“I meant that I think we should probably start in the bedroom.”
Rebecca raised an eyebrow at her. Exactly the response Hilary had hoped for.
“Dinner would be awfully hard to get through if I knew what we’d be having for dessert.”
Rebecca leaned in and pressed her lips against Hilary’s. The kiss set Hilary’s body on fire. The whole room melted away, and the only thing she could think about was getting home and kneeling again, ready to please her Mistress.
Rebecca pulled away and grinned. “No more misbehaving at work.”
“Yes, Mistress.” One time could be considered a mistake. Twice would put her out on the street, job hunting.
“Outside of the club, your bad behavior will continue to be punished.”
Hilary wasn’t sure whether that was a promise or a threat, but she could think of a hundred naughty things she wanted to do. Starting the minute they got back to her apartment.
*
D Is for Detained
By Maggie Wells
Sherry pushed her hair back from her face and kicked the door shut behind her. Sweat trickled down her spine. Her T-shirt became a second skin within moments. The heat wasn’t the only thing making her sweat. Hell, she was a woman walking alone into an abandoned building. That in itself justified the heebie-jeebies, but she wasn’t scared of anything she’d find inside, other than probable spiders and possible snakes. Axe-wielding psychopaths were unwelcome in Serenity, Arkansas. As a rule.
Hollywood couldn’t have conjured a more perfect small Southern town. Nestled between the Ouachita and Boston Mountains, Serenity was a slice of heaven on Earth, and barely more than a blip on the map. A blip that made her heart skip more than one beat whenever the name came to mind.
She was entitled to feel a little skittish. The good people of Serenity made it perfectly clear she’d never be at peace here, no matter how hard she tried. Or didn’t try, for that matter. This little burg thrived on visiting the sins of their fathers and mothers on its children.
The deserted building off the highway exit was as far as she needed to go. She didn’t dare go into town. Her presence would cause a stir, and causing another stir in Serenity might make her do something…rash.
Dust motes danced in the thick air. Golden rays of sunlight streamed through weathered skylights and sliced through the gloomy interior. They cast the empty coolers and barren trestle tables in shadow and spotlighted the cram-packed display cases at the center of the room. Heavenly light poured through dirty windows into the filthiest store Logan County had ever seen, making her smile.
Sherry had sworn she’d never come back, but here she was, complete with flop sweat. She’d put it off as long as possible, ignoring her parents’ entreaties and resisting the occasional pang of curiosity. The love child of two free-spirited hippies who dared to plant themselves in a Bible Belt town, she was born with a scarlet letter emblazoned on her chest. She’d spent her first decade and a half trying to prove she was good despite a bad reputation no mere child could have earned on merit. The summer she turned sixteen, she pulled a one-eighty and spent two years trying to live up to the things they said about her. The day after graduation, she got the hell out of town.
She’d changed so much since she left, but it would never be enough. Not for her or the town of Serenity.
Her parents were finally following their dream, and Sherry was left dealing with a family legacy consisting of a pre-fabricated building with a jury-rigged Plexiglas greenhouse attached to the back, and a treasure trove of sex toys. Turning in a slow circle, she took it all in. A decade of following the Grateful Dead had taught her father that every long stretch of highway needed a place that sold one of three things—beer, fireworks or adult entertainment. Adams’ Adult World sold all three.
“Porn, pilsner and pyrotechnics. Right, Daddy?” she murmured to herself as she groped for the light switch.
The hum of ancient fluorescents buzzed in the saturated air. Her parents had finally made it to California—only twenty years late. Sherry wasn’t at all surprised when her mother called to tell her they’d decided to stay, but now the relentless Arkansas summer was coming on, and leaving a building full of latex to swelter was not a good idea. The ads she placed on craigslist and eBay in a desperate attempt to offload inventory didn’t pan out. When no one bit, she resorted to prayers for fire, flood or even a tornado. No luck. She’d put off driving up from Little Rock as long as she could. It was time to deal with the dildos come hell or high water.
But she hadn’t been unhappy here. Not in this building, at least. She adored her parents, even if their hippy-dippy ways baffled and annoyed her at times. They were happy people and they loved her enough to give her the one thing they never wanted for themselves: roots.
A fond smile curved her lips when she caught sight of the video section. Her fingertip trailed through the dust coating the spines. Her grin broke free as she spotted the familiar title. Blow ’em Away: A Step-By-Step Guide to Blowing a Man’s Mind.
She snatched the videotape from the shelf and a surge of heat pooled low in her belly. For the first time in a long time she allowed the memories to come. The hours spent pretending to study geometry proofs while she memorized each tip and technique. Tease, titillate, tantalize.
Hands in her hair, but they were the wrong hands. God, you’re so good at this, Cherry. The memory of that old nickname made her grimace. Faces contorted in pain-tinged pleasure, but never the face she pictured when she closed her eyes. I was hoping you’d pick me. I was scared you’d go with Jimbo. The scent of liberally applied Drakkar Noir almost, but not quite, masked the musky scent of masculine sweat and come. Don’t tell Jenny…or Susie…or Lori.
Oh, she’d wanted to do it. Do them. Every guy she took brought her one step closer to the one she wanted. For a while it worked. The cover of darkness, the thrill of tormenting her former tormentors, and the heart-pounding excitement of taking control of that which was beyond her power. All a prelude to taking what she really wanted.
No.
A hot flush scalded her cheeks. Her eyes snapped open and she shook her head. She wasn’t ashamed. No reason to be ashamed. Sex was normal. Sex was natural. Those facts were drilled into her since the day she first realized the blow-up dolls her parents sold were not a little girl’s usual tea party guests. The hours spent studying videotapes paid off each time she reached for a boy’s fly. She was in control. Over and over again she proved to be everything they said she was, and she took another one of them down with her. All but one.
No. No, thanks, Sherry.
One stammering refusal broke her. That teeny-tiny two-letter word was all she needed to hear to make her give up, give in. His refusal sent her slinking away like a snake on hot pavement. Serenity held no serenity for her.
The sadist buried deep inside her cracked a whip and her spine straightened. A grim smile quirked her lips when she spotted the ancient TV/VCR combo tucked behind the counter. She found the cord and reeled it in. “Bow-chicka-bow-bow,” she sang to herself as she bent to find the outlet. The prongs slid home, and the front door flew open.
“Freeze! Hands in the air!”
Her skull cracked against the counter. She cussed, lifting one hand to rub away the ache and whirling to confront her attacker. “Christ, wha—”
She gaped at the shadow in the doorway. The peaked crown of his hat brushed the door casing, and his shoulders filled the breadth of the opening. Backlit by the blistering summer sun, the guy looked enormous.
“Hands in the air,” he repeated.
Astounded by the sight of a gun pointed in her direction, it took a full minute for her to recognize the voice. She blinked but the rest of her motor skills seemed stunned by the blow. Her hands inched toward the ceiling. “Tyler?”
“Sherry?” Instantly, he lowered the gun. His jaw almost scraped the filthy linoleum floor.
“Hey.” The little finger wave made her look stupid and awkward, but making a fool o
f herself over him was nothing new. The minute Tyler Prescott glanced in her direction, the stupid and awkward came pouring out of her.
“Sherry…Sherry Garcia Adams.”
She’d like to claim the name was a remnant of a misunderstood youth, a leftover taunt hurled by a guy who hadn’t outgrown his teenaged prejudices. Unfortunately, the man might have been reading her birth certificate verbatim. She had to be the only girl in the world whose own mother serenaded her with “Truckin’” each year instead of “Happy Birthday.”
Still, when Tyler Prescott said her ridiculous name in his down and dirty, burrowing twenty-gazillion-leagues-under-her-skin drawl…well, a little thrill chased down her spine. And if the fact that he remembered her name at all wasn’t enough to get a girl all squealy-giggly, the pseudo-reverence in his tone had the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention.
She assumed he faked the awe in his voice. Sherry had no idea why the chosen son of Serenity would be impressed with her presence.
“Hey, Tyler.” She lowered her half-raised hands and scraped her damp palms over the seat of her cargo shorts, trying to ignore her throbbing skull. He stared at her as if she were an alien beamed down from the planet Stupefy. “Uh, how’ve you been?”
Another brilliant question, but he stood stock-still in the doorway staring at her and it was making her nervous. Tyler Prescott was a paragon in their tiny town, and paragons made her twitchy. In high school, he’d been the captain of the football team and class president four years running. The resident handsome-as-sin preacher’s kid. Every town had one.
She flashed back to those interminable Sundays when she’d slip out of bed early to sneak into town to go to church. Tyler was one of the few people in Serenity who’d treated her like she was a normal person and not the girl their classmates crowned Porn Queen. At least, he’d been nice to her up until that fateful night.
“Tyler?”
No reaction at all. Nothing. Nada. Not even a twitch. For one crazy moment, she actually wondered if he’d turned into one of those pillars of salt his daddy preached about in his sermons. Then he stepped from sunlight into shadow.
He looked much the same, but totally different. His face was still the face of the boy she fell for in sixth grade, but it had lost the youthful softness. The planes of his cheeks had sharpened, the shadows deepened. Her wary gaze traveled from his face to the broad expanse of his shoulders. His arms hung loose at his sides, but the tight knot of his fist grazed his muscled thigh. The fingers of his other hand were wrapped in a white-knuckled grip around the butt of his gun.
“Are you okay?”
He shook off his stupor like a Labrador shedding water. Shoving the gun back into the holster, he glanced at her from under the brim of his hat. “I coulda shot you,” he growled at last. “What are you doing here?”
His sharp tone sliced right through the haze of nostalgia and severed the tight leash she kept on her sarcasm. “What am I doing here? My parents own this place.” Her hands found her hips and she shifted her weight onto her right foot, pinning him with an unflinching glare. “Don’t tell me y’all forgot all about us. Why, whatever would you people have to talk about?”
The man actually rolled his eyes. He snapped a nylon strap over his sidearm then reached for the buckle on the belt and fixed her with a bland stare. “I’m serious, Sherry.”
“What are you doing here? I don’t recall dialing 911.”
His already impressive chest expanded as he tipped his head back and drew a deep breath. “Wilson Wilkerson noticed the car in the lot on his way home from the Pick ’N Save and called it in. I was going off duty.”
He shrugged as if his half-assed explanation should be crystal clear, and his gaze wandered south. When it didn’t return right away, she sneaked a peek at her chest and found her nipples standing up to say hello. The traitors. She resisted the urge to cover herself while she waited for him to roam his way back up to her face.
When he met her eyes at last, his sparkled with mischief. “I told them I’d check it out on my way home.” A gravelly laugh rumbled from the depths of him. He yanked a radio from his belt and let his gaze wander down to her toes then slowly back up again as he mumbled a litany of cop mumbo-jumbo that ended with a big “ten-four.” Holstering the radio, he gave his head a slow shake. “Shit. Sherry Adams.” His smile widened. “Never thought I’d catch you around here again.”
She crossed her arms over her mutinous breasts. “Yeah, well, I’m not here for long. Daddy has a guy interested in buying the building. I’m just here to pack up some—” she waved a hand toward the impressive array of rubber dicks in the display case and shot him a challenging glare, “—stuff. Wanna help?”
His smile melted into a smirk. “I’m not as intimidated by this stuff as I once was…Cherry.”
*
The color in her cheeks gave him a taste for ripe cherries. She was still the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Particularly when angry. The old nickname still tripped a trigger. Her eyes flashed. She bared her teeth. “Don’t call me that.”
The retort came as fast as a speeding bullet. The fire in her eyes caught hold and smoldered. In that moment he was happy enough to leap Adams’ Adult World in a single bound. Instead, he raised both hands in surrender, finally man enough to admit he should have given in to her years before.
His easy capitulation wasn’t nearly enough. She closed the distance between them, standing toe to toe with him. “And I’m not as intimidated by you people as I once was, Deputy.” She tipped her chin up a notch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do and one weekend to do it.”
He’d been waiting for this day since she left Serenity. Since her parents took off for California and never came back, he’d been watching for her. One hand clamped around her wrist. Her eyes widened as her gaze followed his hand.
“We used to be friends,” he said, his voice low and gruff even to his own ears.
Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. After an eternity, she raised her earnest green eyes to meet his. “Is that what we were?”
Regret weighed heavily in the saturated air, but his mouth ran dry. She blinked, the thick fringe of dark lashes fanning the flames heating his blood. As if drawn by an invisible string, her body swayed toward his. He cupped her cheek and stroked the line of her jaw with the pad of his thumb. Proximity alone wrung a confession from his parched lips. “I wanted you so much.”
“Could have fooled me.”
The resolute line of her mouth called to him. He ran his thumb across her lower lip then leaned in for a taste. Strawberry, not cherry. Sweet and shy, not sultry and sexy. In one soft kiss he found the Sherry he once loved.
“I couldn’t,” he murmured as he pulled back. “Not with you.”
Her hand flew to her lips. She took a giant step back, her eyes widening at his words. Then the fire in her eyes flared into an inferno. “What? You couldn’t get caught with your holier-than-thou dick in the town tramp’s mouth?” She whirled and stomped away. “I have work to do.” Ducking behind the counter, she yanked open a drawer and started liberating box after box of condoms.
Ignoring the profusion of prophylactics spilling onto the smudged glass case, he followed her. “That’s not it at all.”
“Afraid your daddy would have to call you out from the pulpit?”
“If that was all I was afraid of, I wouldn’t have done anything at all when I was in high school,” he retorted. “We both know that wasn’t the case.”
She flung a box of extra-long ribbed with a reservoir tip at the pile, scattering half the goods to the floor in front of the counter. “Don’t tell me you were afraid of getting the clap,” she spat. She sneered and waved a hand toward the pile of boxes. “I mean, look at all the protection I had at my disposal.”
He grabbed her wrist again. “Stop.”
She plucked a box of rubbers from the counter and winged it at his chest. “There you go. On the house. Wear them in g
ood health.”
“Damn it, Sherry.” He circled the counter and jerked her close. Their gazes locked.
“Stop, you’re turning me on.” The deadpan delivery bounced right off him.
“I didn’t want to be just another one of your backseat guys.”
“Aw. Sweet. They meant nothing to me,” she cooed.
“Don’t even—” He wagged his head as his grip on her wrist tightened. He stared straight into her eyes. “You know I was half in love with you.”
Tipping her chin up a notch, she stared down her nose at him. “All I remember is you said no.”
“It killed me to know you’d been with—”
“Everyone?” she asked, ripping her arm from his grasp.
When she tried to brush past him, his hand flew to his belt. The clink of metal sliced through damp air. Wide eyes fastened on the handcuff dangling from her wrist. Pale sunlight bounced off bright silver. “Are you arresting me?”
“Just hold still.”
She pierced him with an incredulous glare. “What are the charges?”
The question jolted him back to reality. He’d cuffed her. For no reason but to keep her close. “Oh my God.”
The empty cuff swung when she pulled her wrists to the small of her back. He swallowed hard as she arched her back, thrusting her breasts toward his chest. “Isn’t this how they’re supposed to go, Officer?” Her eyelashes fluttered, but she danced out of reach. “I mean, it’s a little kinkier than I expected from you…”
He fished in his pocket for the key. “I was scared, okay?”
“Scared? Scared of what? Did you think I’d take a swing at you with a dildo?”
“Of you.”
“Me?” Her snort did nothing to break the tension humming between them. She cast him a wary glance and cocked her head. “Now or then?”
“Now. Then. Both,” he amended, hoping a weak smile would be enough to coax her into surrendering her wrist so he could unlock his cuffs. She didn’t budge. “That night. That’s why I said no.”
Love Letters Volume 1: Obeying Desire Page 10
