Cuffed: A Forbidden Romance

by Joanna Blake

  I had a feeling little Miss Jones was absofuckinglutely delicious.

  I wouldn’t even fuck her for a good long while. I’d take my time, feasting on every inch of her.

  Fuck. I hadn’t been this hard since- well, ever.

  I rolled onto my stomach and moaned as my cock rubbed against the mattress. Maybe I should just take care of this myself-

  But it felt wrong. She was right there. I wanted the real thing, not just a mindless release.

  An empty release, without the object of my twisted affections being involved.

  I was inches away from walking down the stairs, pulling off my clothes and doing something unthinkable.

  The girl is chained up, DeWitt. Don’t be a creep. This is starting to feel like Silence of The fucking Lambs.

  My phone pinged and I stared at the screen. My hand was already wrapped around my shaft. I released my grip and picked up the phone instead.

  Saved by the bell. Literally.

  I stared at the phone and sat up.

  Fuck me.

  They’d found another body. At The Jar. And this time, Mason was a suspect.

  Cassandra

  I woke up to the smell of pancakes. I blinked and sat up, rubbing my eyes. Connor was in the kitchen, cooking something.

  Pancakes most likely. Real smart, Cass. Putting two and two together like that.

  I eyeballed Connor warily. He looked sharp, like he was going somewhere. He was fully dressed in a similar outfit to the night he’d come into The Jar. Suit jacket and jeans. He was even wearing his gun.

  And an apron.

  The combination of the gray flannel suit jacket and the plaid apron was almost too much. I would have laughed but the way I felt when I looked at him made me nervous.

  Not because he was scary.

  Because I liked looking at him so much.

  Too much.

  Not to mention the clanking sound when my feet hit the floor made him give me a look that made my insides turn to jelly.

  Oh right, he’d chained me up. Great.

  He might be hot, but he was also possibly psychotic. And I had zero options at this point. I could try and be nice. Or I could try and get away again.

  With a hacksaw maybe.

  “Here. Eat.”

  He put a cup of coffee in front of me, along with a plate of pancakes. He’d already put a neat little pat of butter on top. And syrup.

  Not too much, either. It was pretty much a perfect plate. I stared at it, my mouth watering.

  “I have to go out.”

  I realized I was starving as I reached for the food and immediately started cutting it into neat squares. I stopped long enough to ask him a question before popping a big, juicy bite of pancake into my mouth.

  Damn, the guy could cook.

  “Great. When does this come off?”

  I wagged my foot at him and he stared at it, clearing his throat. I noticed his eyes lingered on my bare foot and lowered it with a clank.

  “It doesn’t.”

  “You’re leaving me here chained up? What if the building catches fire?”

  “It won’t.”

  “But-“

  “Eat. Rest. Read a book. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  He nodded and I saw he had brought my stuff down. He’d even set out a couple of books on the coffee table and a neatly stacked change of clothes rested at the foot of the couch.

  My eyes got wide when I saw the fresh white cotton bra and panties on top. Hello. He’d touched my panties.

  His gaze followed mine and we both stared at those small white panties with the pink bow. I saw his lips open slightly. He licked his lips too. Like he was hungry.

  Well, he should have some pancakes if he was hungry! Not go through my fucking bags! I sighed and held up the chain.

  “How can I change with this on?”

  His jaw ticked. He sighed and glanced at his watch.

  “Fine. You can change real quick. No time for a shower.”

  He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked my ankle cuff. I shivered from the warm, rough feeling of his hands on my skin. The man’s callouses had callouses.

  It didn’t hurt or scratch my skin though. It kinda tickled.

  He sat back and raised his eyebrows.

  “Well, go ahead.”

  I grabbed the clothes and ran for the bathroom. I half expected him to stop me. To tell me to change in front of him. To make sure I wasn’t hiding a weapon.

  Or a bobby pin… Too bad I didn’t wear my hair in an updo or something. Not that I was good at picking locks. But I did know how.

  Note to self: next time you plan to get kidnapped, put your hair in French twist.

  My hands fumbled with my clothes, grabbing a washcloth to clean my face with cold water. I rubbed the damp cloth under my arms and between my legs before throwing the clothes on.

  I had this crazy feeling he was going to break the door down at any second.

  When I came back out, he was on the couch, thumbing through one of my books. It was a racy romance novel that I’d read half a dozen times. I flushed and grabbed for it.

  His fingers brushed mine and I gasped as our eyes met. He was smiling at me knowingly. Like he knew all my secrets.

  I yanked the book out of his hand and glared at him. He held up the cuff and I rolled my eyes. But I lifted my foot all the same. He never broke eye contact as he reached out and grabbed it.

  He rested my foot on his knee and gently pushed my jeans up. Then he blew on the skin and I shivered. He mumbled ‘better if the skin is dry’ as he fit the shackle into place and locked it.

  There. I was trapped. Again. And I’d willing participated in it this time. Semi-willingly anyway.

  Why did I feel so safe then?

  I sat down on the couch, realizing I was going to be stuck here alone and bored. He cleared his throat and set down a cellphone.

  “I will text or call. You will answer.”

  He smiled.

  “It does not call out. It does not text out. It only receives. So don’t even think about it.”

  I leaned back with a huff, refusing to look at him.

  “Just in case you get hungry I made you a sandwich. Two actually. There is juice and soda in the fridge.”

  My mouth dropped, staring at him as he stood to adjust his weapon and make sure he had his badge.

  “Exactly how long are you going to be gone?”

  “It could be a while.” He grinned and gestured to the book. “You have plenty of stuff to distract you while you eagerly wait for me to get back.”

  “Eagerly?”

  I chucked the book at him and he caught it.

  “Maybe I’ll take it with me.” He gave me a long assessing look. “I could use the tips.”

  My mouth dropped open. He could use… wait, what?

  He slid the book into his jacket pocket. He never stopped looking at me as he licked his lips. I blinked as he shook his head and pursed his lips.

  “Stay out of trouble.”

  And then he was gone.

  Connor

  Those panties. Dear God in Heaven. Those sweet, sexy little white panties.

  I’d taken my time going through her things, letting her sleep. It was still early but I was expected at the agency. I needed to hustle.

  But I had taken my time with those panties. I’d folded all her clothes neatly. Even the underthings.

  Especially her underthings.

  Those I had folded twice.

  I’d laid them flat on the bed, running my hands over them. Imagining her soft little pussy underneath. I was hard and aching as I laid them gently on top of the stack of clean clothes.

  I had resisted the urge to sniff them. Barely.

  Try not to be a total fucking creep, DeWitt.

  I patted the book in my pocket. My witness had a dirty mind it seemed. Or she was curious about sex, at the very least.

  I’d be more than happy to instruct her…

  I groane
d and adjusted my package. Great. Another day with an unrelenting hard on.

  Just what the doctor ordered. Not. If the doctor had any feelings, he would prescribe twenty-four hours in bed with my little runaway.

  Longer. A week. A month. But twenty-four hours was a good start.

  At this point, I would take what I could get. Literally. Panties. Books. Anything.

  I pulled into The Jar and closed my eyes. I knew Mason was inside, probably frothing at the mouth. Worse than that, Casey was going to freak when she found out what had happened.

  Another Hell Raiser body. But this time, her guardian was a suspect. Lighting never strikes twice in my experience. And when it does, its a sign of something bad.

  I walked inside and saw him immediately. He was cuffed and sitting at one of the tables, fuming while the place was scoured top to bottom by forensics.

  Yellow tape was everywhere. Fingerprinting was useless but they were taking some samples. The place was pretty much overrun with federal agents.

  The Jar would definitely not be opening anytime soon.

  Mason glared at me as I walked over to him. I smiled, pulling out the chair across the table. I didn’t beat around the bush. If he knew something, or if he knew how to get to her, then I was going to use that as leverage.

  Use them against each other.

  “Someone’s setting you up, aren’t they?”

  He grit his teeth and bared them at me. It was easy to forget with his good looks and whiskey warm voice, but Mason was an Untouchable. He used to ride with the wildest of them.

  “It’s because of her, isn’t it?”

  “What the fuck have you done with her, DeWitt? If you touch her-“

  I smiled at him and popped a stick of gum into my mouth. Let him think I’d touched her. I sure as hell wanted to.

  “She’s safe. You on the other hand…”

  He spat on the ground. I couldn’t say I blamed him for being pissed. All the signs pointed to another Untouchable, or Hell Raiser, being behind the crimes.

  But circumstantially… it was not looking good for old Mase.

  I paused, realizing I’d picked up Casey’s nickname for the biker. Who wasn’t all that much older than me.

  Jesus, maybe I was a dirty old man. I’d thought about pocketing those panties after all… she had a couple of pairs.

  I decided I would be happy to buy her some more. Lots of pairs of fresh little underwear. Enough that she wouldn’t notice if one went missing.

  “We need to talk.” I leaned back and shook my head. “She saw something.”

  “She tell you that?”

  “What do you think?”

  He smirked for a minute, then the smile fell.

  “Fuck.”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah, fuck.”

  We sat there in silence for a few minutes.

  “I’m trying to keep her safe. To do that, I need to keep you safe.”

  I tilted my head.

  “Oh and the pets. Cheeto and- well whatever other ones.”

  He laughed and shook his head.

  “She’ll never squeal. It’s the only reason she’s alive.”

  “I know she won’t.” I smiled. “But you will.”

  “What the fuck are you up to, DeWitt?”

  “Please, call me Connor. We’re about to get real friendly.”

  He groaned and leaned back in his chair.

  “You’re going to get us all killed man.”

  “I’m trying not to. No one knows where she is. If you talk for her, maybe we can leave her out of it altogether.”

  He stared at me.

  “You touch her, Connor? I know you want to.”

  I raised a brow and nodded once. What was the point in lying about that? I wanted to touch her. Jesus Christ, did I ever.

  “If you hurt her, I will fucking cut your nuts off.”

  I made a tsking sound.

  “Threatening a federal officer is never a good idea.” I popped another stick of gum in my mouth. “Anyway, there are so many reasons to ‘touch’ a person in custody. Searching them. Restraining them. Holding them down.”

  I was pretty sure I saw actual steam come out of Mason’s ears. So what if what I was proposing was stretching the rules? It would keep Casey out of it and get the bad guys. That was good enough to me.

  “If you fuck her- if you hurt her-“

  “Hey now!” I smiled at him as he struggled to get out of his chair. “I never kiss and tell.”

  Then I walked away to let him stew.

  Cassandra

  I stared at the ceiling, clicking through channels without even looking. It had been a few hours since Connor left me here, chained up like a dog. I’d already eaten all my pancakes and a sandwich.

  Jesus, I was bored.

  I couldn’t stop worrying about Mase either. If he got killed because of me… I’d never forgive myself. If I talked they would kill him. But they might do it anyway, just to be on the safe side.

  Connor kept telling me he would keep us both safe, but how could he be sure?

  I sat up abruptly. Maybe he’d missed something. Maybe I could still get away… get to Mase.

  Do something.

  I started my search in the kitchen. As predicted, he’d taken everything sharp or pokey. Even the forks. Plenty of spoons though, in case I needed a weapon.

  I pocketed one. A girl could do a lot of damage with a spoon.

  I kept searching.

  Jesus, the guy had a lot of weird stuff. Mallets for tenderizing. Old, milky white glass casserole pans. Jelly molds.

  I looked around, realizing a lot of this stuff probably wasn’t his. It was retro stuff, like you saw Betty Draper using on Mad Men. Maybe it had all been here when he moved in.

  Either that, or he’d had a wife at some point. I shook my head. Connor didn’t read that way to me.

  There was something too… lone wolf about him.

  I riffled around in the top cabinets next. I opened the one over the fridge and smiled.

  Bingo.

  Connor had quite a collection of fancy looking booze. I pulled down a bottle of fine tequila. Well, if nothing else, I could get drunk.

  Great idea Cass. Really smart.

  Still, mindlessly drinking myself into a stupor had an appeal t the moment. I’d only ever drank heavily a handful of times, but I had a beer and a shot now and then.

  I mean, i might be technically underage by a few months but I worked in a biker bar for goodness sake.

  I set the bottle down on the butcher block island and kept looking. I felt along the edges of cabinets and under the fridge.

  I rubbed my fingers together, frowning as I stared at them.

  Clean. No dust. No grime. Not even under the fridge.

  I looked at the shiny chain on my leg and then at my fingers. What kind of man kept his house this clean. Jesus. Maybe Connor was a serial killer…

  There was something so… Dexter about the cleanliness of the place.

  No Cass. Not every clean freak is a murderer. Besides, the FBI probably ran profiles on their agents. They would know if he was chaining up young waitresses, fattening them up and eating them.

  Right?

  I shook my head and took a pull of the tequila, suddenly feeling like I needed a drink after all. I grabbed a lemon from the fridge and washed it. Then I stared at it and started laughing.

  The damn thing might as well have been on the moon. Conn had taken all the sharp objects. He’d been alarmingly thorough about it.

  How the hell was I supposed to cut a lemon with a spoon?

  The man hadn’t left so much as a butter knife behind. I rolled my eyes and took another swig from the bottle. It burned, but I felt myself seeing the humor in the situation suddenly.

  I was trapped. Dante was after Mase and me. I was annoyingly fascinated with an FBI agent who had chained me to his wall.

  And not for any kinky sex reasons unfortunately.

  But here I was worr
ied about lemons to chase my tequila. I sighed and crossed the room to the long, low wood cabinet under the TV. I pulled the cabinet doors open and stared. Boxes were everywhere.

  Snooping really should be beneath me. But I was curious. And unfairly trapped here bored to tears. Besides, there must be something worthwhile in here…

  I plopped on the floor with the bottle of booze and opened one. Fuck me. Rows of bullets shone dully in the afternoon light. I shoved it back and wiped my hands off.

  Nope nope nope nope.

  Okay, deep breath Cass. So what if the guy had a lot of ammo laying around? I knew he carried. I had a very healthy fear of guns, but a bullet couldn’t hurt you if it was just sitting in a box.

  I squinched up my face and reached for another box. This one had a fancy leather skin and a latch. I opened it and let out a soft ‘oooo…’

  A poker set. Vintage from the looks of it. Rows of richly colored chips and several pristine decks of cards. Dice too.

  One thing Mason had taught me to do, and do well, was gamble. We gambled for chores. We gambled for snacks. We gambled for pennies.

  I had a knack for it. An ungodly talent, Mase said. That was after I won all the peanuts and snacks the first night I ever played.

  I grinned. Maybe I’d get Connor to play me. I set the case on top of the cabinet and reached inside for another box. This one was cardboard.

  I opened it and froze.

  A badge was in here. A shirt. Photos and papers and-

  Wow, Connor was ridiculously adorable when he was younger. Not that he wasn’t even dishier now. Manlier somehow.

  I sighed wistfully and sifted through the photos.

  In the photos he was around my age, standing with a group of guys, looking like they were ready to take on the world. They all had hats that said ‘FBI’.

  Trainees, from the looks of it.

  Connor looked so eager and excited to be there. His stunning eyes were shining in the pictures as I flipped through them. There was one guy in almost every one of the shots. It was clear the guy was Connor’s best friend.

  The guy had sandy blond hair and laughing eyes. In one picture he was wearing a balloon hat. I laughed at the look on Connor’s face in the photo. He looked embarrassed and fond and amused at the same time.