by A J Sherwood
“Yeah. Fortunately, that cuts through the red tape quite a bit for me. I was able to get a judge to sign off on overturning that, and while it’s still a little in process, I do have the authority to hold Rice if we can slap cuffs on him.”
That sounded good, but… “And prosecuting him?”
“Not at the moment. Can only hold him. But I’ll get that straightened out,” Freeman promised. Pointing a finger inside, he ordered, “Go rest. I want you a hundred percent tomorrow.”
I snapped out a salute. “Yes, sir.”
Shaking his head, he exited the doorway completely, following the other two to the big SUV parked at the curb.
Closing the door behind them, I sent up a prayer that Marc really did find this guy before he hurt someone else.
16
The rest of the day was quiet, with us just watching movies and enjoying some time together. Eventually it got late enough we felt like we should probably go to bed. I was worried Jon wouldn’t be able to sleep, considering all the sleeping he’d been doing, but he still agreed bed was a good idea.
Just wearing sleep pants and a light t-shirt, I crawled into bed next to him and spooned up against his back, settling into the mattress with a sigh. It was a relatively new mattress. Jon had splurged and bought it two months back when he realized a queen bed really didn’t fit someone of my size. It wasn’t that I didn’t mind being in close quarters while sleeping with him, it was just the length. My feet dangled off the edge. This king was even longer than most; he’d found a place that custom-ordered mattresses and bought something with only a headboard frame to put it on. The thoughtfulness had touched me deeply. He really did everything he could to make me feel at home with him.
Although really, the man could live in a shack by the river and I’d still feel at home with him. I wasn’t quite sure if I’d gotten that through his head yet, though.
Jon snuggled in and was still and quiet for several minutes. My eyes drifted shut, and I was on that lovely verge of slipping completely into sleep when I felt him try to sneak out of the bed. Snapping back to awareness, I tightened a hand around his waist. “What?”
“Damn, thought you were asleep.” Sighing, he flopped back against me. “I’m not really tired. Too restless.”
I should have expected that. “Then let’s get up.”
“Donovan,” he groaned, exasperated. “You’re tired. Go to sleep. You don’t have to stay up with me.”
“But I like staying up with you.”
“That’s sweet. But you’ve been up with me for almost three days. Sleep.”
That idea had no appeal. It was very hard for me to fall asleep without him next to me. “Naww. I’d rather not until you’re tired. What do you want to do?”
Craning his head around, he gave me a baleful look. “I don’t know, whatcha want to do?”
“What is this, The Jungle Book?” I asked, snickering.
“I watched that movie way too many times as a kid.” Squirming around to face me, he gave me the smile that meant his mind had gone straight into the gutter. “I do owe you handcuff sex.”
“Oh hell yes,” I breathed, instantly on board with this plan. We’d not had sex in days, and I missed it keenly. Jon was one of the most generous lovers I’d ever had, but more than that, I felt amazingly connected to him while making love. I honestly regretted we had lives outside of the bedroom.
We both kicked the covers off, scrambling out of clothes, shirts and pants and boxers hitting the floor in a haphazard fashion. I turned on the lamp so I could see him better and opened the nightstand drawer with its array of toys, condoms, and lube. Not that we needed the condoms. Our tests had come back as clear this week, freeing us from worrying about them.
I grabbed his hips and pulled him underneath me, making him yelp in surprise, then laugh. He wrapped both arms around my shoulders, pulling me in to him, and I went willingly to kiss him. It was amazing, kissing Jon; he loved every second of it, and I could feel that when we kissed. I dove into the activity with enthusiasm, our tongues dueling with each other, keeping the bulk of my weight on my elbows to prevent crushing him.
Jon shifted his legs so they were a little wider apart, then tilted his hips up, an open invitation for me to take him. My blood started singing in my veins at the idea. Normally, Jon topped because he liked to drive me crazy. But sometimes he was in the mood to be taken instead, which I was always happy to do. I really didn’t care, as long as I had this man.
Lifting off, I broke the kiss long enough to grab the handcuffs, slotting them in between the slats of the headboard before catching his wrists and tugging them up. He willingly went along with this, although he teased, “I wondered if you’d gotten too distracted.”
I gave a look informing him he’d been sadly mistaken. “Forget the opportunity to drive you crazy? As if.” With his hands securely fastened above his head, it stretched out his chest, displaying him for me. I stroked his sides with both hands, admiring the view. “Besides, this way I can fully take my time.”
For the first time, he looked a little worried. “Take your time?”
“You always distract me,” I informed him, leer growing wicked. “But not this time. This time, I can linger as much as I want.”
Gulping, he managed, “I suddenly feel the need for a safeword.”
Grinning, I went for his first sensitive spot, the area right below his ear, nuzzling and sucking on it lightly. He tilted his head to give me access, breath shuddering. Trailing down slowly, I enjoyed every patch of skin, lightly nibbling a few spots to make him squirm. I could feel him react against my stomach, hot and hard, but I paid it no attention. Not yet.
Reaching his nipples, I applied heat and fingers and tongue, harder than I normally did to give him that mild sting of pain. He hissed in response, arching, the handcuff chain rattling as he moved.
“Donovan,” he whined, shifting restlessly.
I hummed in response, moving to his left nipple and continuing my play.
“Shit, you weren’t kidding, you’re really pl—ah!—planning to drive me insane, aren’t you?”
Lifting my head an inch, I met his eyes levelly. “Payback. You drove me insane all this week.”
“I had a really good reason,” he protested.
“You always do. But Jon, my priority is you. It always is, always will be, you. And when you risk your health like that, I’m going to be mad about it. I don’t care what your reasons are.”
He stared at me for a long moment, those clear blue eyes of his weighing and measuring everything he could see in my aura. I let him, needing him to understand me. I understood, intellectually, that I couldn’t protect him from everything. But that didn’t mean I could accept it emotionally. I’d support his decisions—I was not his jailer—but it didn’t mean I had to be happy when I felt something threatened his health.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes clouded now. “I knew you weren’t happy about it—neither was I. I just didn’t properly realize how much it hurt you to watch me down like that.”
Finally, he got it. “So you’re not going to do this again.”
“I’ll do my level best to avoid it,” he promised.
Neither of us could foresee the future. Jon never made me unrealistic promises, so I had to take what I could from him. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but I could accept the honesty of this promise. “Fine. Accepted. But it won’t save you tonight.”
“Shiiit,” he groaned, head flopping back onto the pillow.
I bent back to it, him hissing as I used the rough of my tongue against his over-sensitized skin. He was to the point of begging by the time I moved further south, his cock weeping pre-cum. I had to bite back a chuckle as I bypassed it entirely, targeting the interior of his thighs, as Jon growled in frustration. With both hands under his thighs, I lifted him further up, mouth traveling lower. I had to shift further down on the bed to get the right angle, then I laid the flat of my tongue against his perineum and got a de
ep-chested groan in response.
A fine dew of sweat beaded his skin, his body heating up, a fine tremor in him as his body demanded release. My own wasn’t in much better shape, honestly, and the coolness of the sheets felt good against my throbbing cock. It was hard to tease someone this responsive without getting worked up yourself.
Deciding I’d better enact level two of my master plan, I pulled the lube from the drawer, giving my fingers a good coating. He looked hopeful at this, although also suspicious. He knew me well.
With gentle fingers, I stroked his entrance, nothing hard enough to penetrate him. Swearing, he gripped the handcuffs, eyes screwed tight. “Donovan, either fuck me or suck me off, but do something.”
“I am doing something,” I responded innocently.
For some reason, he glared at me, eyes wild.
Couldn’t imagine why.
I bit back a grin and pulled his right leg over my shoulder so I could lean down on one hip and put my mouth over him. He yelled in relief, thrusting up, and I let him use my mouth as he liked. It would only be a short reprieve, anyway. Mouth stretched to accommodate him, I flicked his head with my tongue in passing, knowing he wouldn’t last long at this rate. My fingers, I kept right where they were, still idly stroking and petting.
With a guttural shout, he released into my mouth, the saltiness hitting the back of my throat in one hard spurt. I swallowed him down, watching as bliss transformed his face, relaxing him. Only then did I drive a finger straight into him.
Back arching, his eyes popped open in surprise. “So you’re going to do both?”
“Oh, I’m going to do more than that,” I promised. He’d accepted one finger easily, so on the next thrust of my hand, I inserted two, feeling his channel tightly grip both digits as I sought his prostate. “I’m going to fuck you hard and make you come again.”
Jon licked his lips, anticipation scrawled all over his face. “Oh yeah? You know I need twenty minutes to recover. Think you can stay patient enough to wait twenty minutes?”
“Wait? I never said I’d wait.” Twisting my fingers, I hit his prostate hard.
Twisting, he gasped, body vibrating under sensitized pleasure.
He wasn’t getting hard, not yet, but it wasn’t difficult to see he enjoyed everything I was doing to him. My own body nearly screamed with the need to be inside of him. I tried to resist, as I didn’t want him so sore he couldn’t sit down tomorrow, but instinct overrode my common sense two minutes later. I grabbed the lube, slathered a generous amount on, giving my dick three good strokes for some relief, then gathered up both of his legs to rest on my shoulders before easing gently into him.
“Yes, yes, yesyesyesyes,” he chanted, legs tightening as he tried to shove himself onto me.
Nope, not going to happen. I kept a firm grip on his hips, controlling my entrance, not just because I didn’t want to hurt him. I was still on stage three of driving Jon crazy.
“You sadist,” he moaned, fighting my hold. “Just wait until the tables are turne—hnnn.”
Balls deep in him, I sassed, “You’ll have to do something very, very special to get me in restraints.”
“Challenge accepted,” Jon rasped back, chest heaving like a blacksmith’s bellows. “Now move, dammit.”
Because I knew it would make him swear at me, I pulled out a bare half inch before pushing back in. I was fairly sure Jon made up swear words on the spot. He was really so, so much fun to tease.
My own patience spiraled quickly out of control, though. I didn’t have much left in me. Instincts clawed at me, demanding movement as well, and I found my hips working—the heat and tightness of him too perfect, beckoning to me like a siren’s song. He chanted encouragement as my pace picked up, my hands around his thighs now to keep them from falling off my shoulders, our skin slick with sweat. The bed groaned as it started to rock, springs squeaking a little in counterpoint to our movements.
Pushing his legs closer to his chest, I changed the angle of my penetration, wanting to nail that sweet spot of his. He keened in wordless pleasure, head thrashing against the pillow, the cords of his muscles standing out in sharp relief in his arms.
God, look at him. He was gorgeous like this, lost in pleasure.
“Donovan.” It was a whisper, a plea, a benediction, a demand. It was all of that. He said my name, but I heard I love you. “Donovan!”
He was hard again, red and practically throbbing, and I knew I couldn’t last much longer either. I pulled his legs down and demanded, “Lock your heels behind my back.”
Jon did so promptly, obeying, eyes open now to watch me. I coordinated just long enough to grab the lube and coat some over my palm, then wrapped my hand around him, jerking him roughly off. A cry strangled in his throat as he came all over his chest and my hand, arching and shaking under the force of his orgasm. Jon clamped down around me instinctively when he came. I slammed into him two more times before my own orgasm ripped through me like a wrecking ball.
I might have blacked out for a second. My vision was a little dark around the corners, and I lay slumped over his chest, breathing hard, his legs flopped down on either side of my hips. Every time I made love to this man, it got better, and that was seriously dangerous. Much as I’d like, I couldn’t spend the rest of our lives in bed with him.
“Donovan?”
Groaning, I levered myself up. “Yeah, gimme a second. The key’s in the drawer, right?”
A pair of baleful blue eyes stared up at me. “You are not funny. Don’t act like you didn’t check where the key was before locking me up.”
I shot him a sheepish smile.
“Holy shit, you really didn’t check?” Head flopping back down, he laughed.
“I blame your sexiness,” I informed him, rummaging around in the drawer.
“And if we have to call someone to cut me out of here, I’ll blame you,” he retorted, sticking his tongue out at me.
“Fortunately, it’s in here.” Retrieving it, I unlocked both cuffs, tossing things back into the drawer before rubbing his wrists, making sure he had circulation. He had such fair skin, it was easy to bruise him.
Jon kept his eyes on me, a languid satisfaction lingering in him. “You know, I’m now unclear if that was reward or punishment.”
Amused, I admitted dryly, “Me too. I know we used the handcuffs on you once before, but…”
“Well, we were handcuffed to each other,” he pointed out. “This was different. This time, you were in complete control and I only had the option of just feeling. Usually, when we’re having sex, I get wrapped up in what you’re feeling. It’s hard to shut my brain off and just enjoy.”
Huh. I hadn’t thought of it in that way. “So you’re saying I can tie you up more often.”
“Sure,” he agreed, waggling his eyebrows in lecherous invitation.
Taking the idea to the next logical level, I added slowly, “Maybe blindfold you as well.”
“Oooh, that might be fun.” He paused, a strange clash of emotions on his face. “I didn’t realize I was this kinky.”
Seriously, why was he this adorable? I leaned in to kiss him sweetly. “Maybe I just bring it out in you.”
“I can blame you for this,” he agreed happily. “I’m okay with this plan.”
I gave him one more quick kiss, but we both needed to clean up, and I was fairly sure I’d worn him out enough that he’d be able to sleep now. I ducked into the bathroom for a wet cloth, cleaning myself up first, then came back to him and wiped him off. Tossing it into the hamper, I sat on the edge of the bed and reached for our discarded clothes. A gentle kiss against my back made me pause. Jon often kissed those scars, and honestly, I felt more than a little conflicted by it. I didn’t understand why. Or rather, I feared it was pity on his part, since he could see how I felt about them.
“Donovan.” He sighed low, arms coming up to pull me in to his chest. “No. That’s not it, honey.”
I relaxed into him, sort of, but a certain amount of te
nsion kept me somewhat apart from him. “Then what is it?”
“It’s a mix of things,” he answered softly against my ear. “Because I love you, I don’t want you to hate any part of yourself. It hurts me to see how you feel about your scars. I truly do not care if you’re not physically perfect. Hell, I’m not perfect. I don’t expect you to be. But I can’t hate them anyway. You got them protecting someone else, which makes me proud of you, and because you were injured, it put you on the right road to meeting me. I only hate that you were once hurt.”
My eyes closed for a moment as I let that soak in. I didn’t regret for a moment protecting that woman and her daughter. But I wasn’t blind, either. The scars were a major deterrent for most people. I’d felt remarkably unattractive after that incident, even after I’d fully healed. But the only thing he cared about was that I hated them?
“Jon. You’ve never once asked me how I got them.”
“I’m rabidly curious,” he admitted, tightening his hold on me. “But old wounds can bleed as brightly as new ones. I wasn’t going to dig. When you want to tell me, you’ll tell me.”
Even now, I didn’t want to tell him. I might never want to tell him. I wasn’t ashamed of it, but damn. It just made me mad to relive it. “A lot of people thought I was on duty when it happened because I was stationed in Pakistan for a while. But I was actually off-duty. I was in London, just enjoying a mini-vacation; I had a twenty-four layover on the way to my new base.”
Jon went very still behind me, listening hard.
Swallowing, I kept going, although my throat constricted as I spoke. I couldn’t meet his eyes, blindly staring at the wall instead. “You develop certain instincts after being on the front lines so long, even more instincts when you’re an MP. I was walking down a crowded sidewalk, just idly window shopping, when I saw this group of three men acting funny. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but I didn’t like how they were acting. I closed in on them, trying to figure it out, and eventually realized they were targeting a lady and her daughter, following them. I got cut off from the men in the streets, but I figured the best way to stop them was to protect the women. I went for the woman and her daughter and…” The memory was a physical pain that flared in my skin, recalling the heat and blistering agony.
