, pulling away from her quickly. “Damn, woman, what…”

  Bessie caught a glimpse of his face. He looked stunned, confused.

  Ask her what happened at the party when no one would protect her.

  Bessie’s entire body froze, then a shudder rippled through her. She pushed herself off the desk and wrapped her arms around her waist. Hunching over, she glanced at the light.

  “How do you know?”

  Ask her, Chance.

  “What do you mean?” Chance’s voice cut in. “What do you mean no one would protect her?” He whirled to face Bessie. “What happened?”

  “Terence,” she whispered, then squeezed her eyes closed as the memory flooded back through her. She stepped back until she hit the wall. “He… In the wine cellar… He…”

  “Fucking sonuvabitch,” Chance growled. His hands were back on her, gentle this time on her shoulders. “Jesus, Bessie. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry. I should have done something. And I sure as hell shouldn’t have done what I just did.”

  That was me. Both of you needed a trigger.

  “A trigger for what?” Chance demanded.

  You have a sexual connection. You want to dominate her, control and give her pleasure. Bessie wants that. She needs that from you. If she’s honest with herself and you.

  “Bessie?” His thumb brushed her cheek. “Do you?”

  Numb, she nodded, then felt what she thought was his mouth on her forehead.

  Would you like to have another chance? To do what you really wanted at that party?

  “You can do that?” His head turned to look at the light form.

  Of course.

  “No. Don’t,” Bessie whimpered. Fear raced through as she shook her head. “I can’t. Once was enough.”

  This will be different. I promise. Chance will protect you. Won’t you, Chance?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely,” he vowed. “I promise, Bessie. I come into that party again, and he won’t touch you. And if he ever lays another hand on you, I’ll beat him to a bloody pulp.”

  This protectiveness in human males is most curious. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  “Do it,” Chance told her firmly in a tone that had Bessie’s head whipping up and her eyes opening to see a determined expression on his face. “If you can, put us back to that night.”

  Gladly. Do what you wanted to do. Show her. Let it out.

  “Let it out?” Bessie wondered. “What do you…”

  Chapter Three

  Bessie gasped as the office whirled around her, changed, then stopped. Trying to catch her breath, she glanced around and shivered. She was back three weeks. It was the night of the party. Everyone was still, everything was silent—as if frozen in time.

  She glanced down and saw she was wearing the same black sequined dress and heels she’d worn. Her hair piled up on her head with curls escaping to tickle her neck. She’d been talking to three men when Chance had arrived with Tre and Alice. Terence’s hands trying to hold her waist.

  And everything went into motion. Chance walked in amid a flare of pale yellow light.

  Even though the DA was in the middle of a story, Bessie turned her head and stared at Chance. When his gaze landed on her, she saw the fire in his eyes. Flustered, she turned back to the other man and tried to focus on what he was saying. It was hard. Feminine radar told her he was coming closer, working his way through the room.

  Terence’s hand went to her waist and she jumped away, stumbling on her heels, which gave him the excuse to catch her hands and pull her closer. The other two men chuckled. Desperate to get away, she fought the temptation to turn to look for Chance. And wished she had. His hand touched her shoulder, making her jump, even as it slid behind her back to enclose her within his arm.

  “Gentlemen,” he greeted the two she had been talking with. “Chance Brickerton, business partner of Tremayne Sheridan’s. I need to speak to Miss Andersson about our real estate contracts.”

  “Of course, of course,” the DA agreed, reluctantly releasing the handshake.

  “Oh, not now,” Terence protested with a smarmy smile and the air of one who wasn’t accustomed to refusal. “You can’t take her away…”

  Bessie tried to step away from him as his hand slid down her arm. Chance peeled his fingers off her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

>   “I must insist,” he replied firmly, turning her and putting his body between her and the mayor.

  “That was rude,” she told him, despite the relief she felt.

  “You didn’t really want to listen to that windbag exaggerate about his courtroom triumph, did you?” he murmured, his breath warm in her ear. “Or did you really enjoy that asshole publicly groping you like that?”

  “My cousin Darcy is a lawyer,” Bessie replied as he guided her around the room. “Being polite to him helps her. But no, I did not like Terence’s hands all over me.”

  “Well, now you can help another cousin,” he told her, halting a roving server and taking a glass of champagne for her, then getting one for himself. “Alice told me that you coordinated the remodeling for this house.”

  “I did,” she confirmed, sipping at her glass, which didn’t have nearly the effect on her jangled nerves that the heat of his body did. All she could remember was how Terence had been pawing at her throughout the renovations. “Are you thinking about moving here as well?”

  “If Tre is here, I’ll be spending most of my time here,” he replied, pulling her toward him as they reached the bottleneck at the door. “There are a few details I’ll either want in a house or will need added.”

  “Such as?” she wondered as they got through the crowd and walked down the short hall to the kitchen.

  “A workable kitchen,” he gestured with his champagne glass. “And a wine cellar. I’ve built an extensive collection. Alice said the mayor had one added.” He glanced around and nodded at a closed door. “Is that it?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “No. It’s downstairs,” she told him, motioning to her left. She paused, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu, but without the fear she should have had. Should have had? Why would…

  “Bessie.”

  She heard Terence’s voice behind them and shivered. No. She wasn’t going to answer Terence. He’d hurt her…hadn’t he? Chance glared over his shoulder before looking at her, his hand steady and warm at the small of her back.

  “I’d like to see it, if you’ll show me.”

  “Of course,” she agreed, going to the door.

  His hand lingered on her hip as she opened it and flipped the switch to turn on the lights. She felt the lack of heat as she started down the steps. She heard the door close behind them but he was asking questions before she could ask him to open it again.

  “Just a wine cellar down here?” he wondered. “Or is there anything else? Exercise room? Guest rooms?”

  “There’s a media room with theater seating for twelve,” she said, focusing on her realtor mind. “Exercise room with sauna and steam room.”

  “The mayor likes his comforts,” Chance murmured as they reached the bottom of the stairs. He looked around. “Very nice. And the wine cellar?”

  “This way,” Bessie replied, moving around the high counter of the blonde-oak bar to the door behind it.

  He was right behind her, reaching around her to open the door for her. She smiled up at him. The lust in his eyes startled her and she looked away nervously. She had to be mistaken. A man who looked like Chance, who lived in Hollywood surrounded by gorgeous women all the time was not going to look at her like that. She stepped into the wine cellar.

  “It’s environmentally controlled, of course,” she continued the tour, gesturing to the half-filled racks of bottles. “Organized according to country of origin then region and year.”

  As she reached the middle of the room, his hands caught her shoulders and pulled her back against his chest. She gasped even as he took the glass from her and set it on the nearby table.

  “What…” She swallowed. “What are…”

  “Bessie,” he whispered. “We’ve been flirting for weeks. Had meals that would qualify as double-dates with Tre and Alice. God knows, you’ve been teasing me to the point that cold showers are all I’m taking now. I was going to wait until we had business all taken care of before making it personal, but this is too opportune a moment.” He paused, staring down at her. “Or do you object to sex with me?”

  She gazed up, knowing he was right. They’d been dancing around each other since…since that Saturday morning outside the café. She’d been meeting with her female cousins. He’d been pulling out of the drive-thru, a hungover Tre in the passenger seat. Their eyes had locked and… Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and she smiled.

  His arms wrapped around her waist and cupped her breasts over the silky material of her dress. His head dipped down and nuzzled her neck. One hand moved and her breath caught as it slid under the material. And under the low edge of her dress. She gasped as his palm covered the mound, fingers stretching to heft the slight weight.

  “Your nipples are already hard,” he murmured. “Are they aching to be played with?” His fingers kneaded the soft skin, then pinched and tugged slightly.

  A low moan escaped her lips. She didn’t realize he was moving her until she found herself facing the table. As his right hand played with her left breast, his left hand moved over her belly and found the hem of her dress.

  “No,” she protested softly. No, that’s what she would have said to Terence. Wasn’t it? Something wasn’t right. Or rather, something wasn’t the wrong it should have been. Something wasn’t…

  “No?” he questioned, lips on her ear. “You want me to stop touching you?”

  “No,” she repeated. “Men like you don’t touch women like me.”

  He chuckled lightly, the vibrations sending shivers racing through her body and making her pussy tighten.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “All those gorgeous, sexy women in LA,” she managed as his teeth nipped her shoulder. “I’m not…”

  “Not stick-thin, worried about how you look every second of every God damned day,” he finished in a harsh tone. “I want a woman in my bed, not a popsicle stick.” He raised the hem of her dress and caressed her inner thighs, moving up the stocking until he reached the edge. “Bare skin?” He growled in her ear. “You’re wearing thigh highs. God, there’s nothing sexier than a woman wearing…” His wandering hand found the garter and he groaned. “Woman, please tell me you didn’t come here to hook-up with that asshole upstairs. I’m not sure I could handle another man touching you.”

  His words spun through her mind. Asshole. Terence.

  “Hook-up?” she whispered. Did he think she wanted Terence to touch her like this? “No, I just like garters and stockings. I’m always getting runs in my hose so… Chance!”

  His hand covered her pussy, only a slip of lace between his palm and her wet folds.

  “Good. Then I don’t have to make enemies before I’ve even moved here,” he muttered, his right hand leaving her breast to cup the side of her face and turn her head. “From the second I saw you three weeks ago, I thought this woman would be perfect. She’s soft, round, and eager to please and trying so hard to take care of everyone around her.” His fingers massaged the back of her neck. “But who is taking care of you, sweet Bess? Who touches this soft skin and makes you hot with need?”

  Stunned, she could only stare up at him. He smiled and lowered his head. His lips brushed over hers, teasing once, twice, before coming down and claiming her hard and swift as his tongue swept into her mouth and took over.

  She moaned and felt as if she was melting into him. As heat filled her body, she felt his fingers rubbing her folds, then catch the lace of her panties. The heat of his palm moved lower over her skin and, even as she gasped, two fingers plunged into her pussy. She tried to turn, but his hands held her firmly against his body. His thumb found her clit and began pressing it, making tight hard circles.

  Fire raced in her blood and her hips undulated. He broke the kiss, freeing her mouth, only to make a trail down her throat. Her head fell back against his shoulder as he supported her body. Need rose in her, making her helpless in his embrace as his hand returned to her breast. Now his body weight pressed her down onto the counter a
nd she felt his erection pressing against her ass.

  “So hot,” his voice rasped. “So hot and wet. Can you come for me, sweet Bess?”

  A whimper was all she could reply as his fingers stroked in and out of her pussy and his thumb kept up its pressure. His strong fingers pinched and tugged on first one nipple and then the other. His hips moved against her ass and she felt his hard cock, eager to play as well.

  “Fire,” she panted. “I’m on fire.”

  “Let it burn, sweetheart. Let it…”

  His fingers hooked inside her, meeting the pressure of his thumb, as he pinched hard on a nipple. With a cry, she arched away from him, muscles straining as electricity spun through and an orgasm swept through her core. Panting, she collapsed against him. His palm on her cheek turned her head.

  “That’s my girl,” he crooned approvingly, pressing kisses against her sweaty face. “Is there some heat left for me?”

  Bessie managed to open her eyes enough to see his face as his mouth came down on hers again. Vaguely, she felt his fingers leaving her pussy and her hips twitched, wanting them back. He turned her around and she stared up at him.

  “Is this real?” she wondered, certain that something was definitely off. Her mind was spinning too much to figure it out. “It can’t be.”

  His hands cupped her face.

  “This is real, baby,” he whispered. “I want you. I want my cock in your hot, tight pussy.”

  She trembled.

  “Why?”

  “Did someone hurt you?” he murmured, his hands wrapping around her, holding her close. “Or…are you a virgin, Bessie?”

  “No,” she mumbled, shaking her head against his broad chest. “But just once in college and…it hurt and…I didn’t feel anything like what you just made me feel.”

  His fingers brushed her cheek. “You liked that?”

  She nodded as heat flushed across her face. There was a flash of light as a gleam appeared in Chance’s eyes.

  “Do you want more? Do you want my cock in that hot sweet pussy?”

  Biting her lower lip, she nodded, even as her pussy tightened as if getting ready for him.