Deception

by Victoria Saccenti

  “Sir. I can’t. I—”

  “I know.” Kissing and licking her, he crawled down her body. “I know.” Anchoring his knees between her spread legs, he slipped on a condom, positioned her hips up to his cock, and dove into her channel one eternal inch at a time. When he finally invaded her and reached the very top, he stopped.

  “Ah!” she screamed, unable to stop the sudden jerks.

  “Go, take me in you. Fuck me.”

  The dam had opened. He’d released her. And she let her body reach for its pleasure any way it wanted. Her hips bucked violently. She rubbed her clit against his flesh, seeking the climax, the pinnacle he’d teased her with and had denied.

  Hunter made it to the edge, but she couldn’t tip over. The summit eluded her. Despite his penetration, something was missing. She’d plateaued, feeling empty, not quite complete.

  “What’s wrong? I can’t,” she mewled. A tear of frustration rolled down her cheek.

  “You need me.” Joe pulled his cock to the rim of her core and slammed back in, thrusting as deep as he could go. Dropping his hands forward, he caged her body between his arms as he stared into her eyes. His chest muscles flexed, his biceps tightened, and sweat glistened on his tanned skin as he retreated and returned. His flat belly, displaying a delicious thin line of golden fuzz, heaved up and down. His penetration was slow, thorough, and fulfilling. His presence carried her, pushed her body and soul forward.

  And the wave came, obliterating any of her mental obstacles in its path.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes.” She dropped her head back.

  “Fucking look at me,” he grated as he pistoned into her, his balls slapping against her butt.

  She locked her eyes to his. He pinched her clit, and a fresh wave of pleasure rolled over her. His mouth stretched open, as he sought air. His climax approached.

  “Sir, please…come with me. Please,” she begged, out of control.

  As he intensified his movements, a third orgasm burst through her. Trembling nonstop, she hooked her ankles around his narrow waist. He met her in her explosive frenzy. He crashed with her, body to body, again and again, until the last ounce of strength was spent.

  Joe flopped on her chest. Lifting her tied wrists over her head, Hunter placed her hands gently on his quivering shoulders. He was still descending from their joint release.

  A minute passed. Her heart stopped galloping. His breathing eased. Smiling, he raised his head. As he rolled on his side, he fumbled with the condom and stood.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He padded to his bathroom. The sound of running water came after he disappeared inside. When he returned, he held a moist hand towel. He settled next to her, lifted her knees apart, and began wiping her sex and her inner thighs. The gesture was intimate; the sensation was cool, pleasant, and relaxing. She’d not expected this tender pampering or after-sex care. He made one last swipe and flung the towel inside the bathroom, then dropped next to her and removed the ties on her wrists.

  “How do you feel? Do you need the toilet?” He slipped one arm under her body and brought the other over her shoulders. She ended up tucked within his chest.

  “Mmmm, no. I don’t want to move at all.” Her lips brushed his damp chest. Unable to resist the temptation, she pressed her nose between his strong pecs and licked his skin, delighting in his salty taste.

  She closed her eyes as Joe smoothed back her hair, kissed her forehead, the top of her head…

  Joe climbed out of bed. He’d dozed for a few minutes after his mind-bending orgasm, and that had been the end of his rest. His brain had stirred him awake with a ton of thoughts and a massive load of guilt.

  Hunter slept peacefully. The sleep of the innocent, as opposed to yours, his conscience jeered.

  Her eyes shifted under her lids. She was deep in the throes of REM sleep. Vivid dreams jostled her around. She held on to the pillow for dear life. In the next breath, she shoved it out of her way and flipped onto her belly, exhaling soft raspy breaths.

  He rubbed his face and scratched his beard, admiring the wondrous Hunter Giordano he’d discovered tonight.

  Using light movements to avoid waking her, he leaned an elbow on his headboard. His stomach roiled. Plus he needed the support to process his thoughts.

  Weeks ago, he’d noticed her hidden submissiveness. That had been the ideal opening for his scheme, the way in to her. But he knew she was ignorant and inexperienced. She’d never heard about the lifestyle. When he’d called her a submissive, she’d snapped back in adorable indignation.

  However, he was in a rush to accomplish his mission, so he’d pushed and manipulated her as he lied and lied some more. He’d spewed the bullshit with such conviction and intensity that at one point, he’d believed it too. Trust and truth, the two most important concepts in the lifestyle, the keys to successful relationships, had been his preferred weapons. Master Kurt would beat the crap out of him.

  Unaware of his deceit, she’d responded to him. Had come willingly—no pun intended, his conscience jeered again.

  The arrogant, angry Hunter he’d met at Pete’s bar had melted in his bed, and out of that small pool, a new woman arose. She’d been sweet, gentle, and obedient, almost childlike in her eagerness to please him.

  His confusion and unease didn’t end there. She’d affected him. Strange emotions had surged when he’d entered her perfect sheath. Hunter’s soft core had surrounded him with warmth, comfort, pleasure… He wanted to stay there forever. In climax, he’d given control back, had joined her in a breathless orgasm instead of his usual separate and distant release.

  Unexpected outcome.

  He stepped back, then paced silently around the bed, studying her sleeping form.

  Is anger your defense?

  That was the emotion he had to explore. How many years had she lived in anger? Where had it come from?

  Who hurt you? How?

  Doubt niggled at him. Guilt wormed deeper. What if a critical piece was missing, an important fact, or an unknown event? Mitigating circumstances…

  Joe shoved that aside, forcing Billy’s image to the forefront—his reason and justification. He couldn’t get distracted. Billy’s death demanded retribution. Payback, damn it, his stubborn brain insisted.

  Nevertheless, a huge question mark floated in the Hunter Giordano story. He could taste it, feel it in his bones. Research was required if he wanted to sleep at night. And he was nothing if not thorough. Kelly and Soledad came to mind. With a little persuasion, both women might shed some light and help unravel the mystery.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE AROMA OF cooking bacon mixed with fresh-brewed coffee teased Hunter’s nostrils. Slowly, she stirred awake. The dream she’d lived in slipped to the recesses of her brain, soon to be forgotten and never to resurface again. She cracked her eyes open. Perplexed, she scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. Disorientation didn’t last long. Unapologetic sunshine streamed through naked windows, illuminating Joe’s tall dresser and huge bed. On cue, the entire tumultuous night came back.

  Slapping her palms over her face, she snorted through her fingers. Being alone was helpful, as she needed to sort through her thoughts and images and gather her wits. Right away. A shower was part of that recovery. She had a small problem, however. Her bag was nowhere in the room. She’d probably left it in the kitchen, sometime after dinner.

  Crap.

  Well, in less than optimal situations, one had to improvise. The top sheet would work as a makeshift toga until she found her belongings. Tiptoeing to the bathroom to make the least possible noise, she dragged the length behind her. She reached the doorway and laughed at her silly precautions. She’d have to make one hell of a racket for Joe to hear her in the kitchen, ’cause that’s where he was, her nose assured her.

  She turned on the light. Neatly folded on top of a supply cabinet she found her clothes and a fresh set of towels. When it came to paying attention to detail, the man didn’t falter.

  Hunter turne
d on the shower handle. As she waited for the temperature to rise, she twirled her hair into a loose bun. Steam billowed almost immediately; she stepped under the torrent and sighed with delight. She’d read about these amazing rain-like showerheads and had promised herself she’d buy one for her new apartment with Kevin.

  The citrus soap in the stall reminded her of Joe’s scent. She smiled, thinking how his fragrance would linger on her skin. Now, as the day progressed, his aroma would bring up all the wild emotions and sensations of the past night.

  “I’m going to shave that sweet cunt. I like it bare.”

  Oh, his words resonated. She blushed when the scene formed in her mind: razor in hand, he denuded her mons and folds with careful strokes while she watched spellbound. Shivers of delight ran down her spine. Joe was a master of seduction. Everything he said and did titillated and aroused her. Except this was not a good time to get distracted or indulge in such activities, her realistic side intervened. She had to get dressed and go to work.

  Still… Maybe she could surprise him.

  Widening her legs, she examined said area, then gave that idea a thumbs-down. This was a mighty sensitive and delicate region, which required patience and accuracy. Hurrying made one careless. She could end up slicing a chunk off and bleeding to death.

  “Save it for the next date,” she muttered to herself.

  That is…if a next date was in the offing.

  The towel he’d left for her was huge and fluffy. She dried off in no time, brushed her teeth, and dressed. She pulled at her bun. Her hair tumbled past her shoulders to the middle of her back, and she gave it a quick brush with her fingers. Ready to begin the day and face Joe, she returned the sheet to the bed, hung the damp towel on an empty bar, and scanned the bathroom one last time. Pleased with her neatness, she walked out to find the man who’d given her the most unbelievable night of her life.

  Joe stood at the sink with his back to the doorway, washing an item she couldn’t see. He wore black chinos and an olive T-shirt—Semper Fi was emblazoned across the back—and, quirkily enough, no shoes.

  “Good morning, gorgeous.” He spoke without turning around.

  The bit of trepidation she’d experienced as she approached him disappeared. She felt comfortable and at ease. She belonged here, with him.

  “How did you…” She walked swiftly to his side.

  “I was trained to hear what others don’t.” He dried his hands, then turned to her and winked. “Sleep well?” He touched her cheek.

  “Like a rock. Didn’t hear you get up.”

  He went to the stove, opened the oven door, and checked the pan inside. “It’s called exhaustion and satisfaction. You zoned out still talking.” He closed the door and walked to the coffeemaker on the counter.

  “No way.”

  “Yes way,” he said with a laugh, waving an empty mug. “Coffee?”

  “Please.” Hunter perched her derriere on a stool as he filled her mug.

  “How about fixings? I’m prepared for everything.”

  “Cream and sweetener.”

  “Got you covered.” He pointed at a clear acrylic box holding blue, pink, and yellow packets. He placed the steaming mug in front of her along with a container of half-and-half and a teaspoon.

  “How do you like your eggs? You must be famished.” He returned to his position next to the stove, picked up his mug, and sipped.

  “Don’t fuss, please. I can grab a donut on the way to Soledad’s.”

  “Hunter.”

  “Scrambled, Sir.” She snapped to last night’s protocol without thinking.

  “That’s my girl.” Smiling, he opened the carton of eggs and took out five. “I’m getting a little rusty with my manners.” He was all business and efficiency as he cracked the eggs into a bowl. “I should have picked you up yesterday.” Adding a touch of milk, he whisked the mixture. “Now you have to drive to work.”

  “That’s okay. It’s a short distance from here, and besides, I need to go home after Costa del Sol and change for Pete’s bar.”

  Joe didn’t respond. His attention was focused on the stove.

  Hunter fidgeted. The air thickened in the kitchen. Feeling awkward, she reached for the first topic that popped into her mind.

  “When did you join the service?”

  “I left for Parris Island in 2005. Do you like your eggs cheesy, runny, firm?”

  Without fail, he switched topics. She smiled. “Firm is good.”

  “Coming right up.” He moved quickly. He dropped placemats, plates, napkins, and flatware in front of her. Hurrying back to the stove, he poured the cooked eggs on a platter, took the large pan out of the oven, and carried both to the counter. “Eat. Eggs will get cold.”

  “Wow! You’re good,” she exclaimed, full of admiration. Saving space he’d served the bacon and toast in the same pan. The butter dish appeared out of nowhere.

  He picked up a rasher of bacon and sat next to her.

  “Would you like jam?” he asked as he chewed.

  Filling her plate, she laughed quietly. “I’m good.”

  “Tell me.” He picked up another rasher. “What brought you to St. Cloud?”

  Hunter tensed as she sifted through the list of standard excuses she gave everyone. She glanced at Joe’s piercing eye and decided to go for a half-truth.

  “I was tired of the rat race and wanted out. Mamá’s third cousin lives in Kissimmee. He and his wife invited me down, to try it out.” She shrugged. “I liked it, and here I am.”

  “That’s what I call an oversimplification. Plus, there’s a huge gap in that story.”

  His tone was so gentle, her hackles rose.

  “No bigger than in yours.” She nearly cringed at her snappy tone. Yet something in her refused to back down.

  Joe studied her. He nodded as a half smile lifted a corner of his mouth.

  “Fair point. I give some. You give some. What do you wish to know?”

  Don’t go there, her mind cautioned. Leave the missing eye alone.

  “Why did you enlist? When did you discover you were a dominant?”

  “If I answer”—he tapped the tip of her nose—“you owe me two.”

  “Deal.”

  “The attack in New York, the loss of so many innocents, motivated me to enlist.” Pursing his lips, he gazed around as if following an indistinct moving object. “I’m pretty sure I was born a dominant. My proclivity developed over time. In fact, I don’t recall a specific ah-ha moment.” He sipped his coffee. “Now you. Why did you leave your son in Brooklyn? What happened to his father?”

  “My relationship with Kevin’s father didn’t work out. We broke up before I realized I was pregnant. To answer your next question, he left New York without leaving a forwarding address.” She took a bite of her eggs and chewed thoroughly. So far, so good. Joe seemed to believe her.

  “During my pregnancy, I took Spanish translation courses. The courts need good translators, and the position pays well. I left Kevin with Mamá while I explored the situation in Orlando.” She smiled. “That’s my story. Plain and boring.”

  “Okay. That was a good effort. We’ll leave it there for now.”

  “Yes. Time is ticking away.” She pouted, glancing at her wristwatch. “I need to head out.”

  Joe slipped off the stool, picked up their empty plates, and slipped both in the sink.

  “There’s something we have to discuss.” Crossing his arms, he leaned against the counter. “I get checked for STDs regularly. I can provide a report. Last night, I used a condom because I’m not sure how careful you’ve been. Going forward, I don’t want anything between us, not even a slip of rubber. So…”

  Hunter nodded. “You want me to get checked.”

  “Correct. What about birth control?”

  She swallowed. Discussing this topic without emotion, coldly and clinically, felt weird. “Just so you know, I don’t hop from bed to bed as some people gossip about.” She frowned. “I’m on the pill. To contro
l my hormones.”

  Pushing from the counter, he advanced, his regard enveloping the whole of her, from her shoes to her face. He stopped an inch away, grasped her chin, and kissed her lips. “I don’t listen to gossip. Ever. If we’re going to continue, this is an important conversation. We clear all doubts and concerns and start from scratch, free to enjoy all the pleasures I have in mind for you. When can you get checked?”

  “Hmmm… In a hurry much?” She snickered.

  “You’ve no idea. You tease me again, young lady, and this time, I’ll give you that spanking you’re so hoping for. Got it?”

  “Yes, Sir. And…uh, I’ll call my doctor today.”

  “Perfect.” He released her chin, then tucked a stray lock behind her ear. “What’s your work schedule like?”

  On impulse, she touched his fingers without asking permission. She thought he would disapprove, but he surprised her when he smiled.

  “We’re not on D/s mode all the time, Hunter. Not unless we decide we want a twenty-four seven relationship. I enjoy your touch.”

  “Sorry, this is confusing.”

  He cupped her cheek. “I can see steam rising out of your ears—figuratively, of course. Relax. You’re thinking too much.” He rubbed the crease of her lips with his thumb. “And don’t anticipate. I’m in control. I will show you and surprise you. That’s my job and part of the fun. You were going to tell me about work.”

  “I work at Costa del Sol Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday. And nights from Tuesday through Saturday.”

  “Tough schedule.” He frowned. “I’m not sure I like it.”

  “Extra money, to move.”

  “For Kevin.”

  He’d guessed her plans. “Yes.”

  “Makes sense. Let’s have lunch on Wednesday. And count on spending Sunday and Monday at my place in Orlando. I have things to show you.”