Slave To Love (sizzling erotic thriller noir - full length)

by Black, Nikita

  “No,” she said, and moved closer, seeking to prolong his touch. “I won’t.”

  A swift spank stung her bottom.

  “Ow!” she squealed, then cried out again when he pressed his thumb deep into her back passage. “Oh!”

  He massaged her need with his finger, drew out his thumb slowly and rimmed her.

  “Oh, God!” Her body went slack. Her whole consciousness zoomed in on what he was doing. “Oh-God-oh-God.”

  She felt the first tingling of orgasm shiver through her.

  “Don’t come,” he warned. “If you come, I’ll stop.”

  “Too late,” she sobbed out.

  Mistake.

  He pulled his hands away.

  “Will you come?”

  “Yes.”

  He stepped back. The tingling stopped.

  Without a word, he left her hanging there in a blizzard of frustration and casually walked to the corner of the room, to the stainless steel sink where he’d left his kit bag. He turned on the water.

  “Mick.”

  “Yeah, babe.”

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Washing up.”

  Stunned, she watched him do just that. His penis, his hands, the vibrator she hadn’t even realized he’d removed.

  “That’s it? You’re done?”

  “Hardly.”

  “But...”

  “Patience, my slave. Trust your Master.”

  She sent him a moue of dissatisfaction. “I want to come.”

  He grinned. “Me, too.”

  She glanced at his cock, still huge and flagrantly aroused, and knew a short moment of recompense.

  But not enough.

  “Well, then.”

  His brow hiked as he dried his hands, unzipped his kit and dropped the vibrator into it.

  “Let me down from here and I’ll take you for a ride you’ll never forget,” she tempted.

  His lips curved, his eyes incongruously sad. “I’ll never forget any of the rides you take me on.”

  She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Pretty words.”

  “For a bitter truth.”

  And that’s when she realized.

  “Oh, my God. You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” she almost sobbed. “After the case is over. After all this.”

  She couldn’t believe it!

  She’d known they weren’t destined to be together forever, known he didn’t want a real relationship. But she’d thought...

  Ah, hell. She hadn’t thought. That was the problem.

  “Why?” She yanked at her bonds. But they were as impossible to escape as the love for him growing in her heart.

  His expression filled with a grim bleakness, then he turned away and walked to one of the walls. From a shelf he picked out a slim bottle. When he turned back to her, his face showed no sign of emotion.

  “Now I think I’ll have to spank you,” he said.

  Chapter 21

  “What?” Caro’s eyes widened.

  This was not going the way Mick had planned. She was supposed to be afraid of him, not begging him to fuck her. And definitely not asking why he planned to leave her.

  “I’m going to spank you,” he repeated.

  She jerked at her wrists, trying to free herself from the bonds he’d imprisoned her in. “No!”

  “Yes,” he insisted.

  “Why?”

  He was growing weary of that question.

  What she didn’t realize was that those bonds had nothing to do with the cuffs on her wrists. And his reasons for leaving had nothing to do with his desire to keep her.

  But he wasn’t in the mood to discuss either.

  “It’s what you’re most afraid I’ll do, isn’t it? Spanking you?”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “It’s what you react to most.”

  She yanked again. “You’re on drugs.”

  “Tell me about being spanked. The time that still scares you to think about.”

  “You’re wrong. There’s nothing to tell.”

  He smiled knowingly, admiring her lithe body, her sweet curves, her smart-ass attitude. All his. To do with exactly as he wished. For now, anyway.

  “Tell me and I won’t spank you.” Maybe. Then again, maybe he would.

  “Go to hell.”

  He shrugged, went to the wall, set down the bottle of massage oil he was holding, and picked up a long leather slapper. One that looked like it would really hurt. At least she’d think so.

  “That’s not spanking,” she squeaked. “Spanking’s with your hand.”

  He shrugged again. “Details.” He flexed the paddle, tested its weight. Smacked it on his palm.

  She jumped at the sharp sound. “Wait!”

  He paused, looked at her. This was more like it. He wanted that spark of fear in her eyes. No, on second thought he wanted full-fledged terror. Then maybe she’d realize what a mistake she’d made in trusting him.

  “Tell me who spanked you,” he commanded.

  She gnawed her lower lip. “A man—he was a friend of my father’s.”

  Mick set his jaw. He hadn’t anticipated that. The friend part. He picked up the massage oil and walked back to her, tucking the slapper under his arm. “How old was he?”

  She watched him warily. “Not very. Mid-twenties maybe.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Around eleven. No, twelve.”

  Fuck.

  Excessive parental punishment, that’s what he’d expected to hear about. Not sexual abuse. He wondered briefly if he should stop this line of questioning.

  But no, she seemed more upset by the thought of an actual spanking than by the story she was telling.

  “Go on,” he ordered. Flipping the lid of the bottle, he opened his hand and poured a stream of oil onto his palm. It smelled of lavender and honeysuckle. Standing behind Caro, he set the paddle aside, rubbed his palms together and began spreading oil all over her beckoning backside. It took everything he had not to grab his cock and push it back in her.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “You were twelve.”

  “Oh. Yes.”

  He smoothed the oil down over her hips, and up again. Taking his time. Savoring the feel of her. Letting her take her time. And enjoy the feel of him.

  “He was a visiting minister. Just out of seminary.”

  He stroked around her ass. Around and around. God she felt good. She started to move with his hands. “Go on.”

  “He stayed with us for a week. I’d given him my room.”

  He dipped his fingers between her legs. She moaned.

  “Was he nice?”

  She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “I liked him. He was handsome and funny.”

  “So you didn’t mind giving him your room.”

  He flicked over her clit. Her body jumped. Her breathing quickened and she let out a moan but she didn’t answer.

  “Did you?” he said, and removed his fingers.

  She spread her legs wider for him. “More,” she pleaded.

  He smacked her ass. “Did you?”

  She gasped. “No, I didn’t mind!”

  “Go on.”

  “Please, Mick.”

  He picked up the slapper.

  “All right! It was a Sunday morning. My parents had already left for church. I’d forgotten something and came back for it.”

  “What was it?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  He rubbed the flat of the paddle against her butt, teasing. Threatening. “What was it, Caro?”

  “I said I don’t remember!”

  He moved to her side and lifted the slapper, ready to bring it down on her plump flesh.

  “Nothing!” she blurted out. “I didn’t forget anything. I just wanted to go into my room and look at his things. His brush, his coat. Smell his cologne.”

  “Then what happened?”

  He almost didn’t
want to know. If she’d been sixteen, fine. But twelve was too young for pretty much anything she could say next.

  “I dropped it. His cologne. The bottle broke and it spilled everywhere. He came in and saw me.”

  Mick took a deep breath. Tried to keep calm. “Was he angry?”

  “Very. He said it was expensive.”

  “So he spanked you?” Mick rubbed the paddle over her ass, hoping like hell that’s all the man had done.

  She licked her lips, tried to move away. “First he told me to lift my dress and pull down my panties.”

  Mick stilled, fought to control a surge of anger. “Did you?”

  A blush ripped across her face and chest. “I had to obey him. Father would have been furious if I hadn’t obeyed a minister.”

  “So you pulled your panties down. In front of a man. A twenty-five year-old stranger.”

  “Yes.”

  Horrified, fascinated, explosively furious, Mick carefully set the paddle aside and cupped her bottom with his hands. It was hot to the touch, like she was embarrassed.

  Or like she was excited.

  “What did he do to you?”

  “He made me lean over and grab the bedpost.”

  Mick stifled a curse, searching for a trace of trauma or distress in her voice. Found them only in his own.

  “What then?”

  “He stood behind me and raised my skirt up over my back. I could feel him staring at my nakedness. At my body.”

  Sliding his cock between her thighs, Mick ground his teeth together. He was aching to plunge it into her. Ram it home again and again until he rid himself of the sick feeling in his stomach.

  “At that moment, everything changed,” she murmured.

  He held her woman’s body against his, slid his hands over it, up to her ripe breasts, and enveloped them with his fingers.

  “What changed?”

  “Inside me. I was young. Innocent. I’d expected punishment. Instead I got— I didn’t know. But suddenly I wanted him to touch me. With his hands. With his tongue. With the thing I knew he had between his legs.”

  Mick held perfectly still. “Did he?”

  “No. He spanked me. Hard.”

  “And?”

  “And I came.”

  Shock thundered through him. “You came?”

  She came?

  Suddenly it all made sense. The strict and religious upbringing, the handsome dominant stranger, the unexpected sinful urges.

  This had been her sexual awakening.

  And what a wake-up call.

  His nausea fell away, replaced by a stunning need to take the paddle to her ass. Wake her up even more.

  “I didn’t know until years later what had happened. All I knew was it felt good and I never wanted him to stop.”

  Mick’s throat made a choking noise. “Jesus H. Christ.”

  “When it was over, he knelt behind me. I was sobbing and he thought it was from pain, but it was really from confusion. He touched my bottom and...he kissed it. Twice. Then he made me pull up my panties and he took me to church. I could barely sit down. I never saw him again.”

  But she’d never forgotten.

  Mick’s prick throbbed between her legs like a hammered thumb.

  “Christ,” he repeated. “The horn-dog hypocrite.”

  “Anyway,” she murmured. “That’s why I don’t like men swatting my butt.”

  “Because you’re afraid you’ll come.”

  “No, because it’s painful.”

  Mick let out a long breath. And smiled. Then he bent at the knees, thrust upward, and scythed into her. She gasped, moving to accept him fully.

  “I’m definitely going to have to spank you now, my naughty little slave.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  She felt so good. Like a hot, wet, velvet vise on his cock. “That makes two things for you to anticipate.” He reached for her clit.

  “Better do them fast, the case will be over tomorrow.”

  His fingers halted. “So?”

  “So you know what that means, Mick.”

  Damn.

  Yeah, he knew. Only too well.

  He almost groaned. He’d done it again. He’d been mere seconds away from ripping off his cock-rings and pounding into her till she screamed with pleasure. Hell, till they both did.

  Once again he’d lost control of the situation. Of her. Of himself.

  Good thing she’d reminded him of the ugly reality of the situation.

  He pulled out and spun her to face him.

  “Let’s say I don’t know what it means. Suppose you tell me?”

  She hung there in his chains, handcuffed, panting with need for him, her gaze darting between his eyes and his cock. “Come on, Mick. Put it back in.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  She lifted a knee, crooked her leg around his thigh. Rubbed her mound against him. The woman had come a long way in four days. He nearly weakened.

  He stepped back. “Tell me about tomorrow, Caro.”

  “Very well.” Her gaze pierced him. “You don’t need me. Or want me. You don’t love me. You’re not interested in a relationship. You as good as told me you’re only using me, amusing yourself by corrupting me in order to attract the Teddie Killer.” Her chin went up. “And when he’s behind bars you’ll be done with me,” she said as a parting challenge. Daring him to deny it.

  He couldn’t.

  He balled his hands into fists. But she was so damn wrong. “It’s not true. You don’t understand.”

  “On the contrary,” she said, her voice shaking now. “I understand perfectly. You have this “rule” about cops. But the truth is, you’re just afraid of love. You’re trying to scare me away with kinky sex and threats of violence. But it won’t work. I like the sex and I’m not afraid of you. So don’t expect me to go away quietly.”

  He stared at her, every muscle in his body rigid, wanting to shout at her, wanting to shake her till she cowered with fear, wanting to fuck her until she begged for mercy, then wanting do it all over again.

  Something in his expression must have done the trick. Her eyes slowly widened. She tried to back away from him, was stopped by her restraints. She tugged at the chain, fumbled with clumsy fingers to reach the buckles on the cuffs.

  He forced himself to stand absolutely still as she succeeded in freeing first one wrist, then the other.

  Her arms fell loose and she hugged herself, glancing around for a possible escape route. He was between her and the door. Not that she’d ever get past him.

  He took a step toward her. She almost fell, backing away. He lunged.

  “No, Mick!” she cried, fighting him, scratching, clawing as he carried her over to get the kit bag, then to the bed.

  He easily held her by the waist despite her thrashing and screaming, and unzipped the red bag with one hand. He groped through it, pulled out the items he was looking for.

  He stood her up, grabbing her wrists, pulled them above her head. She was a tall woman, and strong, but no match for his own height and power. He kicked off her four-inch heels with his boot before she could use them on his shins, and grabbed the handful of white silk he’d taken from the kit.

  “Mick, please! Whatever you’re planning, don’t do it.”

  “I told you what I was going to do,” he growled. And pulled the white teddie over her head.

  He heard a strangled gasp when she realized what it was. He tugged it in place but didn’t button it down below. He wanted her open to him.

  Tossing her on the bed, he ripped off her black stockings. Better. He fell on top of her, quelling her struggles.

  “Your pretty red nipples look sexy under the white,” he murmured in her ear.

  She whimpered. “Mick, this is crazy.”

  “Don’t call me crazy, baby. I’ve told you before. It makes me mad.”

  He held her down with his body while he tied her wrists to the bed with orange silk scarves. Her eye
s went even wider when he looped one around her throat.

  “You used these even before you knew about the killer, didn’t you?” she said shakily.

  “I told you. I like orange. So sue me.”

  “Where did you get them?”

  “Rasheed’s on Fair Oaks Ave. There was a sale a couple of months back and I bought a dozen. Now, shut up before I use one as a gag.” He put his lips to hers. “Which would be a shame because I have other plans for your mouth.” He poked his stiffened tongue between them. And felt the tip of her tongue brush his.

  “Whore,” he whispered.

  “Sodomite,” she retorted.

  If she thought that was an insult she was sadly mistaken. He slid his hands down her thighs, grasped her knees and spread them wide, as wide as he could. She kicked, tried to twist away. She didn’t have a chance against him. He felt the blood surge through his veins.

  He eased himself down her body, holding her gaze as he lowered his face between her thighs, covered her with his mouth and sucked. Her hard little clit shuddered and quaked as he licked and bit at it. He stuck his tongue deep inside her, tasting her, tasting him in her, smelling her desire, feeling her need for him. Her muscles contracted around his tongue, began to quiver.

  He pulled away.

  “No!” she screamed. “Not again. Please, Mick!”

  Her legs thrashed up, threatening to take his head off. He grabbed her ankle, clipped its fleecy cuff securely to the bed post, then hooked the other on the one opposite.

  “Bastard,” she spat out. “Bastard-fucking-Iceman-prick-tease!”

  She bucked under him, tied by all fours.

  Helpless.

  “You can do better than that,” he said, and started unsnapping the cock-harness from around his prick. He flung it aside, then ripped the collar from his balls.

  Pain stabbed through him as the blood redistributed itself in his genitals. They swelled near bursting. He needed relief.

  He rose to his knees. Crawled up her body. Held himself right in her face.

  She swallowed.

  He smiled.

  And pushed his cock into her mouth.

  Chapter 22

  Caro moaned as Mick’s massive penis slid into her mouth clear to her throat. His salty taste flooded her, his satin and steel flesh stretched her till there was not a place in her mouth he didn’t fill. Even so, she couldn’t take even half of him in. She felt the tops of his balls brush her chin, taut, smooth, hard as marble.