“I can’t stop thinking about the fire,” I hear myself say.
She looks back at me. “What about the fire?”
I scratch my arm, hoping I don’t sound too paranoid. “It doesn’t add up,” I say, uncomfortable uttering the words out loud for the first time. “I mean, why would someone try to burn it down?”
“I thought they’d just chalked it up to vandals.”
True. The police hadn’t found motive, and Camden being what it is, they said it was most likely some neighborhood kids messing around, trying to entertain themselves on a rainy night. Compared to the stuff we used to do, a small fire is relatively harmless.
“They did,” I admit. “I just...I don’t know.”
“You think there’s more to it?”
I hesitate. “If I tell you something, do you promise to keep it to yourself?”
She straightens dutifully. “Yes.”
I smile at her fervent sincerity. God. She just wants to be let in somewhere, so badly. She can save a person’s life, and they still tell her it’s not enough. But she’s more than enough for me.
“It’s Jade,” I say cautiously, then fill her in on Jade’s sad back story, how her mom left when she was a baby, her dad died when she was a teenager, and she was raised then abandoned by her two older brothers. I tell her about Alex and his prison troubles, the drive-bys, Jade couch surfing because she doesn’t feel safe at home.
“Wow,” Susan says when I’m finished.
“And it’s just...”
She waits for me to continue.
“What if the Green Space isn’t the target? What if it’s Jade?” I feel my face heat as I mutter the words. It sounds stupid and farfetched.
“Jade wasn’t even there when the fire started,” Susan points out.
“I know.”
“Do you think that maybe...” She studies her fingernails before glancing up at me. “That maybe everything else that’s going on has you looking elsewhere for problems, so you don’t have to think about how much is on your plate?”
There’s an embarrassing ring of truth to the words. “I think I’m going crazy,” I say, rubbing a hand over my heated face.
“No crazier than anybody else,” she assures me.
I can’t remember the last time I slept through the night. The last time I didn’t wake up in a cold sweat, certain some giant disaster was lurking right around the corner. When we first opened the Green Space, the sight of the kids walking through the door made me feel proud. Now I just feel panicked. Like the pressure is piling on and I know there’s only so much longer before something has to give.
I know Susan just bared her soul and I want to give her something, but there’s no way I can give her all that shit. So I hedge a bit, give her part of the truth. “I just feel like maybe I’m taking on too much, and at the same time, not doing enough.”
“Hey.” Susan comes close enough to stroke my arm. “You’re doing enough.”
“Suze—”
“I’m not just saying that,” she says. “You know how many people say they’re going to do something and never even try? It takes guts to do what you’re doing. It takes guts to care the way you do. Trust me, Oscar. The way you care about things is the sexiest thing about you. It’s the thing I admire most.”
I stare at her, lost for words for a second. Before I came back, I was doing all right. I had a good job, a nice apartment, a great girlfriend. But then I moved back here and I got stuck in the messy quagmire of Camden, its rundown grit and generations of depression, and I became part of it. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been someone worth admiring, if I ever was.
“You don’t have to say that.” But my hands are trembling. She’s half my size and twice as much as I can handle, and I don’t know if I should run away or kiss her. But kissing Susan always wins out, and even though she’s surprised when I curl my fingers around her nape, she lets me draw her in. We’ve kissed a hundred times, but somehow this is different. Like I’ve seen one more layer of Susan and she’s seen one more layer of me, and here we are, a little more exposed, but not afraid. Not running from the messy stuff. But she cuts people’s brains open for a living, doesn’t she? I’ve always known she wasn’t afraid of a little gore.
“You know...” she begins, breaking off the kiss, her lips soft and shiny. “I didn’t buy all this extra rope accidentally.”
“Say that again?”
“You heard me.”
My pulse kicks into overdrive and I stare at her, heartbreakingly pretty and utterly serious. And picking up a length of rope from the floor, snapping it between her hands as though testing its strength. “You want me to tie you up? After...everything?” I ask cautiously. “What you just told me?”
My pulse jumps again when she shakes her head. “No,” she says. “I want to tie you.” I laugh nervously. I’ve played around with handcuffs and a few toys, but nothing serious. And never once have I been the one strapped to the headboard. “I don’t know, Susan. Let me do you.”
“You always do me,” she counters. “You don’t need the rope to hold me down. You’re so big and strong, with all these muscles...” She gazes up at me, wide eyed, as she strokes her hand under my shirt.
“You’re overdoing it,” I tell her, and she laughs, taking away her hand.
“I want to tie you down,” she says. “Remember that first night at your house when I was on top?”
“You didn’t need any rope for that.”
“You dragged me up to sit on your face. That wasn’t exactly me having control.”
“That was you having an orgasm.”
“Come on,” she says, taking a few steps toward the hall that leads to her bedroom. “What are you afraid of?”
“Susan.” I try to inject a note of warning into my voice, but it only sounds like pleading.
“What?”
I take a calming breath. She’s walking down the hall, leaving me no choice but to follow. Sure, I could bolt out the front door, but then I’d be stuck with a hard-on that’s worrisomely intrigued by this idea. “Have you ever done this before?”
I find her in the bedroom, shucking her shorts and top so she’s down to mismatched bra and panties, looking unfairly sexy.
“No, but I’ve always wanted to.”
“You and Stephen...”
“I’m not going to ask about the women you’ve been with, Oscar. And no, Stephen never let me tie him up.”
“What about the reverse?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because by the time the idea came up, I didn’t trust him enough to do it. Stop trying to change the subject. Take off all your clothes and lie down, hands over your head.”
God, she’s so beautiful. Blunt. Terrifying. And in spite of everything that’s happened, I trust her. I want to make her happy. But. “We’ve gotta set some ground rules,” I say, curling my fingers in the hem of my T-shirt. I came over here tonight looking for something, but never did I think I’d be negotiating getting tied up and sexed up.
“Okay. What?” She tosses the rope on the bed and comes over to undo my shorts, pushing them down around my ankles when I don’t move fast enough. I catch her wrist before she can go for my boxers; if she gets her hand on my dick I’ll agree to anything, common sense be damned.
“What do you want to do, exactly?”
“Tie your hands and feet to the—”
“Jesus, no.”
Her dark brows draw together. “What? I thought—”
“No feet, Susan. I’m not a fucking sacrifice.”
She rolls her eyes. “I guess I’ve had the wrong idea all along, then. I’ll call the cult and tell them I made a mistake.”
I’m nervous as hell. “Hands only,” I say.
> “Okay. One foot?”
“Susan.”
She laughs. “Fine. Is that all?”
“No, that’s not all! What about...What about...” I look around, spotting her phone on the dresser. “No pictures,” I say firmly. And maybe a bit hypocritically, I realize when she scowls at me.
“I wasn’t going to take a picture,” she replies. “Is video okay?”
“Stop making jokes. You know you’re not funny.”
“I’m hilarious.” She pulls off my shirt and I let her, my head dropping back when she runs the flat of her tongue over my nipples, one hand sliding along my ribs to trail up and down my spine.
“Okay, you’re sort of funny, but don’t try anything extreme, okay? Do you have any...props you’re planning to use?”
“Just my fist.”
“Susan!”
She’s doubled over laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just want to call the shots, that’s it. I want to know you can’t grab me and take control. I want to kiss and lick and suck everything I want, until you beg me to stop. Is that okay? No games. No props. No pictures. And if you really don’t want to, we can still have sex. No hard feelings.”
“I can’t believe I’m considering this.”
She yanks down my boxers. “Why don’t you consider it on the bed?”
I crawl slowly to the center of the mattress, then lie down, hands stretched out to either side of the heavy wrought iron headboard. I watch warily as she picks up one long piece of rope, climbs up next to me and starts to tie. “Do you know how to tie proper knots?” I ask, flexing my wrist as she works.
“Of course. Haven’t you ever been yachting?”
“What? No, I haven’t been fucking yachting.”
She clambers over me and secures the other wrist. I tug, testing the bonds, but they’re not going anywhere. I’m tied down, at the mercy of Dr. Susan Jones. I can’t decide if it’s the best decision I’ve ever made, or the worst.
“Okay,” she says, sounding pleased. “Now where did I start last time? Oh, that’s right. Down here.” She rounds to the end of the bed and sits cross-legged with my feet in her lap. Just like before she lets the heel of one foot press against her pussy, the damp heat already radiating through the fabric of her panties. She picks up the other foot, slowly running her thumbs over the sole, and I tense.
“Is this going to hurt again?”
“It’s going to feel so good,” she assures me, pressing a kiss to my ankle.
Then she begins to torture me. She fulfills her promise to kiss and lick and suck every inch, starting at my toes and working her way up my leg, stopping at the top of my thigh before making her way back down to start on the other side. “First things first,” she says then, tucking my freshly tormented heel against her slit as she massages the other foot. “I need an orgasm before I continue.”
“Please come up here,” I groan. “Sit on my cock. Have all the orgasms you want.” My cock is screaming for release. Unconsciously my hands jerk downward, searching for either Susan or my dick, wanting to strangle both of them, unable to reach either.
“Hold still,” she murmurs, dropping her legs open so I can see the wet mark on the gusset of her pink panties. The spot is immediately obscured by my foot, positioned just so, letting me feel her tender flesh beneath the fabric. She anchors herself with one hand on the mattress behind her, the other on my not-yet-tormented leg, and slowly grinds herself against my heel. It doesn’t take long before she tosses her head back and shudders as an orgasm washes over her, so fucking hot I feel myself tremble in anticipation.
“Susan,” I bark when she straightens, blinking and dazed. “Climb the fuck up here and get me off.”
More blinking, then a small, mischievous smile. “That’s not how this works, buddy.” She starts in on my other foot, her fingers and tongue working in tandem to kill me.
Shit. We didn’t come up with a safe word. “Susan.”
“Mmm-hmm?” She licks the inside of my knee, one hand slipping up my thigh until her knuckles bump my balls, so tight it almost hurts.
“We need a safe word.”
I feel the soft exhalation of air against my overly sensitized flesh as she laughs. “Okay. What do you want to use?”
My mind goes completely blank when I feel her tongue on my balls.
“Oscar?” she prompts. “Safe word?”
“Oh, Jesus, make me come.”
“Not yet. And you can’t use a safe word just to get an orgasm. You can only use it if you’re in pain or truly uncomfortable. And I don’t plan to cause you any pain. And I do intend to make you come.”
“Susan, I’m in so much pain.”
She takes mercy on me then and fastens her mouth around the head of my cock, her tongue stroking, everything hot and wet and perfect.
Until she stops.
“It’s my professional opinion that you’re going to be fine,” she says, an evil glint in her eye. “And if you stop bitching, you’ll be even better.”
My head thrashes against the pillow and I take deep breaths to calm myself. I want so many dirty things right now. I want to break out of these ropes and flip her over, hands on the floor, ass in the air, and ram into her hard. Ten strokes, max, before I come.
Or I want to break out of these ropes and fold her legs over my shoulders and shove inside her deep and heavy, making her wail as she comes until she passes out, leaving no question about who’s really calling the shots. But most of all I want to do this for her. I want to see that light in her eye and the flush staining her chest, her tight nipples poking through the blue lace of her bra, the moisture seeping through her panties. I want to be the man that does this to her. For her. With her.
“Please,” I mumble, turning my head to bite my own arm to stop myself from begging pathetically as she licks her way over my stomach, tongue tracing the grooves of my hipbones, the scar I got when someone stabbed me at a party when I was sixteen. She’s already heard the story, and other women have kissed that fine white line, too, but Susan’s the first one to take off her bra and nestle my aching cock between her tits while she does it.
“Susan!” I beg. “Doc. Enough. I need to—” I break off when she rises onto her knees and finally discards the panties, showing me her pussy.
With my erection pressed against my stomach, she very carefully straddles my ribs and lowers herself, sliding back and forth over the underside of my cock, flooding me with hot moisture and desperate, aching need. When she decides I’m slick enough she stops and eases back, using her hand to jack me, watching the swollen head of my cock as more precome beads there, an unmistakable plea.
She lifts up and spreads her legs, pushing two fingers inside her pussy. I’m so fucking jealous and horny. I want to be those fingers. I want to be the thumb rubbing her clit, the shiny juice leaking over her hand.
“I’m so turned on,” she gasps, finger fucking herself. “You did this to me.”
“Suze—”
Her gaze is locked on her other fist, still jacking me off. “I want to see it.”
“No. Don’t. I want to be inside you. I’m going to—”
I break off when the second orgasm overtakes her, her hand moving feverishly between her legs as she cries out. She stops stroking me when she comes, and now my hips buck instinctively as I watch, in desperate need of the most primitive type of release.
“I’m going to come soon, Susan,” I gasp when her gaze finally refocuses on my face. “I want you to get up here and untie me so I can be inside you when I do.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no? Get up here.”
“I want to see,” she says, chewing on her lower lip. “You watched me. Now it’s my turn.”
I can’t look away when she slides her slick, wet fingers out of her
snatch and uses that hand to cup my balls. Her eyes lock on mine when she slides a finger down to tease my backdoor, though she merely smiles and stops when I shake my head. Instead she wraps those fingers around my straining cock, stroking so, so slowly I could kill her.
“I want it inside you,” I mutter, head lifted from the pillow, shaking with the effort. “I want to come inside you.”
“Too bad. I want to watch.”
“Susan.”
“Mmm-hmm?”
My head flops back, the pillow damp with sweat. “I swear to fuck, Susan, if you make me come on myself, you’re licking it all up.”
She laughs and strokes harder, straddling one thigh and pressing her pussy against my bare flesh. Oh fuck. I’m going to come.
“I can’t—” I grit out the words through my teeth, back arching off the bed as I explode. It feels endless, sensation sizzling through every part of me, every muscle shuddering with exertion, all my energy channeled through my cock and spurting over my stomach, thanks to Susan’s slick fist.
I blink rapidly, sweat stinging my eyes when I try to clear away the black spots obscuring my vision. I think I might have died for a minute. Slowly her face comes into focus and I see her smile as she takes in the splashes of come on my stomach. New adrenaline surges through my veins, my voice brooking no argument when I order her to lick it up. “I warned you,” I tell her. “I told you what would happen.”
“I’m the one calling the shots,” she reminds me. Then she lowers her head. “But just one, for your spank bank.”
I shiver uncontrollably as I crane my head to watch her pink tongue slip out to trace through the mess on my stomach. She watches me as she swallows, and I don’t care how many times she kills me. I’ll die happy.
As soon as I have the thought, she stands and heads for the door. “Where are you going?” I call. “Susan? What are you doing? I swear to God, I will Hulk out of these—” She disappears without a word, and the threat goes unfinished. I jerk against the ropes but they’re not budging, and I feel them chafe my skin. “Sus—”
The Good Fight (Time Served Book 3) Page 25
