A Matter of Time 07 - Parting Shot (MM)

by Mary Calmes

  I would stay. I would be patient. I would be strong and swear to keep the secret of what the man looked like when he completely came apart and offered his heart up for the taking.

  “Duncan!”

  “I won’t leave you.”

  And all the worry and fighting flooded out of him because from that second on, he would stand secure of his place in my heart.

  “I want to feel your words.”

  Grabbing his hips, I lifted him up and rolled to my back, impaling him as I felt the desire licking up my spine.

  “Make a mess all over me,” I goaded him. “I’m yours.”

  He rode my cock hard, pressing down, shoving me inside impossibly deep, and I learned right then that the pistoning was not what got him off, but the stretch and the push. His muscles milked my length, the pleasure edged with pain, taking me inside, the intimacy and the dominance: that was what flipped his switch and made him spurt hot and thick over my abdomen.

  My orgasm ripped through me as I thrust up into him, loving the feel of the aftershocks that consumed him, his ass spasming around my cock and his head thrown back on his shoulders in absolute surrender.

  He was a vision.

  I gathered him close and held him tight until he went boneless in my arms. I couldn’t move that much, my dress pants only pushed to my knees, but enough so he could lift up and have my cock slide from his slick, wet hole.

  Fluid ran out of him and onto me, and since there was no bathroom, no way to clean up before we had to get out of the car, I sacrificed my undershirt to the cause and wiped us both off.

  “Duncan,” he began, and I saw that my sweet man needed me.

  Rolling forward and taking his face in my hands, I kissed his forehead and his eyebrows, nose, eyes, cheeks, and then took his mouth, inhaling him, kissing him until he had to pull away to breathe.

  “You’re not getting away from me,” he panted.

  “Don’t want to. I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”

  I didn’t know his eyes could get that big.

  “We’re in this.”

  “I thought we were in it before?”

  “I will punch you in the head,” I warned him.

  His smile was radiant before he was all over me.

  “You realize we have to get out of the car that smells like sweat and jizz, right?”

  “Try to get me to care.”

  We moved apart, each of us surveying the state our passion had left us in. My pants couldn’t be salvaged, my dress shirt had buttons missing, and I had semen sticking to my abdomen.

  “This is such a bad idea,” I assured him after retaking my seat.

  “What?” He had flopped into his, sprawled out, looking completely debauched.

  “Us getting out of the car.”

  “No,” he said, scrambling forward, closing the short distance between us, and climbing back into my lap. “We’re going to see this through. We’re going to do our jobs here and then go back to Chicago because I really want to take you home.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m ready for my life to start.”

  He had a way of knowing the right thing to say.

  Chapter 12

  THE instructions were: drive up to the main gate of the resort, get out, and punch a code into the box. Once the code was transmitted to the front desk, a car would be dispatched with security personnel. The guests would have their passports or other ID ready to show when they were asked for it, and then they would be wanded with handheld metal detectors. All electronic devices, including cell phones, tablets, and the like, would be left in a secured, climate-controlled locker near the front gate. The guest would place items in the locker and get one key, and security would have the other key, much like a safety deposit box at the bank. The building where the lockers were housed had twenty-four-hour video surveillance, as well as its own security guards, to insure the safekeeping of all surrendered technology. Once all steps had been completed, IDs verified, and items relinquished and stowed, then a Jeep would show up to drive the guests the rest of the way, a mile and a half, to the main building.

  Sitting there beside Aaron in the back of the nicest tricked-out, custom-leather-seat Jeep I had ever been in, I was able to take a breath.

  “I hope you enjoy your visit here with us at Buona Sera,” the driver said, smiling into the rearview mirror.

  I opened my mouth to answer him, just to exchange pleasantries, but Aaron squeezed my knee and spoke instead. “Thank you so much.”

  I turned to look at him, and he gave the slightest shake of his head.

  Not sure what was going on, I stayed quiet anyway, enjoying Aaron leaning against me, the last moments of it being just us before we were on stage.

  A bellhop met us where we were let off and carried the two duffel bags inside the main building, where we crossed a wooden footbridge over a stream complete with river rock. The way it was done, it seemed to be floating, and already I was impressed.

  The reception area was an enormous open atrium, beautifully landscaped, complete with a waterfall. But the bigger surprise came when I saw a man leading a stunning blond woman around on a leash.

  Aaron’s hand on the small of my back propelled me forward, and at the desk, the clerk, an attractive woman, smiled and said our stay would be taken care of by the owner of the resort, Mr. Wells.

  “Oh. That’s very kind of him.” Aaron gave the woman his killer smile, and I watched her swallow her tongue. “But please take my card for incidentals, as I plan to be ordering many.”

  She shook her head. “No, Mr. Sutter. He said that he knew you would insist, but no.”

  “Well, that’s so generous and unexpected. Are you able to tell me, will we be seated at his table this evening?”

  “Yes, you will be, Mr. Sutter. Cocktails are at nine in the Red Room.”

  “Excellent.”

  She furrowed her brow delicately. “I don’t mean to in any way overstep, sir, but does your boy have his collar?”

  “He does, and thank you for your concern.”

  “I just wouldn’t want him to be mistaken for someone who’s available.”

  “Of course.”

  She looked relieved and her smile returned. “Here are your keys, sir.”

  “Thank you so much. Could you please point me in the direction of our bungalow?”

  She produced a trifold map and proceeded to give him precise instructions. Once she was done, Aaron took my hand and walked me away from the front, but instead of following the path the nice girl had instructed he take, he veered off toward the balcony.

  “What’s going on?”

  In answer, he let go of my hand, bent to his courier bag, reached inside it, and brought out a large black velvet box.

  “What is this?”

  He cleared his throat. “Here’s the thing: there are specific rules at this resort that I pretty much guessed at from how Clay Wells acted when we met him.”

  I squinted in question.

  “This whole scene is based on BDSM, though from what I know of Mr. Wells already, I can tell you that the true scene is not something he knows anything about.”

  This was new. “And you do?”

  He shrugged. “I tried it a long time ago, when I was younger.”

  “And?” I asked, interested.

  “Like the idea of that do you? Me held down?”

  “Yeah,” I said frankly, the thought of it very hot. “Answer the question.”

  “I lacked the commitment and discipline for the lifestyle.”

  “So you were too big of a flake is what you’re telling me.”

  He laughed and passed me the box.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s your collar for the weekend.”

  “It’s my what for the what?”

  He added coughing to his laughter.

  “You have so lost me.”

  “I know,” he said, running the back of his knuckles down my abdomen.

  “Aaron?�
��

  “Sorry, I’m distracted by the thought that you have my dried come on you under this henley you changed into in the car.”

  I shook my head and his smile was wicked.

  “And by the way, watching you get out of your dress pants and into these jeans was one of the highlights of my life.”

  “You’re such a wiseass.”

  He waggled his eyebrows at me.

  “Can we focus?”

  “Oh baby, I am so focused. Open that.”

  I expected one of the collars I had seen at clubs I’d busted in the past, or something from a movie, or any of those I’d glanced at on the Internet. I was not anticipating a rustic, hand-forged treasure. It was a silver chain with heavy links, had what appeared to be an oxidized patina, and was polished and shiny. At the center was a thick square piece with rounded edges and on it was an engraved A. When I lifted it out of the box, I realized that on the other side of the A was a D, and that it could be flipped to show off whichever letter I chose. On each of the four sides of the square––channel set into the metal––were two long, clear stones, eight in all.

  “Aaron?”

  “It will go back after this weekend; it’s just here on loan.”

  “You could have slapped any old leather—”

  “No,” he cut me off. “Never.”

  My focus returned to the chain in my hands.

  “Here,” Aaron said softly, “let me show you the clasp. It’s tricky.”

  “The silver is nice.”

  He scoffed. “That’s platinum, baby.”

  “And I suppose these stones on the side are real diamonds.”

  “Baguette cut, and yes, they are.”

  My head snapped up. “Are you kidding?”

  “No, I’m not kidding.”

  “Jesus, what if I lose it?”

  “It won’t come off accidentally; you’d have to purposely remove it.”

  “But—”

  “It’s nothing. Now look at this.”

  It didn’t have a clasp, it had a lock, and it was impossible to work. One piece had to be pulled back, twisted to the side and then the two halves slid together and notched tight. He was right, you could never get it off quickly, and two hands were necessary. No fear of it going missing.

  Once it was on, it sat heavily, but comfortably, below the hollow of my throat. “Does it look all right?” I checked.

  The muscles in his jaw corded as he nodded.

  “You’re so full of crap.”

  He had to drag his eyes from the chain around my throat up to my face. “I’m sorry?”

  “You think I’m an idiot?”

  “What the hell are you—”

  “Our initials are on the lock part,” I pointed out, sliding my fingertips over the deeply engraved letters. “You had this made.”

  He was silent.

  “But the question is, when did you have it made?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Aaron? You like the idea of a collar on me, do you?”

  He was quiet but he held my gaze.

  “Answer me.”

  “Yes.” His voice quavered. “I love the idea of you wearing something that says you’re mine. I wanted to get a huge gold chain with some enormous, really obnoxious, gold pendant with my name spelled out in diamonds on it, but I figured you’d think that was gaudy.”

  What I was wearing was heavy, the weight of it substantial, but it was not flashy, and you couldn’t see the diamonds unless you turned the lock to look at the sides. Plus any collared shirt would hide it; even the top button of a shirt open wouldn’t reveal the presence of the chain. I had to be stripping out of clothes for it to be seen, which I guessed was Aaron’s intent.

  As a chain went, or collar—whatever he was calling it—the piece had clean lines and was very beautiful in my opinion. And really, the weight was sort of grounding, comforting. “I don’t know if I’ll keep it,” I said, glancing at him.

  “Whatever you want, but maybe…. You know, Jory has a tattoo on his back of Sam’s name, and I never understood the point of that. I always thought he was such an idiot for doing it, but will you let me do that? Could I ink my name on your skin? Or a brand? How ’bout a brand?”

  I couldn’t control my smile.

  “Down the road,” he murmured, crowding up against me, hands on my hips. “Along with the ring.”

  “We already talked about the ring.”

  “Yes.”

  “A ring is a serious thing, Sutter.”

  He lifted a hand to the chain and fisted it. “This is serious, too, make no mistake.”

  “But this is just a cover,” I reminded him.

  But his eyes didn’t agree.

  I moved closer, my body flush with his until we were breathing each other’s air. “Thank you for the gift.”

  “It’s only a gift if you keep it.”

  I felt over the lock, found the side with the A, and flipped it so that was visible. His tremble was obvious. “You’re easy to please.”

  “But I’m really not.” He grinned evilly, leaning in to place a kiss behind my jaw. “I just seem to be smitten presently.”

  “Presently?” I teased, as one kiss became another and another, traveling down the side of my neck. The trail of them was wet, and the nibbling that accompanied each press of lips was doing funny things to my stomach.

  “Yeah,” he said, his hand brushing over the copper dragon belt buckle the front of my T-shirt was tucked behind. “Where did you get this?”

  “Why? You like it?”

  “I do,” he said, tracing over it, his fingers trailing upward. “I like what’s under it too.”

  “And I like that I have you on my skin.”

  “Shit,” he groaned. “I can’t trade banter with you, you always win. I want you too much.”

  “It goes both ways,” I promised him. “Now let’s find the damn bungalow.”

  “It’s an adobe-style casita, actually.”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  He cupped my cheek in his hand for a second, like I was dear, and then he told me to follow him.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t do that,” he growled. “You start calling me sir and we’ll never leave the room.”

  “You like me.”

  “No,” he said absently, studying the map. “It’s a lot more than that.”

  But how much more would be too fast, so neither of us was going there.

  I was overwhelmed and wanted time to think, but he was moving, intent on finding our room, and I had to hurry to catch up to him.

  It turned out we had our own small house, complete with a private patio and pool, a hot tub, and an amazing view of the mountains.

  The master bedroom had a roof that could, with the push of a button, be retracted so you could sleep under the stars with nothing between you and the sky. The shower was so big, it had no doors, just a drain depressed in the center.

  “It’ll be like having sex outside,” I announced happily.

  Aaron made a face like I had lost my mind, and then gestured me after him through the sliding glass door to the lanai.

  “What?”

  “Are you kidding?” He was horrified.

  “I missed something. What are we talking about?”

  “No sex,” he whispered.

  “Why?” I asked, being as quiet as he was. “You got a problem doing it without the roof on?”

  “No,” he shook his head. “I have a problem doing it here at all. Imagine how much surveillance there is here.”

  He’d lost me. “Video surveillance?”

  “And audio,” he educated me. “Any sex we have here is being recorded. That’s why I wanted to do you on the plane or in the car; you think I was ready to go three days without you when I just got you back? I mean, yeah, I get it; we’re here to get the bad guy, but… I needed to get laid.”

  His words finally sank in. “Wait, you’re not planning to fuck me until we le
ave here?”

  He smirked at me.

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “This is serious, Detective,” he said under his breath. “We’re undercover.”

  I so enjoyed being placated.

  WE SPENT the day doing random activities like everyone else. There was tennis, which I sucked at, but Aaron had godlike skills on the court; skeet shooting that I should have been able to dust him at, but he was better at firing a rifle; and finally horseback riding that was a complete blowout. I fell off during a canter, and the man of my dreams laughed so hard, tears rolled down his face. It was not romantic in the least, and I never knew that horses pissed and shit while they walked. Lots of delusions shattered all at once.

  That evening we went for drinks in the Red Room, so named because of the color of the walls, the sheer curtains, and the mood lighting. The tables, marble floor, and low couches where everyone reclined were all the same color.

  Clay Wells was thrilled to see us and sat Aaron at his right. As clothing went, I realized I was overdressed in my jeans and short-sleeved silk shirt. Most of the other people sporting collars had barely anything on.

  “What can we get you to drink?”

  Aaron got a scotch and water, and I got some whiskey to sip.

  “It’s amazing, you know,” Clay said after a few minutes.

  “What’s that?” Aaron inquired.

  His eyes flicked to me and then back to my man. “How many people requested a scene with Duncan until they learned who he belonged to.”

  Aaron’s smile was absolutely sinful. “No one’s stupid enough to touch something of mine.”

  “Oh no?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I have hit men on my payroll, after all.”

  And that was crap. I knew it was, but Clay Wells didn’t, and neither did anyone else sitting close. They made sure to not even glance my way.

  “I’m a billionaire.” He snapped his fingers. “I make people disappear at will.”

  I slid my hand over his thigh because he needed to control his inner alpha. When I leaned sideways to whisper in his ear, he cupped the back of my head.

  “Don’t have to go all possessive right here in front of everyone,” I reminded him.

  “Yes, I do,” he whispered back.