And she had enjoyed it.
The sex part, anyway.
The jury was out on the spanking. It hurt, but in a hot kind of way, a way that made her skin crawl with heat, itching for attention and rough control.
She could not afford to let Reed know how she had been affected.
She had to fight back and fast.
"Get the fuck off me, asshole!"
Cheyenne tried to shake him off but he was big and she still didn't have the use of her arms.
His body stayed put, his chest pressed into her back, his cock still sheathed inside her. He seemed in no hurry to get up. He was enjoying himself, lazily savoring his triumph.
Like he owned her...
"I said get off me!"
He grunted something, low under his breath. Great. She was frigging helpless and he sounded like he was falling asleep.
Turning her head sharply, she managed to get her teeth within range of his ear. She bit down on the lobe, determined to teach him a lesson.
"Son of a bitch!” Reed woke up fast. She released him in a hurry, not wanting to do real damage.
"What the hell is the matter with you?” he demanded.
He was on his knees above her, holding his wounded ear lobe.
"I wasn't going to take the chance on getting raped again,” she said, in a attempting to justify her action.
His expression was complex, tortured, sexy as hell. “You begged me, sweet heart, remember?"
"You chained me up, you beat me,” she reminded. “What was I supposed to say?"
"That's it,” said Reed. “That was the last straw."
Cheyenne braced herself. Not another spanking, please.
Instead he got off the bed and headed to the kitchen.
"What are you doing?” she demanded.
He pulled a carton of milk from the refrigerator and parked himself at the kitchen table. “What does it look like I'm doing?"
She watched him crane his neck, taking a big swig of the milk. His Adam's apple bobbed. Why did everything he did have to be so sexy? “It looks like you're drinking from the container,” she chided. “I hope you don't expect me to drink that milk now."
"I could care less,” he said.
Cheyenne frowned. “So, what, you're not going to feed me? Is that my punishment for not being the passive, air headed little slave girl you want?"
"I have no intention of punishing you, just ignoring you."
Cheyenne wondered where the milk had come from and all the other food. Someone had planned for this very well. Was it Reed himself or one of her father's other lackeys?
"You're not doing a very good job so far,” she noted.
"Of what?"
"Ignoring me. You keep talking to me every ten seconds."
Reed sighed heavily. “Maybe if you could keep quiet for more than ten seconds."
"Why would I do that?"
"So I don't go stark raving mad the very first night."
"You already are,” she dismissed.
Reed said nothing.
A few seconds passed, unbearable.
"You need to let me up, I have to go to the bathroom,” she announced.
Reed muttered a curse under his breath.
"You better really need to go,” he said as he rose from the table. “I'm not in the mood for tricks."
"Sure,” she said sarcastically. “I'm tricking you into taking me to the bathroom cause it's so much fun in there."
"Turn over and sit up,” he commanded.
Cheyenne obliged. She was sore, her body still tingled. She could feel Reed inside her, smell him on her skin.
"Don't touch me,” she snapped as he moved to unlock her ankle chain.
She feared what a mere brush of his finger might do.
"It's a little late to worry about that,” he said dryly.
A fresh wave of indignation rose. “You think it's a joke that you fucked me? You took advantage of me, if I were I you I would feel disgusted with myself."
His response, pure male, enraged her.
"I enjoyed it, Cheyenne, I won't lie."
So did I. More than I can say...
"I'm so glad,” she said, shaking her hair over her shoulder. “Because you will never have me again. I wouldn't care if you were the only man on Earth."
He smiled wryly, opening her hand cuffs. “Under the current circumstances, you could say I am the last man."
"Then I will turn lesbian,” she vowed.
Reed laughed, rich and low with a beast-like self confidence that made her instantly hot and squirmy. “You may be a lot of things, Cheyenne, but you'll never be a lesbian."
"What's that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
"It means your body was made to respond to men. You couldn't live without the male sex if you tried."
Cheyenne leaned forward enough to slap him. His cheek was hot and smooth. She felt a fine layer of stubble. “That's for thinking I'm easy,” she said.
His smile slanted sharply. “I don't think you're easy at all. You just pretend to be."
"And you're some kind of expert on me now, right, because you got in my pants in a weak moment?"
His voice smoldered, like his eyes. “I did more than get in your pants and you know it."
Her pulse raced. She was weak kneed, spaced out as he helped her off the bed. The bathroom, that's where they were going.
Cheyenne yanked her arm free. She was determined to get there on her own power.
"You're such an egomaniac,” she confronted him, wobbly. “I had you, Reed, I fucked your brains out, face it. Yeah, you don't like it, do you, knowing that you were nothing to me but a casual lay to be used and..."
The world was spinning.
She didn't feel so well all of a sudden.
The room was very hot, or was it her?
Reed caught her as she collapsed, scooping her up before her body hit the floor. He took her promptly back to bed.
The bathroom would have to wait.
* * * *
Cheyenne was burning up, her head hot with fever. He laid her down on top of the covers. She murmured, eyes closed, weak as a kitten as he removed her clothing.
"No arguments,” he said softly. “I want you naked."
She wasn't in any position to debate. This wasn't sexual, it was a medical matter. How had the fever come over her so fast? He ran through possibilities in his mind, some minor, some quite a bit more serious.
It could have been a mosquito bite. Some of them were known to carry encephalitis. If that were the case she would need medical attention fast, more than he could give. It could also be a kind of stress reaction. This was not impossible for kidnap victims.
A kidnap victim. Was that what Cheyenne really was?
He hated to think of her as such, all the more so for having made love to her. Reed brushed back damp curls from in front of her beautiful face. Cheyenne was lovely as an angel, but she was ever so much more complicated, so completely and thoroughly human with all the requisite touches of the devil.
The very thought of someone harming a hair on that head put him into a rage. Anyone who came for her better pray for a quick death of a clean get away.
Reed went to the bathroom for some cool compresses. He patted Cheyenne's forehead.
She tried to brush his hand away, vaguely murmuring in protest.
"Lay still, girl,” he said softly.
Cheyenne pursed her lips. She laid her hands down, palm up on either side of her pillow.
Reed felt a surge of blood in his cock. Her act of obedience had been so simple, so purely feminine and disingenuous.
She trusted him. At some fundamental level, subconsciously she was letting him take care of her body.
And what a body. Cheyenne was sweetly curved, her flesh carved as if at the hand of some master sculptor, perfectly proportioned, every little part of her inviting male eyes, male touch.
This was the kind of face, the kind of form one traveled the world for. In ancient
times, she might have been a dark haired siren, splendid enough to initiate wars and the proverbial sailing of a thousand ships.
And Reed had had her, coming inside her and making her come along with him. Never had he hung so completely on a female orgasm, never had he needed the woman to feel her peak so completely. For all intents and purposes, he had owned her orgasm and now he wanted the rest, every one that she was capable of having for the rest of her life.
He wanted to control them, mete them out, dole them, a kind of benevolent cruelty, the sexual domination designed only to heighten the pleasure between them.
The trouble was Reed didn't want a relationship, certainly not life long. From the looks of Cheyenne's life, she didn't either.
For his own part, he could manage as a bachelor. He could get over Cheyenne's incredible body and what it did for him. But he worried about her. A woman wasn't safe being a free spirit in this world, experimenting and trusting too many men.
Men were beasts. He should know. He had fought enough of them.
They would eat a woman like Cheyenne for lunch. Unless she were protected, cared for, and yes, that meant chain, loose and golden though they might be.
She needed a man to claim her.
One man for all time.
Just not him.
Cheyenne arched her back as he dabbed the cloth in the hollow of her neck, collecting the tiny droplets of sweat.
This was a good sign, her responding like this. Any signs of a coma and he would have to hightail it out of here with her to the nearest hospital.
No matter what lay in the way, or who.
What was this? She was reaching up for him. Wanting, offering.
Her legs parted. Was she still unconscious?
"Cheyenne?” He whispered her name. She kept her eyes closed.
It was important to keep her as conscious as possible, he thought.
Mesmerized, he touched the cloth to her breast. She moaned louder as if in approval. Reed lowered his head to her nipple. It tasted like paradise, rubbery and resilient between his teeth.
"Yessss...” Cheyenne clenched her fists.
Reed gave the other nipple the same treatment.
Her body shivered in response.
Should he be sexually arousing a sick woman?
A little late in the game to be listening to the voice of common sense, he mused.
Her teeth began to chatter.
"C-cold,” she whispered.
Reed had a cure for that. Opening his pants, he pulled them down. The underwear followed. His cock sprang to life, hard again and ready for fresh action. Action with Cheyenne.
He climbed onto the bed naked. Partially covering her body with his, he pressed their flesh together, chest to chest. If he had any doubts that she was ready for this, the kiss settled them.
Cheyenne's lips were aggressive on his, seeking, demanding.
Reed gave her free reign to explore.
She entered his mouth with her tongue, using it like a cock, using it like he would use his own cock on her in a few minutes.
This time would be slower, more leisurely. This time he would truly make love with Cheyenne.
One by one he took her breasts, suckling them more fully this time. He could smell her surrender in the air, her body opening up to him.
Again.
Taking the luxury, he ran his hand down her smooth belly, all the way to the apex of her thighs.
Cheyenne opened her legs.
He touched her sex, feeling the soft tuft of hair and underneath that the ridge of her labia. She gasped in reply, though her eyes stayed closed.
Moving a finger inside, gently, he felt her heat.
She was open, more than ready.
He pumped his fingers in and out, simulating the motions of penetration, steady, slow, measured.
Cheyenne panted.
Her nipples were tight peaks, achingly available. He pinched one, impulsively.
"Hands over your head,” he said. “Wrists crossed."
Cheyenne put her arms in place, as though bound that way.
He teased her clitoris causing her to writhe.
She chewed her lower lip.
"You are not permitted to come,” he told her, anticipating her inevitable response.
Cheyenne lifted herself, rebellious.
Hand under her hip, he turned her briefly to her side delivering a single admonitory smack to her bottom.
She shuddered, punished.
Testing her obedience, he played with her clitoris. She whimpered, fighting to keep herself back.
"Good girl,” he praised.
Her eyes opened, moist and glazed.
The unasked question hung in the air.
Fuck me?
"Not yet."
Her lips were half parted, thwarted.
He smiled. There was one way to conquer a woman as she would soon learn.
"Bring your ankles toward your behind,” he ordered. “Spread your knees."
Reed helped her into the desired position. Lowering his body, he put himself in place. Her sex was so beautiful, the lips so full and pink. Finally he could taste her. She cried out as he flicked his tongue over her clit.
"Reed,” she called his name, half in protest, half in shock.
She stiffened at once and tried to close her legs.
He maintained gentle pressure. “Don't fight it, girl."
She thrashed her head. Had she had some bad experience with a man giving her oral pleasure or could it be that no man had ever done this for her before?
It seemed hard to believe, but given the sort of selfish bad boys she was attracted to, anything was possible.
"You will come with my tongue on you,” he informed her. “When I tell you and not before."
"No..."
"The choice is not yours,” he dismissed.
"Yes, it is,” she said more firmly. “And I don't want this."
"Very well.” Reed removed his mouth, but he kept his hand in place.
"Your fingers, too,” she groaned.
He teased her, moving them just out of range. Whimpering, she lifted her ass until he was touching her again.
Chuckling, he stroked her, feeling the swell of her clitoris with his knuckle. She shuddered in response.
"You're tricking me!"
"How?” he asked innocently, once again denying her.
He made her lift higher this time.
"You know very well how!"
"It seems your body does not have so many problems with me as your mouth,” he mused, continuing to manipulate her sex, forcing her to respond.
Cheyenne growled, hating that she was fucking his hand, blatantly. “My body has nothing to do with this."
Reed had to laugh at the absurdity of the remark. “I told you,” he gloated. “You can't live without a man's touch."
"You're the one who can't keep your hands off me,” she defied. “How do you know I haven't planned the whole thing?"
"Have you?” Reed rose from the bed.
Time to teach her a lesson.
Let her see what it was like to be left in the lurch, hanging, wanting.
She would come back begging soon enough.
"Where are you going?” she asked suspicious.
"I'm letting you win,” he said with a deceptive smile. “You don't want sex, so I'm backing off."
Her mouth opened, stunned.
He regarded her, deadpan.
It was a battle of wills and he sure as hell was not going to blink first.
"Good,” she said at last, clearly wanting to deny him the satisfaction of admitting she needed him.
"Good,” he repeated casually. He inclined his head. “Go ahead and go to the bathroom if you feel up to it."
"I'll be just fine.” She stood up, unsteady.
He maintained a judicious distance, just close enough to rush in and grab her but not close enough for her to complain. Her recovery was amazing. The fever had broken and she was wide awake.
As always, Cheyenne Stanley was a walking mystery.
He was right behind her at the bathroom door. “Plan on watching me pee?"
"Not unless you want me to."
She was about to say something, obviously foul. Frowning heavily, she restrained herself.
Another round won, he thought confidently as she slammed the door in her face.
It wasn't until he looked down to see his still raging hard on that he gave considered the bigger picture. He might well be winning the battles, but what about the war?
Impulsively, he pounded the door. He had another message for her and she wasn't going to like it.
* * * *
Cheyenne's heart beat like a drum. Walking to the bathroom she had barely been able to contain herself. She had had no idea a man could do so much with his tongue. A few had tried it before, mostly drunk, and it hadn't gone well. Even Frankie was reluctant to try and bring her off that way, claiming she was too demanding of a lover, whatever the hell that meant.
Reed didn't seem to have a problem. He could make her come at will, when he let her, that is.
Well she was behind a closed door now and he wasn't about to stop her finding her own pleasure.
Grinning wickedly, parting her legs where she stood, Cheyenne touched herself. Oh, fuck, yeah, here was the antidote to needing Reed. She would get herself off a few times and then he could—
"Cheyenne, do you hear me?"
Reed was pounding on the door.
What the fuck did he want?
Hadn't he managed to make her life miserable enough already?
"What's your problem?” she shouted. “Can't I have a moment's peace?"
"Just wanted to pass on a message,” he called from the other side of the wood. “You're not permitted to come ... with or without me."
Her hand froze in motion, her pointer finger right where she had laid it over her clit.
How could the bastard have known?
"What I do in this room is none of your ... fricking business,” she fumed, editing her outburst at the last minute.
Was that considered swearing?
"Everything about you is my business while we are together, Cheyenne."
Her hand trembled.
Go on, keep masturbating. Defy him.
"Sex is private, Reed."
"Not between us. It has everything to do with our ability to act as a team."
"A team?” She gave it the contemptuous laugh it deserved. “I'm just your sex slave, remember?"
Chaning Cheyenne Page 6
