by Kaliana Cole
Hell, he hadn’t even taken her ass when she’d begged last night. She had wanted to give herself to him entirely when they had reached the bed, all pink and warm from the bath. The plug he’d stretched her with at the club had given her the confidence to do it. She knew how to relax and had grown addicted to the burn. But he’d given her a “not yet, baby” and slid into her vagina instead.
Surely he broke the man-code there. Men just didn’t knock back that kind of offer. No red-blooded, sexually functioning ones with a heartbeat anyway. She had forgotten to be miffed awfully fast last night beneath the power of his body, but in the cold light of day she was feeling not shitty, but a little disappointed. She wanted him to give her all he was with the same unrestrained abandon with which she loved him.
“You’re awfully quiet, brat. It must be hard to just visit and leave like that.”
He thought she was thinking about Nathan. She had gone through that for over six months now. Her fatalistic streak had already ensured she enjoyed every moment she had with him and then hardened her heart and walked away. Life would swamp her if she didn’t have the ability to accept what could not be changed.
“It is, but as much of a bastard as Mark is, he is a good father, and he loves Nathan as much as I do. I think Michele loves him, too. Even if he likes to terrorize her. He is in good hands with people who love him, and if he can’t be with me, that’s all I can ask.” She squeezed the hand he laid on her thigh. “I’m hungry again. Can we stop for something to eat?”
“You’re a bottomless pit after a big night.”
“I know. I guess I should have eaten last night after all.”
“I did offer.”
“I know. I just had a different kind of appetite on my mind right then.”
“What do you feel like?” Jory rolled his eyes at the deliberately naughty smile she gave him. “To eat, brat.”
“Pie with loads of cream, and a decent coffee.”
“That sounds good actually. I was worried about piling on weight with your cooking, but I need to eat twice as much just to keep up with you. Will this do?” He pulled into a roadside diner.
There were enough big rigs pulled up to give Bailey confidence. If the truckers were stopping there, the food was good and the coffee was usually better.
* * * *
Jory watched the apple and rhubarb pie disappear in very short order. Bailey ate with the same gusto she approached life with. Her appreciative little noises had him shifting in his seat, and drew the attention of one or two truckers. He could only grin. Bailey held nothing back—she grabbed life with both hands and rode hard.
She had always been reckless, impulsive and wild. The years had tempered that, but only a little. At least she checked which way she was headed before she sunk a spur now. She was still rushing headlong into foolishness with him, though. Wanting more than was good for her was par for the course, but she was flirting with danger now. He couldn’t live with himself if he lost control and damaged her. She had been through so much, and he had no intentions of adding to her hurt.
Her blatant begging last night had tested him sorely. For an agonized heartbeat he had hovered, poised on the brink of surrendering and taking her ass. The hesitation was the thing that convinced him it was wrong. He didn’t normally hesitate at all. The problem was that he kept seeing her as she had been when he had stripped the clothes from her bruised and battered body. Torn and broken.
He couldn’t do anything that would bring back the frightening ordeal she had endured. He couldn’t imagine the terror and pain she had experienced trapped and subjected to what were, essentially, devices of torture. He didn’t want to do anything that would bring back the shame and degradation she had experienced on being found in such a way.
He wanted desperately to give her all that he was, but he held himself carefully in check. The need to dominate, to use pain and pleasure to enslave a victim, to hear them beg and plead, was a part of him. He acknowledged that, but he didn’t let those needs override his will.
“You gonna finish that?” Bailey was eyeing of the remains of his blackberry pie, spoon at the ready.
Jory pushed the plate over and watched it disappear. Her audience had grown to four. He dropped money on the table and dragged her from the diner the moment she was finished. “What’s the hurry?”
“I wasn’t giving the truckers a chance to marshal their forces. They would have kept you there and force-fed you forever.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Because the sounds you make when you eat make a man wonder what kind of sounds you would make with your mouth wrapped around his cock.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Jory opened the Jeep and watched her climb in before shutting the door and getting in himself.
“You, too?” He knew there was glee in her voice as he pulled back onto I-25.
“It’s worse for me. I know exactly what noises you make.”
Bailey cocked her head and leaned forward, eyeing his crotch. “It looks like someone else liked the noises, too.”
“You’re not wrong. He knows how it feels to have them vibrating along his head.”
“Ever had a blow job while you were driving?”
Jory groaned silently when she licked her lips, a wicked little smile gracing them. “No, and I’m not about to start now.”
“That’s a shame.” He fixed his eyes firmly forward when she twisted on the seat, tucking her legs beneath her and facing him over the center console. Her hand branded the denim-clad stretch of his thigh as she caressed it. “Betcha I can change your mind.”
He wouldn’t wager on those odds. She was on to a sure thing, but he wasn’t going to let her know that. Bailey being naughty was a treat not to be passed up. Her smile promised you the kind of fun that could land you behind bars before she lowered her head and tugged down his zipper with her teeth.
By the time her hot little tongue licked his shaft through the opened zipper he had pulled safely off the road and into a rest area that thankfully was unoccupied. He left the motor running and unclipped his seatbelt.
Bailey’s hands tugged at the waist button on his jeans. He let her struggle. Her impatient growl made him smile. She was so damn greedy. Always chasing instant gratification—she wanted it all and wanted it now. He sucked in his breath reflexively with a rough hiss when she nipped the skin of his stomach. She used the space that gained to undo the button. A purr replaced the growl as she spread his jeans wide to expose the thick arch begging for her touch.
His hands bit into the steering wheel as his lap filled with golden curls. Her hot breath teased him for a heartbeat, taunting him with its humid promise. Then she licked him. Sultry and slow from the wide base all the way to the weeping tip. Once more it swiped across the sensitive head before her mouth opened and he was lost.
Sinful suction. As wet as you like and hotter than hell.
She took him to the back of her throat and then she moaned. Heavenly vibrations tickled across rapacious nerves and skated along his spine. He didn’t fight it as his balls drew up, eager to relinquish their burden to her questing mouth. Bailey had brought the storm down—she could reap the whirlwind.
Her mouth began to work him in earnest, sliding suction coupled with a flicking tongue. Calculated moves designed to bring him undone. He trapped her head, fingers clenching on her blonde locks. “You want it, Bailey? Swallow every last drop.” He buried in her throat and spent in the convulsing depths. He could feel her struggling not to gag, to accept the harsh handling as he removed choice from the equation.
When the last shudder wracked him, he lifted her head, worried he had gone too far. Her face was slack, lips swollen and shiny, and her eyes unfocused. Her thighs pressed together shamelessly. The little brat had loved every second of it.
He cupped her mound through the cargos she wore and dug his fingers in around her clit. “Do you want to come, Bailey? I should leave you high and dry for that stunt.”
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Her answer was to throw back her head, her mouth open in a silent scream. Jory watched in surprise and wonder as she came. The ease with which he was able to bring her to orgasm astounded him. It was like she sat there, right on the edge whenever he touched her. It only took the lightest contact with her clit to send her hurtling headlong into the flames.
He watched as reason returned to her face, saw a little surprise in her blink. “That was quick.”
Jory smiled at the obvious statement. He was glad he hadn’t switched off the motor. They hadn’t been pulled over for more than two minutes. “I was feeling a little embarrassment at how quick I gave in, but I had nothing on you, brat.” He shook his head. “No self-control whatsoever.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for. I can’t even make myself come as quickly as you can.”
Jory tucked himself back in and zipped his jeans. “You mean those drawn-out performances a few weeks ago weren’t for my benefit?” He pulled back on to the road.
He noticed Bailey flushed a little before coming clean. “Well, not entirely.”
He let out a laugh and drove on beneath a blue Wyoming sky.
* * * *
Her frustration built over the next week. Bailey tried everything to get Jory to give up his control—begged, pleaded, demanded, and provoked. He would have her in a satisfied blob within five seconds and then act like the problem was over. The more he held back from her, the more she wanted every damn thing he had to offer.
She had never thought she would cry out with disappointment when Jory Raines slid inside her. Fast and hard, or slow and sweet, it made no difference. The plaintive cry sprang from her throat when he pushed into her wet sheath. She wanted a darker possession, for him to take what she had given no other the right to. To give her beautiful, wicked memories to erase the nightmares of the past.
But he wouldn’t take her ass or add sex to a play scene. He was as stubborn and as immovable as the mountains. He shamelessly used her pleasure to control her, manipulating her away from her goal, turning her upside down and inside out until she didn’t know if she was coming or going. It wasn’t fucking fair! She was worse than a little kid distracted by the lure of candy.
It wasn’t about the sex. It was about everything the sex represented. For as long he held back from letting her have everything sexually, he was holding back vital parts of him, the parts that made up the man that she loved. She had to get him to embrace not only her needs but those of his own that he denied.
Pushed to the end of her endurance, she confronted him directly. Told him straight that if he didn’t quit holding back on her she was gone. That had gone over really well. He’d accused her of feeling neglected and remedied that by bending her over the kitchen bench and driving into her traitorously wet body and not stopping until she begged, so exhausted from countless orgasms that unconsciousness beckoned.
He couldn’t do that if she wasn’t there.
She feigned sleep on Monday morning as he left for work, hating the automatic smile that curled her lips at the gentle kiss he dropped on her cheek before leaving. He had such control over her body. He knew what buttons to push to get what reaction, and knew how to override or redirect her anger.
Well, he couldn’t do that either if she wasn’t there.
The moment the Jeep pulled out of the garage, she sprung into action, packing her belongings into the same two bags she had arrived with. The rest of her things were still lost in the black hole of transit. She laid the bejeweled collar on the kitchen table, in plain sight, and wrote him a note.
I accepted this on the belief that I would be not only giving you all that I am, but getting all that you are. I delivered, you reneged.
Look me up when you quit running from yourself. We’ll see if you’re man enough to put it back on.
Bailey didn’t bother to sign it, and had to suppress a slightly juvenile urge to add a postscript about seeing him use his body to find a way around that. The ink wasn’t going to be swayed with any ploy he could come up with.
She pulled the door shut behind her and threw her bags in the car. A few pieces she had underway joined the bags, but she didn’t bother with tools—there were plenty where she was going. A quick stop at the grocery store and she was set—food and liquor. There were times when a stiff drink was called for.
* * * *
The phone was trilling loudly when Jory got out of the Jeep. He vaguely wondered where Bailey was hiding as he ran to get it. Predictably, it stopped just as he got inside. The house felt empty, and the delicious aroma of Bailey’s cooking didn’t fill the air as it had every day since he had returned to work. A sparkle on the table caught his attention, and he felt like he had been punched when he realized it was Bailey’s collar. The way it was carefully displayed told its own story.
He picked up the short note, written in Bailey’s capricious scrawl. The phone rang again as his eyes scanned her message. He answered.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Jory. Just calling to see if you had lost something.” Pete’s slow drawl held the edge of amusement, but it made him relax. At least she hadn’t run back to Denver.
“Yeah. I’m a brat down.”
“She’s holed up in the loft of my barn. Didn’t ask, just moved herself right on in.”
“She does that.”
“I saw her pull a bottle of whiskey out of the car. What did you do to rile her up? ”
“It’s more a case of what I won’t do than what I have done, Pete.”
“Some things a man don’t want to know. You want me to turf her out and send her on home?”
“No. She’ll only go someplace else. I’m surprised she didn’t go to Marley’s.”
“Marley doesn’t have a workshop like mine. I’ve been seeing welding flashes out the door all afternoon.”
“It is probably best if I give her a little time to cool down. Can you put up with her until the weekend?”
“I’ll keep an eye on her. If it looks like she’s up to any mischief, I’ll give you a call.”
“Thanks, Pete.”
“You two sort this out. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, son, and I’ve never seen Bailey look happier than she has since you gave in. Whatever it takes, it can’t be worse than losing her.”
Jory found himself staring at the phone. He put it back on the cradle and snared a half bottle of whiskey and sat down, looking at the note but not really seeing it. He poured a glass and embraced the burn. He knew damn well it wouldn’t solve anything, but it would make him feel better for a little bit.
He’d known it was all going to blow up eventually. She had been pushing him for weeks. He just hadn’t expected it to happen quite so quickly or leave him feeling so damn broken. Bailey was a part of him. He felt like he was missing an arm or a leg not having her there with him.
Only the reason held him dumfounded. He had thought she would pull away because he was too hard, too controlling, but the little brat wanted more than he was prepared to give her. He felt some sympathy for Doms he had watched hand their charges over to others for punishment, or harsher treatment than they were comfortable with giving. Hell, he’d taken on that role for others. He never thought he would be in the same position.
His feelings for Bailey were standing in the way of her getting what she wanted, not just wanted but needed. There was no way in hell he would risk really hurting her. The gut-wrenching sight of her all battered and torn flashed into his head every time he even contemplated giving in and fucking her as part of a scene, or taking the ass she so desperately tempted him with.
A conscientious Dom made sure his charge’s needs were being met, either by themselves or a trusted surrogate, but the mere thought of another man even looking at Bailey, let alone fucking her, chilled his blood. She was more than his charge or his responsibility. Bailey Verne was his heart and soul.
His big bed was cold and lonely. It had been a long time since he’d looked for
answers at the bottom of a bottle. It wasn’t any more illuminating than it had been last time, and the hangover was worse.
* * * *
“Come on, Marley, it’s not too much to ask.”
“Jory, you are on the no-good, shoulda-known-better, man-scum list at the moment. I could be excommunicated from the best friends’ league for even talking to you.”
“I know, Marley. I’m desperate. I need your help, please.”
“Oh, come in. Normally only big brown puppy-dog eyes have any effect on me, but I just love that look of futile male desperation. Never thought I would see that look on you, Jory. It gives a girl the warm fuzzies.”
Jory took a deep breath and stepped through her open door. He normally avoided Marley like the plague unless Andy was around. Then her thought processes were firmly fixed on the big lawman instead of on painfully cutting him down to size. He didn’t envy Andy at all. The deputy was going to have his hands so full if he ever got over himself and accepted what was inevitable.
“Run it by me again, Jory. I need to work out how much betrayal is involved.” Jory sat down at her table and accepted the strong black coffee she put in front of him.
“There’s not much to it. All I want you to do is talk to her. Find out what is really going on with her. I can’t get any answers while she won’t talk to me, and when she was at home, something else always cropped up.”
“You mean the fuck-her-into-forgetting tactic?”
Jory flushed. Nothing was sacred between Marley and Bailey. “I see you two have been talking.”
“Oh, we’ve been talking about a lot of things. But she always gets so hung up on your unwillingness to listen that I have no idea what’s behind it other than Bailey not getting her own way.”
“It’s a little delicate.”
“Oh, I just love that blush.”
“All I’m asking is that you get her talking. She needs to get it out in the open, and she won’t do that with anyone but you.”
