by Shelly Bell
She gestured to the handcuffs at the headboard. “I want to touch you, but I’m still a little apprehensive about the thought of you touching me.”
Understanding, he sat on the edge of the bed. “You want me to be the one in handcuffs this time.”
She nodded.
He hated that he had to say the next words, but he had to confirm that she was of sound mind to give consent. “Are you sure you’re not just riding a high after our scene? I don’t want you to do anything before you’re ready. You have to be one hundred percent certain that you’re able and willing to make this decision.”
“Thank you for checking.” She moved toward the bed. “I’m certain I want to try, but I’m not sure how far I can take it.”
“Take it as far as you’re comfortable.” He lay back on the bed where Dreama had been only minutes before. The spot was still warm. “Don’t worry about me. As you know firsthand, I can take matters in my own hands when necessary,” he teased.
A small smile played at her lips and her lids grew hooded.
He lifted his arms over his head. Her knees hit the mattress and as she secured his wrists to the headboard, her breasts hung like an offering in front of his face. It took all his willpower to keep from sucking one of those nipples into his mouth.
She secured the metal around each wrist with an audible click and then straddled his legs. He hissed as wet heat soaked his skin. Although he’d just come not five minutes earlier, his cock was as hard as a goalpost, and like a player, just as eager to score.
Staring into his eyes, she positioned her palms against the skin of his lower abdomen. Her lips trembled as she fanned out her hands and explored the area above his groin.
She was going to kill him.
But what a way to go.
Dreama would give anything to make Cash hiss again. The noises he made drove her wild. Being a submissive, she’d never considered taking the lead during sex, but having Cash at her mercy right now, she could see the appeal.
Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his chest. He moaned and pulled at his hands as if he had forgotten he couldn’t touch her. The need to drive him crazy with lust emboldened her to go further. She lapped at the taut flesh, tasting salt and spice and a flavor that was quintessential Cash.
Heat singed her skin, but it was a delicious heat that warmed her all over. There was no pain. No fear. Nothing but smooth skin and hard muscle beneath her lips.
Now that she had tasted his skin, she couldn’t stop herself from wanting more. She raised herself off his legs and scooted forward. His eyes darkened as she rested her wet core on the area above his hips. Leaning forward, she dragged her teeth along the underside of his jaw and traced a path down his throat with the tip of her tongue, enjoying the way his Adam’s apple moved up and down as her mouth worked over it.
Cash was breathing hard and fast, his face lined with tension. It couldn’t be easy for him to give up control, but she definitely planned to make it worth his while.
She rained gentle kisses across his pecs and then down over his ribs, memorizing each and every muscle along the way. She licked his nipple and lightly bit down, relishing his tremors beneath her before moving to the next and doing the same. His breaths became more ragged as if he was having trouble getting enough air into his lungs.
She moved lower again, careful to stay above his pelvis. His cock was fully erect, its curve toward his stomach. Her pussy clenched with the need to take that hard cock inside of it. But she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. Not because she was scared of the physical act—she wasn’t—but because she needed to protect her heart. She’d never been in love before, but it would be all too easy to fall for Cash. But this was supposed to be about helping her conquer her phobia. Things were complicated enough between them without throwing a thing like love into the mix.
Smiling at him, she dragged her finger lightly over the crown of his cock and then down his length, stopping at his balls, where she cupped them in both hands and squeezed.
Cash growled and pulled against the handcuffs. “Fuck. I want to touch you so badly right now.”
“I want that too,” she whispered. “But not yet. Let me make you feel good tonight.”
“You already are.”
She moved forward again and, holding on to his shoulders, leaned into him, needing his mouth. She nibbled on his bottom lip, and on a roar, he took control of the kiss, plunging his tongue into the depths of her mouth. Creating friction on her clit and sparking a fire between her thighs, she rocked against his skin. Her labia and clit were still tender from the clothespins, making every grind of her pussy against him count. She lit up inside, desire sweeping through her.
Cash’s chest rumbled. “You.” Kiss. “Are.” Kiss. “Killing.” Kiss. “Me.”
She laughed against his mouth. “Sorry.” Kiss. “Not.” Kiss. “Sorry.”
She curled her hands tighter around his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin. Her mouth felt bruised, swollen, and her body felt electrified. Kissing Cash was better than chocolate—and she fucking loved chocolate. He tasted like ice-cold water on a hot summer day. She couldn’t get enough. His lips were firm and supple, and his tongue eager and thorough. If he could get her this hot and bothered by kissing her lips, what would it be like to have that talented mouth between her thighs?
Tension built inside her core. Her body quaked as she teetered on the precipice of climax for what felt like a bazillion minutes but was probably more like three seconds. Then finally, an explosion of heat blew outward from her clitoris, consuming everything in its path. Her pussy clenched over and over as the orgasm tore through her.
She fell against him, unable to breathe, or move, or think. Cash pressed gentle kisses on her cheeks as her body continued to shudder with strong aftershocks.
After a minute or two, she slowly became aware that she’d left Cash’s needs unattended.
But not for long.
She slid down his body until she lay between his legs.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You don’t need to do this for me.”
“I’m not.” Making her point clear, she licked her lips. “I’m doing it for me.”
Cash’s expression grew heated as he stared at her mouth. Smiling, she looked up at him as she wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock. He groaned and arched into her hand.
His cock was as massive as the rest of him. It wasn’t only the impressive length that mesmerized her, but also the width. Her thumb didn’t even come close to touching her other fingers. She wasn’t certain she could get the thing into her mouth.
But she sure was going to have fun trying.
“Are you going to suck it or just hope I spontaneously climax from you looking at it?” he said hoarsely. “Because I have to tell you, Dreama, I’m so close to coming, that’s a fucking possibility.”
“I’m not sure it will fit in my mouth,” she quipped.
“It’ll fit. This cock was made for you.”
She almost believed that.
Opening her mouth wide, she slid her lips over the top of him. He groaned as she worked her way down his length with her tongue. She knew if he’d had his way, his hands would be fisted in her hair and he’d be controlling the depth and pace of the blow job. And although a huge part of her wanted that, too, there was something strangely empowering about being the dominant one right now.
She forced herself to take him farther into her mouth, until the tip of him bumped into the soft palate. Then she slowly dragged her lips all the way up, stopping only before he slipped from her mouth. Salty liquid squirted onto her tongue, and she lapped it up eagerly. She felt his cock throbbing beneath her tongue.
Picking up the pace, she bobbed her head up and down his shaft, taking more and more of him each time until he was halfway down her throat. She swallowed repeatedly, creating a vacuum around his girth, and with one hand at the base of his cock, she used the other to massage his balls.
“If you don�
�t want me shooting down your throat, you better move now, because I’m about to blow,” Cash warned through gritted teeth.
Her answer was to squeeze his balls harder.
Two seconds later, a gush of liquid heat ran down her throat. She continued to swallow, choking, gagging, unable to breathe, as she accepted every drop he had to give. Eventually, his cock softened and slipped from her mouth.
Trying to catch her breath, she rested her head on his thigh. She’d thought she could protect herself from falling for Cash.
She’d been wrong.
TWENTY-THREE
Driving to work, Cash rubbed the faint marking on his wrists where the cuffs had bit into his skin and smiled, recalling how he’d gotten them. The marks were a small price to pay for having Dreama’s hands and mouth on him.
God, what she could do with those hands and her mouth.
He’d never experienced anything better. He couldn’t wait to finally touch her.
As he pulled into the parking lot of the shelter, Cash’s residual high from last night disappeared like mist. There was a police car in front of the animal shelter.
What if something had happened to Rebecca? He hadn’t seen her since yesterday morning when he’d told her he was going out to run errands. When he’d returned from his breakfast with Thomas, she’d already been at work and she hadn’t come home before he left for Dreama’s.
Pulse racing, he quickly parked and sprinted toward the building, prepared to hear the worst as he went bursting through the front door.
Buddy stood up from behind the receptionist desk, a grim expression on his face. “Hey, man, your sister’s been trying to call you.”
Cash bowed his head and breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, she’s alive. He pulled his phone from his coat pocket, dismayed to find it dead. “Rebecca’s okay, then?”
“Yeah,” Buddy said, his brows dipped in confusion. “She’s obviously upset, but you know Rebecca. She can hold her shit together.”
Cash latched on to one word. “Upset. Why is she upset?”
Buddy ignored the ringing phone and came out from behind the desk. “Haven’t you turned on the news? The police found Laci’s body in her driveway early this morning. She was killed the same way as Nancy. Death by baseball bat.”
He suddenly felt as though he was going to be sick.
Baseball bat.
Dreama.
Had she been right? Had the police accused the wrong perp? If it was the same guy who’d almost killed her, why go after the women Cash worked with?
“Where’s Rebecca now?” Cash asked.
Buddy rubbed his knuckles down his face. “I think she brought the detectives to her office.”
The door to the back flew open and Rebecca walked out, strain evident from the flatness of her lips and the lines around her eyes. “I’ve been calling you for hours.” She tapped her fingers against her upper thigh. “The police need to talk to you.”
He slid a glance at Buddy. Nervous tapping wasn’t Rebecca’s habit. It was Cash’s. Something was up but she couldn’t talk in front of Buddy. Cash gave her a nod. “Sure.”
They left Buddy to man the lobby and went in the back. Instead of going straight to Rebecca’s office, she pulled him into one of the exam rooms.
Her mouth was tight with tension. “Where have you been? I must have left ten messages for you since the police got here at seven this morning.”
“I’m sorry. My phone was dead.”
“Detective Henry has been asking all sorts of questions about you.”
“What kinds of questions?”
“Where were you last night? What was your relationship with Nancy and Laci? Have I noticed any changes in you?” She wrung her hands together, twisting her fingers until her knuckles turned pale.
He placed his hands on her shoulder and leaned down to look her in the eye. “Don’t worry, Rebecca. I didn’t kill Nancy or Laci.”
Except that wasn’t exactly true. He might have not been the one wielding the baseball bat, but he couldn’t say with certainty that they weren’t murdered because of him. When it had just been Nancy, he’d been willing to believe it was a coincidence. Now he could no longer ignore the similarities between their murders and Dreama’s attack. Someone was targeting the women around him.
The question was why?
And who was next?
“You don’t have to convince me that you’re innocent,” Rebecca said. “But you didn’t come home last night. So I panicked. I told Detective Henry that you were home all night with me and that we stayed up late watching the televised Star Wars marathon until three. I also told him I saw you this morning before I left. When you didn’t answer your phone, I said that you’d forgotten to charge your phone.”
Shit. He’d been at Dreama’s all night.
Rebecca had lied to the police to protect him. He couldn’t go in there now and admit she’d been lying. His sister could get in trouble.
But how could he keep the odd connection between Nancy’s and Laci’s deaths and Dreama’s attack a secret? He supposed he could tell the detective that Dreama had been the victim of a baseball bat attack a little over a year ago, but it would probably seem odd for Cash to know that fact about his parole officer.
And if he did tell the truth about his alibi, Dreama would lose her job.
What the hell was he going to do?
He kissed Rebecca’s tear-soaked cheek and headed to her office, where Detective Henry was waiting.
He turned the doorknob and pulled the door open. “Detective Henry. Sorry to keep you waiting. I didn’t realize anyone was looking for me. As you can see, my phone’s dead.” He handed his cell to the detective in order for the man to confirm it.
“Mr. Turner. Please, have a seat.” He gestured for Cash to sit across from him. “What was your relationship with Laci London?”
“We’re coworkers. Nothing more. I’ve barely even spoken with her. She and I had one conversation when I began working here,” he said, leaving out that she’d cornered him in the closet and propositioned him for sex.
“When was the last time you saw her?” the detective asked, folding his arms.
“Um…” He had to think about it. “I didn’t work yesterday, so…Wednesday.”
“Have you ever been to her house?”
Cash frowned. “Like I said, we were just coworkers. I have no idea where she lives.” He shook his head. “Lived,” he said, correcting himself.
“Interesting. Because I got an anonymous call this morning from a witness that says he saw a man fitting your description leaving Ms. London’s house shortly after midnight last night. Would you like to amend your statement?”
Was the detective telling the truth or was he trying to capture Cash in a lie? Either choice was discomforting.
“No, I would not like to amend my statement,” Cash said calmly. Resisting the urge to drum his fingers, he laid his palms flat onto his thighs. “As I said, I’ve never been to her house.”
Detective Henry sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Where were you last night around midnight?”
Cash didn’t pause. “I was home with my sister. There was a Star Wars marathon on. As you probably know, I’ve spent the last eight years in prison. I was past due for a Star Wars fix.”
The detective’s eyes narrowed on him as if he doubted the veracity of Cash’s alibi. “Can you think of any reason why someone would kill two of your coworkers?”
Cash’s stomach twisted into knots. “No.”
If someone was targeting women at the shelter because of him, Rebecca was a prime target. But it all came back to Dreama.
How could he keep both Rebecca and Dreama safe?
Dreama’s desk phone trilled, startling her out of her thoughts. Recognizing the extension, she swiftly answered. “Good morning, Ms. Wilson.” Calling Meg by her formal name tasted sour in her mouth.
“Come to my office,” Meg said, then hung up.
Dreama stuck her tongue out as she slammed her phone down. “You forgot to say please.”
Like that was ever going to happen.
Knocking on Meg’s door, Dreama pasted on a fake smile. At Meg’s command for her to enter, she went inside. “You wanted to see me?”
“Have a seat, Dreama,” Meg said, crossing her arms over her chest and sitting back in her chair. “How have things been going for you?”
“Good,” she answered cautiously. This “nice” version of Meg was throwing her. She sat, but she refused to get too comfortable. It was only a matter of time before Meg slid the knife into her back.
Meg smiled and Dreama wasn’t ashamed to admit she was frightened. “Not too overwhelmed by your caseload?”
“No, not at all.”
“I’m happy to hear that. I know that things have been tense between us, but I’m hoping we can find a way to get past it.”
“I’d like that too.”
“Wonderful. There’s a supervisor’s position officially opening up next month in our satellite office. They’ve asked me to put in my recommendation. I’d like to give them your name.”
Dreama’s mouth gaped. She was absolutely flummoxed. A supervisor position was everything she’d worked for. It meant more money, increased benefits, job stability, and more importantly—she’d no longer answer to Meg. “Thank you. I’d really appreciate that.”
“Of course, before I do that, you’ll have to prove to me you’re ready for the job. I’m sure you think that this desk should have been yours, but even if you hadn’t been attacked, they would have given the job to me anyway. A supervisor position is much more demanding than what you’re used to. That’s why I thought it would be prudent to give you some additional duties before I recommend you.”
Dreama allowed Meg’s words and their hidden meaning to sink in. “Let me guess. You want me to do some of your work for you?”
“It’s the perfect way to prepare you for what it will be like when you’re a supervisor.” She paused, adjusting her glasses. “Unless you think you can’t handle it.”
