Pretty in Kink

by Titania Ladley

  His hackles went up at the word whore. He took one step closer, his face now hovering over hers so she had to tip her head back to look into his eyes. He fisted his hands to ward off the tremble of anger that raced up his spine. “You wouldn’t give it to me, period.” When she blinked, he knew she hadn’t expected him to fling the insults back at her. It felt good, so liberating.

  “What’s the matter, Carolyn, are you realizing that I’ve decided to claw my way out of the guilt you’ve heaped on me and start living my life again instead of digging my own grave the way you do? Well, you damn well know I tried like hell to make you come around. I loved you enough to wait, to hope. But goddamn it, life goes on. Enough is fucking enough.”

  The last thing he wanted to do was make her cry, but she’d pushed him to the limit, racing over here and invading his space, then expecting to have the right to complain and insult Britt.

  A gleam of disbelief, rejection and fury swam in the pale-blue of her eyes. “Life goes on? Life goes on?” Her voice rose to a screeching octave of incredulity. “Well thanks to you, not for our son it doesn’t. But being such a selfish bastard, I guess life does go on for you. The proof is in the picture, that’s for damn sure.”

  “What?”

  “The picture in your fucking hand. Unwad it, take a really good look.”

  His gaze dropped to the crumpled sheet he’d assumed to be a small but thick piece of paper. Bit by bit he unraveled it.

  What the…

  He swallowed a lump, blinked, not sure if he saw what he thought he saw. The sky flashed, giving him a clear view.

  It was one of the photos of Britt.

  Bound with a large vibrator sticking up from between her closed thighs.

  He cursed under his breath.

  Though she was blindfolded with her long swing of hair covering her face, there was no doubt who it was. It was a duplicate of one of the photos he’d seen in the batch he’d brought home that night from the store. Dread swirled in his abdomen, making him nauseated and dizzy.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “It’s her, isn’t it? It’s the floozy you just had chained to your hot tub. What the hell’s wrong with you, you ass?” she hissed. “What’s gotten into you that you would take such filthy pictures of a woman like this and put them in a—”

  “Carolyn. Shut up.” He fisted the photo in his hand, his eyes snapping back up to penetrate her surprised ones. “I didn’t take this picture. And it’s not mine.”

  She scoffed. “If you ask me, it looks just like her. Can’t see the face, but I’d bet it’s her.”

  “I said I didn’t take the picture.”

  “Then how the hell did it end up in the pictures of Tyler you brought by last week?”

  He widened his eyes. Shit. Fuck. The wrong-pictures mess he thought he’d cleaned up just got cloudier.

  He’d known Carolyn’s photos were of Tyler. He had to be sure they were the correct packet the second time around, and not the racy ones of Britt again, so he’d looked at them in his office at home before taking them to Carolyn.

  To see the adorable pictures of his son had torn his heart out. But he knew Carolyn wouldn’t share them with him, so he’d made copies for himself on his scanner and sealed the originals right back in her envelope.

  But obviously, he’d fucked something up. One of Britt’s negative strips must have gotten misplaced when he’d pulled her pictures out of her envelope that same night, and then it had somehow gotten stuck in Carolyn’s packet.

  Goddamn it. What a fucking disaster, and all because he’d done a favor for his ex-wife.

  Carolyn scoffed and slapped her hands on her hips. “That’s right, I said the photos of Tyler, you jerk. From an old roll of film I found recently. It was marked “Tyler”. That’s the ones I had you pick up for me last week.”

  Yep, he’d figured that out. After meeting Britt.

  “After I got the packet from you, I decided I wanted copies and a few snapshots blown up for frames. And after I got the copies back, right there stuck in the middle of the stack was this picture and its negative. Oh yeah, all the others on the negative strip were empty, but this one tells me all I need to know.”

  God, I’m such a careless idiot.

  He sighed. “Hey, I’m sorry. Really, I am. Maybe the store got someone else’s negatives mixed up with yours, I don’t know. But mistakes like this don’t happen when digital cameras are used. Why in the world do you keep insisting on doing it the old-fashioned way, anyway? Even years ago before Tyler was born, there was such a thing as a digital cam—”

  “Shut up. I prefer it that way. It’s easier. I don’t like all that stupid technology. Besides, I’ll do whatever the hell I want. And this—” She thumped his hand. “This is what came back ‘the old-fashioned way’. Your smut stuck right between all those sweet little photos of my son.”

  My son too, goddamn it.

  Diego’s mind raced. If it wasn’t the shop that made the mistake, then it had to be him. Britt’s negative had to have gotten scooped up from his desk with Carolyn’s copies. Bizarre as it was, it was the only explanation he could think of.

  And something that never would have happened if Carolyn would’ve just agreed back then to use his digital camera instead of always insisting on him buying her those disposable cameras to take pictures of Tyler.

  “Look, again I don’t know how you ended up with it. I didn’t take the picture. Besides, if I would have, it would’ve been with my ‘modern’ camera, and I would have just uploaded them to my computer, not taken them into a photo shop to be developed. So you see, you’re jumping to all kinds of conclusions and it’s pissing me the hell off.”

  And you’re threatening my relationship with Britt.

  Her lips tightened, her eyes narrowed. “You mean it’s really not yours?”

  He shrugged. “No. Photo shops screw up all the time.” Believe me, I can attest to that.

  She crossed her arms. The dangling stethoscope nestled atop her forearm. Even though she was in a snarky mood, he liked her sober so much better. But there was no telling her so.

  “The picture’s not yours, then?”

  “How many times do I have to say it? No.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”

  “Why would I lie to you?”

  She turned, stood between the open door and her car and set a foot inside. “Because it looks an awful lot like the woman in your hot tub.”

  “Coincidence. And even if it was mine, what business is it of yours?”

  “Yeah, whatever.” She jutted her chin at the bundle in his hand and climbed in. “Burn that filth for me, would you? The negative already went up in smoke in my fireplace.”

  “Sure.” He squeezed it tight and stuffed it in his pocket. “Consider it done.”

  “Right. See you.” Carolyn slammed her door shut and backed out of the drive. He stood there until her car went down the winding street and out of sight.

  Rain started with a sprinkle then escalated into pelting drops. He stood there in the downpour, let out a pent-up breath and swung his gaze to the house. God, he hoped she hadn’t heard anything. But his hopes sank to the pit of his gut when he glanced up and saw the open living room window.

  * * * * *

  “I wouldn’t give it to you kinky like that whore just did, so you moved on to one who would.”

  She’d stopped listening at that statement. She had wandered into the living room and overheard that one bit of their conversation, but returned to the kitchen and started putting away the food and condiments.

  Whore.

  She’d never been called such a derogatory name before. Britt fumed about it as she scooped the burgers into a storage bowl and sealed the lid. And by a man’s ex-wife, no less. In fact, she’d never dated a divorcee before now.

  The air around his whole relationship with his ex had just gotten thicker, murkier. Did heavy ties, if not chains, still exist bet
ween those two? How else could—what did he say her name was? Carolyn? How could she feel comfortable just bursting in on his privacy like that?

  Britt took the bowls to the refrigerator and shoved them in between a case of beer and a jug of orange juice. She caught one of the beer bottles just before it tumbled off the shelf. Crap, this whole situation had her nerves on edge.

  She rearranged the bottles and then stood with the door ajar, staring into the back of the refrigerator.

  Volatile as his ex had seemed, she was an attractive woman, just as Britt would expect of Diego’s taste. But her wild blonde hair had framed a heart-shaped face with piercing eyes underscored by dark, puffy circles Britt had been able to see even in the intermittent lightning flashes. She had appeared to be a woman either under a great deal of emotional stress, or one who’d taken to neglecting her good looks, drinking, drugs or something. Though Carolyn had looked to be on the gaunt side with the medical scrubs hanging from her thin frame, Britt had sensed glimpses of what used to be a healthy, voluptuous woman.

  Had their son’s situation, whatever that was, done this to her? Britt still wasn’t sure of the details of the boy, or if the he still lived or not. Diego had one photo of the child in his office, but seemed not to want to discuss him. At her earlier quick peep out the window at Carolyn’s sleek white car, Britt hadn’t been able to glimpse anyone in the car with the woman. The child seemed to be a very sensitive subject for Diego, and she didn’t intend to breach it before he was ready.

  But instinct told Britt the boy might be dead, and that it somehow had contributed to their breakup. Something in the ex-wife’s manner and presence told her resentment and anger remained there between them, and since the child never seemed to be around, Britt could only deduce his possible convalescence or death to be the reason. Evidently, there were unresolved issues. It gave her pause and made her wonder if she’d walked into a hornets’ nest. She reached for the ketchup and mustard and plunked them into the fridge door. Maybe she should move on and not get involved in such an emotional, still-raw situation?

  “I’m so sorry about that,” Diego said as he sauntered through the patio door. “My ex, she can be…something else.”

  Britt closed the refrigerator door, leaned against it. “No problem, I understand.”

  “Did you, uh, hear any of her rantings?”

  “No.” Britt stared at him, pondering whether or not to spill it. Honesty won out. “Well, actually, I heard the part where she called me a whore. But hey, I’m sure anyone would’ve thought the same thing to see me strung up in a hot tub getting screwed outside in front of the whole world.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “First off, it was none of her damn business. She had no right spying on us or calling you a whore. Second, no matter the manner of it, I was making love to you, not screwing you. In spite of the language I might use during the act, there’s a big difference between lovemaking and screwing in my book.”

  She paused at his declaration, but she’d reached her quota of nerves for the night. “I um… I need to be going now. I have an early-morning shoot. I’ll just call a cab.”

  He backed her against the fridge when she started for her purse to dig out her cell phone, caging her in by planting his hands on either side of her head. “No woman of mine’s leaving my home in a cab.”

  His mouth touched hers, dragged back and forth. It made her breath clog in her lungs. She fisted her hands in his shirt to keep from sliding down the fridge. “Woman of yours?”

  The corners of his mouth lifted in a sly grin yet the sentiment didn’t quit reach his eyes. With his mouth a mere centimeter from hers, he whispered in a near snarl, “Yes, woman of mine. All mine. And even though I can see those exotic eyes of yours searching for a way out, you’re stuck with me, babe. The tall, slender—” He hitched her up so she straddled him. “Hot and sophisticated model with the long-haired, hoodlum biker dude. Imagine that.”

  “Diego, I…oh gawd.” He’d shoved her shirt and bra up and now suckled on one nipple. She went instantly hard, from every muscle in her body from her nipples to her clitoris. Blood engorged her knot and her panties dampened in response. Her fingers dove into the thick tresses of his wild hair, holding his head to her chest. She groaned out in ecstasy and wrapped her legs around his hips.

  “Uh-uh.” He ripped her legs away and set her on the floor. “The pants, take them off.”

  Now that his strong arms and hot flesh no longer held her captive, she had her bearings back. Somewhat. Britt searched his expression, trying to decipher his odd mood. She struggled to clear her mind, to remember she’d been about to call a cab. “I…I’ve got to—”

  “Shh, quiet.”

  Damn him, he knew she wanted exactly what she tried to deny him. But he didn’t wait for her completed protest. Instead, he did the job himself. Diego yanked her pants and panties down in one swipe, pausing to pull one shoe from her foot to free her leg of the garment. He hitched her back up and slammed her against the cool refrigerator. Already, his arousal bulged in his jeans. The stiff denim abraded over her bare cunt. She cried out at the sudden contact. Her shirt and bra were still shoved above her breasts and Diego went back to work, tasting one, then the other. His mouth made a devastating trail from her nipple, up the column of her neck to her jaw.

  He claimed her lips, covering her mouth in a ravaging swoop. His tongue explored, dove, sucked. She stiffened, tasting the remnants of her own flavor still clinging to his taste buds. But he gripped her wrists with one hand and held them over her head, hooking his fingers on the top of the freezer door. He jerked her back against the surface a second time, shoved his free hand between her legs and slid one finger inside her, slow, so freaking slow, and all the while his mouth continued to plunder hers.

  She whimpered, trying to release the one breath that had lodged in her lungs. Wicked fire torched her womb and she dribbled juices all over his finger and palm. Thunder rumbled and rolled closer. Humid, tropical evening air rushed in through the open patio door and brushed over her perspiring, naked flesh. But it did little to squelch her uncontrollable libido. Instead, it fanned the flames of desire. It made her crux throb until she swore she heard distant drums pounding, urging the fires to lick higher.

  “Jesus, so wet all the time,” he rasped against her lips.

  His roughness didn’t surprise her. He finger-fucked her there while holding her against the refrigerator, almost bringing her to the crest of release. But some sort of raw emotion driven by sudden aggression had him yanking his finger from inside her right before she gave herself up to oblivion. She groaned at the disappointment of being left empty and unfulfilled. Oh but it didn’t last long. He fumbled with his zipper. And in one swift, upward stroke, he buried his shaft inside her. Her damp back slid up the cool, stainless steel.

  Britt sucked in a breath, screamed out her pleasure. “Ah, mmmm…”

  The refrigerator kicked on, humming and vibrating. She thought she’d never been filled so deeply before, and firecrackers of pleasure seemed to snap off inside her when he dragged his swollen corona across her G-spot. She fought for air, longed to wrap her arms around his neck and rock her pussy so she could release the orgasm.

  But he made her wait. He still held her arms up by the wrists, his hips angled so she remained imprisoned between him and the appliance. “Suck it.”

  At first, her eyes fluttered open in confusion. But he didn’t leave her any time to acclimate herself to his intent. She caught the brief, musky whiff of the finger he’d just removed from her pussy right before he forced it into her mouth. The sweet yet bitter flavor of her own cunt juices at first repelled her. Diego seemed to sense it, because he drove his cock back and up, first depriving her of his rod, then filling her, making her desperate with need and excitement.

  “Suck it,” he repeated, drawing his finger out of her mouth to coat her lips with her own juices. He slid it back in, all the way, straight back to her throat. “Your honey is delicious, not to be
wasted. I want to see you eat yourself. Now.”

  That last word came out on a bark, along with the painful tightening of his hand around her wrists. Before meeting this man, Britt could have stated she didn’t like pain or being coerced into submission. But this man…he had a way about him, some strange power to make her give herself up, to do the most shocking, unconventional things. And not just to please him, but to please herself. She seemed to be deriving some sort of sick pleasure out of his games, out of being dominated and having orgasms forced on her.

  A gust of wind rippled through the room and carried in hibiscus mixed with the scent of rain. Her own ripples were compounding, getting closer and closer together and yet just out of her reach. She hooked her ankles behind his back and gripped the top of the refrigerator, his hand still holding her there, his palm now damp. She sucked harder on his finger, the flavor becoming more palatable by the second. He groaned when she bucked against him, riding him harder.

  His mouth closed over her right nipple, the tongue swiping and flickering so that she could swear he suckled at her clit. He growled and devoured her breast, drove into her with brutal force. Her head slammed back against the refrigerator and she lost hold of his finger. For a moment she saw stars, but the pleasure centered in her loins stormed so intense, she shook them from her head and bounced harder. She thought of a train barreling right over her, into her, humming, rumbling, until she turned her head to the side and clamped her teeth onto the shirt-covered flesh of her arm. She could have sworn a whistle blew and steam shot from her mouth until she couldn’t stifle it any longer.

  “Diego…”

  He exploded inside her at the exact moment she tumbled over the other side of the hill. A scalding wash of his seed filled her while she spasmed around his girth. Outside, she heard the distant surf as it thrashed against the shoreline, lapping, receding.

  “Oh god,” she forced out on a strangled, satisfied mewl. “Wow.”

  Diego’s panting breaths fanned the crook of her neck. His chest deflated and inflated, pressing into hers. Their perspiration mingled as one, his shirt soaked against her slick skin. The overpowering smell of sex filled her nostrils. But a tender emotion she couldn’t quite define seemed to wrap itself around their still-joined bodies.