Reginald Bones: Part One

by Lucian Bane

  He reached and straightened her dress at her legs, pausing when she jumped from the touch. What was wrong with her? Why? He wanted to ask her. Why are you even here? Why did you agree to any of this if you’re terrified? What are you doing, Winter? What are you thinking?

  ****

  Winter fought her body’s need to panic. Christopher. He’d said he’d come first. God, he sounded a lot like Reginald. If only. She wished he’d do something already. He sat there next to her doing nothing. Was he staring? Did he not like her? Was he angry, changing his mind?

  She wanted to say something, do something, but dared not move or speak and say the wrong thing. He touched her hand and she tried so hard to control the tremble in her body. She fought her instincts to coil up in a ball as he pulled her hand toward him. Warm lips pressed against the back of it. “You look so beautiful, Cinnamon,” he whispered, making her heart race hard with anticipation of what was coming any second. Not knowing his intentions was harder than knowing. She decided to imagine he was Reginald. It could be her last wish come true before she gave it all up. Was that selfish, she wondered?

  He held her hand in his and slowly drew his other fingers up her arm. The touch was so soft it nearly pained her as it flowed over her shoulder. She pictured Reginald’s handsome face and waited for the touch to move to her breasts, but instead it moved along her neck. Her lips parted with her sharp breaths as reality set in, reminding her he may strangle her for fun. She needed to be ready. His fingers stroked softly along her jaw then moved up her face.

  “So… beautiful,” he whispered again as he petted her hair and pressed his lips to her palm. “Don’t be scared. I’d never hurt you,” he said, making her heart jerk in her chest.

  Why was he doing this? She didn’t understand what he was doing. “I-I don’t know what to do,” she barely whispered back. The words shook with the rest of her body. “I’m sorry, I’m…” tears stung her eyes behind the blindfold as she held herself together. She clutched the ugly images of her brother tight to her chest, mangled in a brutal death, but it only caused the agony in her chest to grow. Her mouth opened wider and she panted in effort to hold back the roiling mass pushing up her throat, clawing for freedom.

  ****

  Reginald was ready to stop it all at seeing her on the verge of a break down.

  You do that and we’re done.

  Look at her, she’s a fucking wreck!

  She’s scared shitless, Bones muttered.

  This is wrong.

  Then make it right, little Reggie. Be the man you so desperately need to be. This is your chance. Do it.

  If Reginald didn’t know better, he heard a hunger deep down in Bones’ tone. Like he wanted Reginald to do his best. And win.

  The idea made him pause and consider that. Did Bones want that? Did he want him to be normal because… Bones wanted that?

  “Do something,” she gasped barely. “Anything.”

  Reginald stood and went behind her, staring down. He carefully placed his hands on her shoulders then slid his fingers along the soft skin, lifting her hair. He closed his eyes and imagined she was waiting for him to be the man he longed to be. Waiting for him to be the man she longed to have.

  Eyes closed, he lowered his head to her neck and merely breathed her in. He remembered what she’d said. That she liked being commanded. Had she meant that? He couldn’t bring himself to speak any words as he got lost in the smell and feel of her.

  “Cinnamon,” he whispered at her neck, letting his lips graze the soft skin. The slightest intake of her breath encouraged him. He supported the right of her neck in one hand and stroked the left with the other. He pushed a little, tilting her head so the silky column was bare to him. “Your safe word,” he whispered, remembering. “Is… more.”

  Reginald took in a deep breath of her and shed all his fears. He dove into that dream. Without hesitation, he slid his lips from the nape of her hair slowly down her neck until he reached her shoulder. Hunger ignited and he opened his lips to feel more, gliding his mouth back up the same path. He returned back down, slower, tasting this time with his tongue. On the way back up, he sucked the skin softly with each kiss. Each kiss placed carefully, inch by inch. Yes, he could do this for hours but he remembered he only had not even one now. And the sound of her soft breaths growing more strained as he became bolder, made him delirious.

  He finally pulled up and moved to stand before her. Without fear, he began removing his clothes until he stood before her, naked.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Cinnamon struggled to stay focused but Christopher pulled her away. With only his lips, he called her away to a forbidden place. A place she could never go, should never go, was not meant to. But he commanded her. And she remembered her place, her purpose there. To be commanded and obey.

  She forced herself to give in to the unspoken orders of his kisses. Relax. Let go. She felt him move from behind her and her body instinctively followed his heat. She angled her head, focusing on where he might be or what he might do, all while waiting for the pain.

  She gave a light gasp as his legs pressed into her outer thighs. Without being able to see and not daring to reach her hands out, she perceived he stood exactly before her, his legs straddling hers.

  She kept her head level, waiting for the force of a cock in her mouth. But again, his touch was soft and not where she’d expected. He took hold of her face in his large hands and commanded it up with a gentle tilt. She obeyed, fighting to get more air into her lungs, wanting more than ever to see the face of this man. To see in his eyes what she felt in his touch. See what a man capable of this even looked like.

  She gave a whimper when his lips grazed barely all along the edge of her mouth. Just like he’d done on her neck, he slowly grew hungrier with ever kiss.

  And then he did something no man in all her life had ever done. He devoured her. His hungry breaths blasted into her lungs as his tongue plunged and tasted her like she was a feast for a king. His fingers bit into her jaw and a soft cry escaped her as his kisses grew more desperate and powerful. His hands slid down to her neck, his touch still careful as he fought to get at every crevice in her mouth.

  He shoved her knees open suddenly, bringing a sharp gasp. His hot body filled the space between her legs and she gripped the edges of the chair with all her strength, panting in breathless need. A cry fought to escape her when he slowly lowered her top. The act was the most reverent she’d ever felt.

  “God.” The croaked whisper sent goosebumps racing over her skin, tightening her nipples.

  The hot, hard muscle of his torso pushed between her legs, making her breasts swell with a strange eagerness. She gave a sharp cry when he gripped her breasts in his large hands and began devouring them with his mouth, one, then the other in the same frenzy he’d kissed her. His mouth suddenly covered hers again, raging like a storm before moving to her cheek then down her neck and back to her breasts.

  “Christopher,” she barely cried, silently begging him to command her.

  “Open your legs for me.”

  She hurried to obey the soft, hungry order. She held her knees open and her back straight, making her breasts stand out.

  “Cinnamon,” he barely whispered, sliding his reverent touch along her inner thighs, pushing her dress up higher as he did. “You’re the most beautiful woman,” he said thickly.

  Her breaths strained as his fingers neared the top of her thighs.

  “Look at you,” he barely said, stroking his finger over the center of her panties, making her cry out. “You’re wet.”

  He sounded so very pleased and heat flashed through her body as he pulled at the edge of her panties.

  Her breath shot out when he gave the panties a sudden yank, snapping the thin strings holding them on her. His mouth was on hers again, kissing with that same hunger from before, as his fingers carefully touched between her swollen folds. He moved them in random flutters, grazing her clit and stealing her breath every time until she
grunted with the need to be touched on it. Jesus, what was he doing to her? She never wanted to be touched there. Not ever.

  He slid a finger inside her as he kissed her on and on, his tongue and lips feasting at her mouth as he explored her dirty secrets she never wanted him to know. He used one finger, then two, like he’d found treasure and needed to examine it more thoroughly. She pushed her hips into his hand, wanting to help him get at what he sought.

  “Sweet Cinnamon,” he gasped into her mouth. His fingers inside became demanding, his hand clenching in her hair so perfectly tight. Not vicious, not mean, not threatening, it was… it was some kind of heaven. Some kind of heaven she’d never known of, dreamed of. It was inside his breath and touch and swallowing her up. It wanted her. It wanted all of her, not asking, but demanding. “Oh God, oh God,” she whispered, flicking her hips to reach his driving thrust. “I need you,” she cried in delirious hunger, not caring she’d done what a woman should never do—confess her deepest needs. She couldn’t stop it. She needed the man he was being, too much for too long. Lord help me. Please, I beg you, help me. I’m falling for this man. I’m falling so fast and so hard that all my dreams of dying will shatter against this life. A life she didn’t want or deserve.

  ****

  She needed him. Those words. Those beautiful, impossible, magical words. Reginald had questioned many things about life, searching for answers to questions he couldn’t put his finger on and this was it. He’d found it. He’d found his purpose, it was right there, screaming out of her. And he was making that happen.

  It made Reginald remember his job, winning this competition, winning her choice. And the orgasm. Shit, the orgasm. He didn’t think she’d had one yet. The women made a lot of noise when they had those and while she was making plenty, it wasn’t the kind he recalled. But she was close.

  After what felt like five days, Reginald fought his frustration. He wanted to stop and look at the clock, he had to be close to times-up.

  Five-minute warning, Bones suddenly blared right in his ear, confirming his worst fear.

  Christ, this orgasm was turning out to not be as easy as it looked. He was having trouble with coordination. He wasn’t sure, but it seemed like the second he’d focused on bringing her orgasm, things changed. He knew he needed to stimulate the clit and the g-spot and the nipples, but juggling all three at once was proving difficult. No, it was proving ridiculous. He was ridiculous. She was right there and then he wrecked it with all his trying. Her body was so perfectly tuned to everything he did and that was the problem. He was stumbling through moves that needed precision and ease, not what he was doing. He was sure there was an embarrassing name for it and he was sure Bones would know it and inform him of it later.

  Two-minute warning, Reggieboy.

  “Shut the fuck up,” he hissed.

  “I—I’m—”

  “Not you,” he gasped, kissing her. Two minutes. Fuck! “I need you to come for me,” he whispered, fighting to keep the desperation out of his tone.

  She nodded and licked her lips. “I-I usually never…” she shook her head, her forehead furrowed with worry. “I’ll do my best.”

  At hearing the worry in her tone, he took her face in his hands and “shhhh’d” her with kisses. “Don’t worry, sweet Cinnamon.”

  “I’m sorry,” she barely gasped. “It’s not you, I promise, you’re… you’re so amazing, no man has ever made me feel so good before.”

  One minute, Reggieboy, Bones said. Reginald grit his teeth and put his forehead on Cinnamon’s. “You are amazing and beautiful,” he whispered. “You are also the first woman I’ve ever touched like this.”

  She let out several small gasps. “I-I am?”

  He nodded and kissed her lips, wanting to never stop tasting her. “I swear to you, if you choose me,” he whispered, “I will treat you like a queen. I will protect you and cherish you with all that I am.”

  Times up loverboy. You’ll have to beg her online. Let her know.

  “My time is up,” he barely said, letting Bones pull him away. “My brother will come in now. Don’t let him scare you.”

  Don’t you dare sway my audience, Bones said. Or I’ll sway yours.

  Fine. I’m done. She didn’t orgasm.

  I am well aware.

  I’m sure you are, Reginald muttered as he retreated behind Bones and let him take over.

  The first thing he did was walk over to the sink and wash his mouth out, then hands. You’re a bastard.

  Indeed.

  Reginald stood far enough back that he didn’t have to see her, but close enough to make sure Bones didn’t do anything stupid.

  On his way back, Bones grabbed the other chair from the dinette and set it before her. Reginald couldn’t watch this.

  ****

  Winter angled her head, listening for the door to open and close but it never did. Had they come in together and he was watching in the other room? Was he watching from in the same room?

  She heard light rustling before her and felt a breeze with the scent she’d smelled with Christopher. Maybe they wore the same cologne. It had an earthy, masculine smell. She fought to still the hammering in her chest as her stomach knotted.

  “Miss. Cinnamon. Wrolls,”

  Shame slowly crept up her neck at the way he said Wrolls. like he might be referring to her weight. She prepared herself for verbal abuse. She was used to that kind of thing.

  “I’m going to ask you questions. You will answer quickly, accurately, and honestly. If you do not… we are done.”

  Questions? Why were they so strange? Why couldn’t they just do the deed? And the brutal severity she heard in his light tone confused her in connection to questions.

  “I understand,” she finally said, making her voice strong.

  “What’s your real name?”

  Her real name? She remembered it didn’t matter who knew now. “Winter.” She cleared her throat a little. “Winter Rose Brown.”

  She waited for the insults. “Good,” he said, like he already knew that and was testing her honesty. How would he know her real name?

  “Why are you on the website where we met?”

  “Looking for a Sadist.”

  “Why are you looking for a Sadist?”

  “I-I’m a Masochist,” she answered evenly.

  “Why are you looking for a sadist,” he repeated, his tone indicating she’d not answered right.

  She thought about the correct answer, fighting to ignore her brain’s need to examine why ask? She needed to just answer. Without thinking about the rest. “I like pain.”

  “Why do you like pain?”

  She considered the question. “I want pain.”

  “Why do you want pain?”

  The calm in his tone raked over her nerves. “Because…”

  “Waiting,” he said, his patience already expired.

  “Because you like to give it.”

  She suddenly gasped when her entire chair jerked forward. “Miss Brown,” he said, his hot breath hitting her lips. “That’s not why you are here.”

  The barely restrained darkness in him had her breathless. “I-I want you to hurt me… because I deserve it,” she finally said, her bold words shaking a little.

  She waited in the long silence, feeling his hands still on either side of her chair, pressing into her outer thighs. “Why do you deserve it?”

  Did he know already? Did he know the truth, did he know her brother? Her heart hammered that he might. “I…

  “The truth,” he warned, his words low and tight.

  He knew. How he knew she had no idea but he did and if she didn’t tell him this was over. “I killed my brother.”

  The air thickened with her burning shame until she gasped for air.

  “You killed your brother,” he muttered. “Don’t make me ask the next question.”

  The open loathe in his tone brought tears to her eyes. She fought for strength to finish the confession. “I’m a selfish bitch,” s
he whispered. “I needed a fix. I gave my pimp his name in exchange for a high,” she barely managed between attempts to get more air.

  He shoved her chair back with a biting judgement. “That’s pretty fucking brutal,” he mused lightly, sounding like he paced before her.

  She sat there with her head lowered, wishing he’d kill her and get it over with. Why did he care who she killed? Why would a sadist want to judge her?

  “And now you want to be punished. You dump your brother in hell for a high, feel terrible, and seek to appease your guilt. Can you tell me, Miss Cinnamon Wrolls… how the fuck is that unselfish?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “It’s not,” the woman strained before him. “I told you, I’m a selfish bitch,” she grit out.

  Bones fought himself, pacing restlessly, his fists opening and closing with the need for something he knew wasn’t good. He’d given Reggie his word that he’d behave, but that little detail she’d busted him in the head with was making it very, very hard.

  He stormed back over to her, putting his chair exactly in front of her again and sitting. “How did he die?” he demanded.

  “I-I found him in the tub,” she whispered. “I didn’t have my phone. I left it at the job and couldn’t call for help.” Her chin shook as her mouth fought with the words. “He’d been beaten badly and… there was so much powder on his lips…”

  Every second brought Bones closer to an edge. “How did you kill him?” he repeated, needing the details.

  “I-I sold his name and my pimp took him and got him into things he couldn’t—

  “How… did… you kill him,” he ground out.

  A sob escaped her. “I told you,” she grit back. “It was my fault, I was his sister—”

  “Did you beat your brother to death?” he yelled in her face. “Did you shove the fucking drugs down his throat?”

  “Yes!” she screamed back. “I shoved them down his throat, I beat him to death, I raped him!” she wailed. “I was his sister,” she gasped. “I sold my sweet baby brother for a high, you dumb fucking bastard!” she barely said.