Cuffed & Collared

by Samantha Cayto

  “Sorry,” he breathed into the phone. “It’s Kyle. Just the sound of your voice almost made me come.”

  “Don’t.” She barked the order in a low voice that did nothing to diminish the strength behind her command.

  With effort, Kyle brought himself under control and was pleased with how steady he sounded when he answered. “I won’t. You haven’t given me permission to.”

  “That’s right, I haven’t.” Her tone was playful now. “What’s up?”

  “Aside from my cock, nothing much. I called because I miss you, and I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

  There was a stifled yawn over the phone. “Sorry, I’m beat. I guess that about says it all.”

  Kyle felt concerned and frustrated. He wanted to take her home, his home, and tuck her into bed so she could get the sleep she so obviously needed. “It’s almost five. When does your shift end?”

  “It doesn’t. Not when I’m tracking down a serial killer. I worked all weekend, too.”

  “You have to rest, Regan.”

  “I will later. Much later.”

  Not the words he wanted to hear, yet he was also buried in work and wouldn’t normally contemplate leaving so early in the day. An alternative thought came to him. “You have to eat, though, right?”

  “More or less,” she agreed.

  “How about meeting me for dinner?” When they parted in the wee hours of Saturday morning, he had spoken of dating, and he had meant it. This thing with Regan was more than sex. He wanted to get to know her.

  She groaned over the phone. Not a sexy sound, but a weary one. “I don’t have time. Sorry.”

  “I’m talking about an hour, Regan. You can spare an hour, can’t you?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Good, I know a great Thai restaurant right around the corner from your precinct. We can meet there so no one will know you’re taking a break for yourself,” he teased.

  “Okay,” she agreed, but he sensed reluctance.

  “What? Don’t you like Thai? We can go somewhere else. Whatever you want.” And he was serious. He would clog his arteries with a fast food burger and fries if it would please her.

  “Thai sounds fine. It’s just that I’ve never had it.”

  “Do you like Chinese?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then, you’ll love Thai.” He gave her the name and address of the restaurant. “I’ll see you at six.”

  ****

  Kyle checked his watch again before taking another sip of his water. Regan was almost ten minutes late, hardly something to worry about, yet he couldn’t stop fidgeting. It was nerves, plain and simple. The kind of nerves a young man has on a first date, which was odd because he was neither young nor on a first date. Unless one didn’t count having sex as any kind of date. He shifted his body to agitate his sensitive skin and immediately felt the confidence and calm the discomfort gave him. He was a submissive. If his mistress was making him wait, then he would wait patiently, because he was strong enough to handle anything she dished out.

  When he saw her walk inside the restaurant moments later, however, he knew she wasn’t playing any game. No one who looked that exhausted was up for anything more than a good meal and some down time. He intended to give her both.

  Spotting him, she gave a quick smile as she walked over. That one bit of affirmation sent a bolt of desire through his body. It also warmed him in a way that was purely emotional. He knew then he was infatuated with this woman, if not falling in love with her.

  “Hi,” she said, running a hand through unkempt hair. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “I don’t mind waiting for you.” He held out a chair for her. He could tell by her brief hesitation the move surprised her. It pleased him to know he was doing something for her that no other man had. Even better was the look on her face when he planted a quick kiss on her lips. It was a gesture of affection, not lust, and he grinned knowingly at her as he sat down.

  She gave him a look he suspected was one usually reserved for people she thought might be suspects before settling in her own chair. She took a look around. “This looks like a pretty popular place. I’m glad it’s not fancy, though, given how I’m wearing clothes that look like they came from a dumpster. I didn’t have time to do laundry this weekend.”

  He heard the insecurity underlying her comment and said simply, “You’re beautiful and sexy.”

  She narrowed her eyes and gave him that suspicious look again. This time, he kept his expression serious, because he meant what he said. “Thank you,” she finally replied and opened up her menu. “What would you recommend?”

  “Thai iced tea, for starters.” He followed her lead and switched away from personal comments. “As for food, I guess it depends on whether you like noodles.”

  She looked at him from over the menu. “Who doesn’t?”

  “Everyone who’s on a low carb diet.”

  Regan shrugged and scanned the menu again. “I never diet.”

  “Really?” He was truly surprised to hear her say it.

  “Why? Do I look like I need to diet?”

  It was the first time he had ever heard Regan say anything he considered typically female, and like a typical male, he back-peddled as fast as he could. “No. Absolutely not.”

  She grinned at his obvious discomfort. “Men are so easy to tease. I know you didn’t mean I was fat. I’m sure you’ve never met a woman who wasn’t on a diet, which is pathetic. I control my weight with exercise. So, back to my question. What do you recommend?”

  Kyle felt himself relax, really relax. Not merely because he hadn’t insulted her, but because he was enjoying her company. Other than Jazz, he couldn’t remember the last person who made him feel that way.

  Thinking of his dead friend reminded him that he was keeping a big secret from the woman across from him. Not wanting to spoil his good mood, he pushed the thought aside. He would deal with the consequences of his decision later. Feeding Regan was the most important thing on his list right now. “Do you like spicy food?”

  “Not so much,” she confessed.

  “May I order for you?”

  Closing her menu decisively, Regan replied, “Yes, I trust you.”

  There was a quick squeeze to his heart, and he held her gaze for a second before turning to the server who’d arrived. He ordered the tea, steamed shrimp shumai, Siam rolls, and pad Thai for them both. When they were alone again, he tried to think of something to ask her that didn’t involve the serial murders. He was on the verge of asking her a standard question about what she liked to do off duty when she blurted out what he hadn’t dared ask her.

  “The killer struck again Friday night, as you’ve undoubtedly heard on the news. I confirmed it when I arrived at the crime scene.” Her voice was quiet so as not to be heard by other diners. “It…” She took a sip from her water glass. “It was really bad. The poor bastard had his own sound-proofed dungeon and our girl took full advantage of the opportunity.”

  She was looking down, so she didn’t see his hand reaching toward her until he clasped hers. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  She still didn’t look up at him, and whatever response she was going to make, it was delayed by the arrival of their tea. Kyle was happy when she didn’t pull her hand away from his. Instead, she tried the tea with her other one.

  “This is great,” she exclaimed and treated him to a bright smile. “And I’m not going to think about the details of this latest murder, or it’ll put me off my dinner. I do need to ask, though, did you know David Foster?”

  Kyle caressed her fingers while he thought. Finally, he had to shake his head. “No, sorry. I didn’t know him, and I don’t remember Jazz ever mentioning him, either.”

  “Damn, too much to hope for, I guess.”

  The appetizers came, and he reluctantly let go of her so they could eat. He missed the contact but enjoyed the way she dug into her food. They talked about more pleasant things than murder. He found out that she liked to play
softball, and he resolved to find a coed team so they could play together. He told her more about his daughters and felt that strong emotional tug again when she said she’d like to have children of her own. It was a comfortable, if hurried meal, and while the sexual tension was there, it was simply a low humming in the background.

  At least, until Regan leaned over and remarked, “So, how does your ass feel?”

  Just like that, he got stiff. He wiggled his body to gauge how he felt. “Decidedly tender still.” When a concerned look crept across her face, he did a preemptive strike. “Don’t you dare start on the mea culpas. I like having a sore ass.”

  “Do you?” The skepticism in her voice was clear.

  “Yes.” He held her gaze for long seconds so she could see the honesty in his eyes.

  “Hmm.” Leaning back, she picked up a few stray noodles and sucked them into her mouth. She let the fork linger for a few seconds between her lips and sucked as she pulled them it again.

  Kyle closed his eyes to the sight. His body ached enough as it was. “You’re not making me any more comfortable.” He popped his eyes open again at the sound of her throaty laughter. Seeing her relaxed and well-fed was worth a case of blue balls.

  She waited until their dishes were cleared before she let out a long, slow breath. “Don’t move.” He cocked his head at her in confusion. “Not a muscle.”

  He did as she commanded, instinctively responding to the authority in her voice, although not understanding why she wanted him to do it. Then he felt toes sliding up against his bulging package and understood very well indeed. The pressure against his burgeoning hard-on was like an electric shock, yet no one around them would have ever guessed Regan was playing footsie with him, such was his restraint. He kept his gaze fixed on hers, daring her to do more.

  And she did. With lazy circles, her big toe teased his aching flesh, lightly at first, then with increasing firmness. His cock hardened, lengthened, and pressed back painfully against her foot. She used her sole to rub up and down from tip to balls, using a rhythm guaranteed to make him shoot his load.

  “Regan,” he hissed out a low warning.

  Still she kept up the stroking, a look of challenge and demand on her face. Kyle remained motionless as she had commanded, except his hands curled into fists and his breath became more labored. It wasn’t possible she was going to make him come right here in the restaurant, was it? Surely, she would stop and leave him in agony. The tension built, however, all the faster because of the day he had spent yearning for her. He could almost feel the cum pumping up his dick, desperate to erupt.

  He opened his mouth to give her one final warning to stop, and the climax hit him with shocking intensity. His eyes widened, and he forced his lips closed so that he wouldn’t cry out. His fists tightened so hard, he thought his fingers would crack with the strain. His body shook with fine tremors as he worked to keep still. It was like a sunburst going off inside him, the pleasure dispersing to the far corners of his body. And all the while, his gaze remained locked with Regan’s, her mouth formed into a small smile while she gently milked his orgasm.

  When she finally moved her foot from his crotch, the fog lifted from his mind. He slowly became aware of the noise of the restaurant, the people nearby. With a quick glance around, he tried to gauge whether anyone had known what they were doing. No one seemed to be staring at them or smirking. Apparently, he had managed to hide what had happened, and knowing he had, he felt another measure of pride.

  Taking a sip of water, he noticed his hands shook a bit. “That was a dirty trick,” he observed in a thick voice. He took another swallow to clear his throat and steady his breath.

  “I know,” Regan admitted with a sly smile. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Are you mad?”

  He gave her a well-satisfied smile. “With you? Never. It’s a good thing, though, that I’m wearing a suit coat to hide the evidence of your control over me.”

  The bill was placed in front of him before she could respond, and he paid it quickly, wanting to get out of the place and have a chance to show his appreciation for Regan’s attention. He did have to adjust his jacket to hide the wet spot on his pants, and the naughtiness of it all caused his cock to stir once more. Damn, if he wasn’t a goner where Regan was concerned.

  Escorting her out of the restaurant, he led her into a remote corner of the building. He used his body to press her up against the worn brick, knowing she complied because she wanted to, not because he could make her do anything.

  Bracing his arm above her head, he bowed his face over hers. “I’ve been thinking about you pretty much since you left my bed. Every time my ass stung or a muscle ached, I thought of you, and I wanted more. You saw how easy it was to make me hard with your touch and make me come. Christ, I’m getting stiff again already just having you near and talking about it.” He watched as her gaze slid down to where his pants bulged. “Please tell me when I can see you again.”

  She shifted her gaze to his, and there was a bright gleam there that told him she wanted him, too. Seeing it, his control broke, and he dropped his lips to hers. He wrapped her in his arms and slanted his mouth so that he could invade her with his tongue. The sweet and salty taste of peanuts met him as he assaulted her with quick, hard strokes. Only a couple of bites from her teeth made him slow down and draw back.

  He didn’t go far, however. He kept his forehead pressed against hers, panting from his effort and restraint. But he wasn’t the only one affected by the kiss. Regan breathed hard, too. Her hands clasped his waist with her fingers digging into his flesh. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, boy-o.”

  “I’m sorry, Mistress. I want you too much, and by my estimation, I’m being very restrained.”

  “Ah, but it’s my opinion that counts,” she corrected him.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed with a short laugh. “Please, Regan, when can I see you again?” He didn’t even care that he practically begged.

  She didn’t answer right away. She kept him waiting, wondering, until she finally put him out of his misery. “Tomorrow night I have something to do. Maybe we can meet Wednesday night, depending on how the investigation goes. Frankly,” she blew out a breath, “if we don’t get a lead soon, there won’t be anything for me to do about the case at that point.” She gave him a hard look. “I wonder, though, if either of us really appreciates what we’re getting into.”

  Kyle slowly moved his head back and forth. “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t. I do know that I want you, and I’m willing to do whatever you want in bed.”

  “Whatever?” she asked in a low voice. “I’m not so sure.”

  “I’m serious, Regan.”

  “Maybe it’s time for both of us to find out if we’re serious about this lifestyle.”

  “Try me,” he challenged.

  “Move away from me,” she ordered in a matter-of-fact tone.

  He complied instantly and was rewarded with soft, sweet kiss. “I’ll call you,” she promised and walked away.

  He felt suddenly unsteady, whether it was from the controlled orgasm in the restaurant or with new unspent need he couldn’t tell. He leaned against the building. What was he doing? What had he promised? What would she do?

  It didn’t matter. He pulled himself upright again. He could take whatever she did to him, and he would enjoy it. To pretend otherwise would be weak, and Kyle Ramsey was not a weak man.

  ****

  Tuesday night, Regan jogged up the front steps of the house that was a second home to her. The Gallagher sisters, Sheila and Maeve, had been as close as twins, and had made sure they lived within a block of each other after they both married cops and started their families. Daire had come first, but Regan had been only a few months behind, then came Ronan and Finn. Maeve hadn’t been able to have more kids, but the Callaghan boys had been more like Regan’s brothers than cousins. They had treated her like another brother as well, always including her in their plans and assuming that she was, like they were, going
to be a cop. Nobody had ever laughed at the idea or told her she couldn’t do something because she was a girl.

  Her Callaghan cousins meant the world to her and as tired as she was from long frustrating days in her investigation, not to mention her intense encounters with Kyle, she’d promised to come over and help with the side project they all tackled from time-to-time.

  Aunt Sheila and Uncle Rory had been murdered, gunned down on the streets of Boston, some eight years back, and so far no one had been charged with the crime, much less convicted of it. It was a cold case, and the only people who still investigated it were their sons and Regan.

  As much as she would have loved to go home and gets some sleep, or visit Kyle, Ronan had asked her to come over and look at some new evidence. She wasn’t going to let them down by begging off. Besides, there was no clear lead in the serial killings, and she was afraid she had jumped too fast into the deep end with Kyle. A night off from seeing him was a good thing. She couldn’t even keep her hands—or foot—off him in a restaurant, for Christ’s sake.

  She rang the bell and offered up a smile to Daire when he opened the door.

  He narrowed his eyes at her even as he stepped to one side. “You look exhausted.”

  “It’s nothing. I’ve caught a difficult case, is all.”

  “I heard. A serial killer?”

  “Looks like. The FBI has been called, and they’re a major pain in my ass. I spent most of the day going over the evidence we have with their profiler, who by the way, is convinced we’re looking for a man. Says women are too rare.”

  She shrugged off her bomber jacket and slung it over the back of the couch. When Aunt Sheila had been alive, she wouldn’t have tolerated it, but the boys were more casual about their home. Or rather Daire’s home. Finn and Ronan had moved out. Speaking of whom, they were both sitting at the old dining table. Pieces of paper and photographs were laid out all over the surface.

  “Virtually all serial killers are men,” Ronan stated without looking up from what he was staring at.

  “I am aware. This one is a woman. I’m sure of it.”

  “Want a beer?” Daire asked.