A flash of memory came to mind, of Ella handcuffed, naked and kneeling before him after having just bent her over the bed and fucking her brains out, begging him to let her suck his cock clean.
He closed his eyes and shoved that memory away despite the way his cock throbbed again.
He returned to the bedroom, Gabe’s gaze following as he came back and grabbed her legs, pulling her farther down the bed. Then he straddled her, his cock inches from her lips. “Start asking, sweetheart.”
“Please let me suck your cock, Sir.” Her mouth opened wide.
Daaammnn… He felt his balls draw up tight, nearly shooting his load right then. Pre-cum pearled at the slit, threatening to drip onto her chin. He braced himself against the headboard and lowered the tip of his cock just to where she could reach it if she pursed her lips. The tip of her tongue swiped along the slit, eagerly trying to get more of him into her mouth.
“Such a good girl,” he whispered.
* * * *
Gabe felt nearly frantic with need. She’d worried that maybe she would panic if he restrained her, but knowing he’d immediately stop and trusting him, it completely erased all those fears. If anything, knowing he would do what he wanted to her, and knowing she’d enjoy it, had only served to amp up her desire even more.
He wouldn’t let her suck his entire cock into her mouth, even when she tried lifting her head to reach. Then he grabbed her ponytail and slid her hair under his knee, pinning her that way and keeping her head immobile, now unable to do anything but lie there and wait on him to make his move.
She looked up in the dim light to find him smiling down at her, now understanding that smile he had would be her total undoing every damn time.
“You do want to suck my cock, don’t you?” he asked.
She nodded, mouth still open, wanting it more than anything at that moment. Maybe even more than breathing.
He chuckled.
Yep, definitely more than breathing.
He eased his cock between her lips, his moan echoing hers as she finally was able to close her lips around the head. She wanted to deep-throat him, totally engulf him, and couldn’t.
She loved it. Loved him taking control, loved the slow-burning buzz deep in her soul that cleared away all other thoughts, everything else but him, in that moment.
With her tongue she swiped and licked at every little bit of his cock he’d let her reach.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that.” The husky tone of his voice wound tendrils of need around her heart. She wanted him to keep talking like that, sounding like that.
Being like that.
A little more, a little deeper. She traced the ridge around the head, flicked her tongue over his glans, gently sucked and savored the salty tang of his pre-cum. She longed to suck him dry, coax every last drop out of him, drain him.
Her pussy throbbed, reminded of what it felt like just a few minutes earlier to have this same cock buried deep inside her, and wanting it again.
A little deeper, and just as slowly, she couldn’t understand how he could be holding back.
He just came twice. Duh.
But she’d just come…well, more than twice, but really?
Had she done that to him?
Another gleeful mental tweak of her clit as that thought sent more waves of cramping need spreading through her cunt.
He began thrusting, making her moan that finally he was going to use her, let her do what she’d been longing to do for what felt like forever. It startled her to realize it’d been less than half an hour since he’d reamed her the first time.
Holy crap!
It was going to be a long weekend at this rate.
She couldn’t wait.
Deeper with every thrust, to the back of her tongue, toward her throat, and she realized he was testing her, seeing how deep he could go without gagging her.
She appreciated the courtesy, but with her mouth full of his cock she couldn’t easily tell him she was fine with him gagging her just a little. Anything to get more of his cock inside her.
Faster, more confident now, it frustrated her that she couldn’t bob her head and help, or use her hands.
Then he fell still, deep, the length of his cock along her tongue and the curly nest of hair at the root of his shaft brushing her chin.
“Such a good girl,” he cooed.
Her cunt clenched, desperate for a hard fucking. Whining, she stroked the underside of his cock with her tongue as much as she could, trying to make him move, dammit, anything so she could get some relief from the ache making her hornier than she’d ever been in her entire life.
“Aww, someone’s horny,” he said.
She whined again.
Laughing, he sat up and pulled out, startling her. But before she could complain, he’d turned around, his leg once again pinning her hair to the bed, and the head of his cock brushing against her lips.
Automatically they parted, her happy sigh muffled as his cock slid deep into her mouth again.
Then his weight pressed on top of her, completely pinning her.
His hands pushed her thighs open. “Legs spread,” he said, tone firm.
She didn’t hesitate.
“Good girl.” She felt the breath from his words on her clit, and she had less than a second to regret she hadn’t done more than trim down there that morning when his lips wrapped around her clit.
She moaned around his cock, earning her a moan from him in return. He swiped his tongue up and down her clit, flicking it, and triggering another orgasm. This time she screamed around his cock, relief to finally be coming, forgetting for just a moment about sucking him until he rocked his hips.
“Get busy, sweetheart,” he said, the vibration rolling through her clit. “I won’t stop until you get me off.”
She tried. She really did. But then he played dirty and sucked on her clit and made her come again. And again.
And again.
She closed her eyes and felt herself sailing off into what had to be subspace. Nothing existed except her mouth wrapped around the silky, hot shaft between her lips, and his mouth working her clit into yet another orgasm. It felt like the orgasms started rolling together, one long, tingling, fiery sensation the likes of which she’d never thought she could feel before, much less actually be feeling at that moment.
The fucking books were right!
That was the last coherent thought she had as she lost her mind. At least, that was what it felt like. Insanity had to be something like that.
She settled into a rhythm of sucking and slurping and licking at his cock in between moaning around it when he’d make her come again. Apparently what he was doing to her was helping him hold back. His sac dangled over her nose, sometimes brushing against her face as he would take a few strokes into her mouth. She wished she could just bury her face between his legs and explore every square inch of him there, lick and suck his balls into her mouth, hell, anything he wanted.
Everything he wanted.
He slid two fingers into her wet, well-fucked cunt, and slowly started finger-fucking her. She sucked harder on his cock, now realizing how absolutely serious he was about keeping her pinned to the bed until she made him come.
Frankly, she wasn’t sure she could take it. In the space of less than an hour, she’d had more orgasms than she had in several years. She didn’t know if she’d survive much more.
His fingers found someplace deep inside her and pressed, persistent.
It felt like her mind unhinged. Her back arched despite his weight on her. The walls of her pussy clamped down on his fingers as the strongest orgasm she’d ever felt in her entire life swept through her.
He lifted his head. “Fuck my hand, sweetheart.” He buried his face between her legs again.
She did her best, sucking and rocking her hips, the explosion ricocheting through her body, from her clit to her brain to her toes and back again. It went on and on, and she was just about to consider trying to get his atte
ntion to code from how intense it felt when his cock grew harder, hotter, and she knew he was close.
Redoubling her efforts, she let him fuck her mouth, faster, harder, until he let out that familiar moan she was quickly coming to love, and jet after jet of hot cum filled her mouth. Then he kissed the inside of her thighs and rested his head against her leg for a moment, his breath blowing across her flesh as he recovered. In her mouth, his cock began to soften.
When she tried sucking on it again, he laughed and sat up, making her relinquish it. “No, sweetheart. I’m too sensitive right now. I need to recover.”
He turned around, not releasing her from the handcuffs, and stretched out next to her on the bed. Pulling her to him, he kissed her, deep and slow. She realized she’d never tasted herself on a lover’s lips before, not that she’d had many of those to begin with. But he seemed perfectly comfortable and at ease with it.
Cradling her cheek in his palm, he looked down into her eyes. “Good?”
Her eyes fell closed. Nodding, she nestled her face against his chest.
The tender press of his lips against her forehead nearly drove her to tears. Good tears.
Somehow, she held them back. She still soared, her brain floating, mind…gone. Just gone.
She didn’t want it to come back anytime soon, and tears might make him want to talk.
All she wanted to do in that moment was absorb the sensations.
Absorb him.
He chuckled again, holding her close. “Let’s rest for a few minutes before I go after you again. I want to get at least a few more out of you before dinner.”
She shivered when she realized he was absolutely serious.
Outside, the wind picked up again, howling. Somewhere not too far away, another rumble of thunder rolled through the atmosphere.
And she realized maybe she had just found something—someone—she couldn’t simply walk away from.
Didn’t want to walk away from.
Maybe ever.
Chapter Twenty-One
Work that following week was a sweet kind of torture for Gabe. Fortunately, she didn’t have to directly work with Bill every day, because she wasn’t sure she had enough pairs of underwear to handle how frequently she’d have to change them.
Just the thought of what he’d done to her, what he could do to her, made her instantly wet.
No one had ever had that effect on her before.
No, he didn’t deliberately try to bait or tease her when they were working. He was as professional and dedicated to his work as she was.
Just the thought of him, what he could and had done to her, what he might do to her, was enough to trigger responses in her body that were apparently far beyond her control.
This was not a problem she was used to having.
They were supposed to get together on Friday when he called her that afternoon. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I won’t make it up there tonight. Caught a case.”
From the sound of his voice, she knew it was serious. “Bad?”
His resigned sigh echoed through the line. “Domestic. Murder-suicide.”
Her heart chilled. “Oh, no. Kids?”
“Yeah.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Needless to say, it’ll be a few hours before I can even think of getting out of here.”
She had an idea. “Let me pick us up dinner from Marelli’s. I’ll come down, and you can give me the high sign when it’s okay to order dinner.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I’m not feeling very dominant tonight, sweetheart.”
“I know. I didn’t mean that.”
He gave her two addresses and time to write them down. “The first is home. The second is where I’m at right now. Tell one of the deputies to come in and get me. I’ll give you my key and alarm code. If I’m out of here before you get here, I’ll call you and let you know.”
She hadn’t been to his house yet. That he was trusting her with his key this soon she knew meant he really had faith in her.
“Okay.”
She quickly gathered her work laptop and supplies to crochet, along with a couple of things in case she spent the night. She knew he could be done in two hours or ten, depending on what had happened.
And she was determined to not let him be alone tonight, even if it was just to let him sit there and be quiet while he processed what he’d seen.
She knew that feeling well.
When she drove down the street toward the crime scene, in what appeared to be an otherwise quiet residential neighborhood, she had to park on the street three houses down. Crowds of people stood outside the yellow crime scene tape, and two different news crew vans had set up outside the perimeter.
She grabbed her badge holder and put on her professional face as she headed toward the line and wove her way through people. A uniformed deputy on the other side was about to stop her when he saw her badge.
“I’m here for Detective Thomas,” she said in her cop voice.
He nodded and pointed toward another deputy running scene control at the front door.
She cringed over the ambulance and two medical examiner’s vans parked in the driveway and in front of the house.
That was never good a good sign.
She showed her badge to the deputy at the front door. “I don’t need inside. Detective Thomas asked me to stop by. Said to ask someone to get him.”
He nodded and called inside to someone else. Bill appeared at the front door a moment later. When he stepped outside, he pulled off the protective paper booties covering his shoes and the latex gloves from his hands and tossed them into a temporary garbage can set up in front of the house by the crime scene techs. Motioning her to follow him, he walked over to the driveway where they could stand behind one of the ME’s vans and not be seen by either news crew.
He looked somber, drawn, haggard. If it wasn’t for everyone around she would pull him into her arms and hug him.
He withdrew a set of keys from his pocket and quickly pulled one off, handing it to her. Then he used his personal phone to text her a four-digit code. “Alarm panel is right inside the front door. After you punch in the code, hit the off button. Make yourself at home, whatever you want to do is fine.”
“Okay.” She waited until he met her gaze. “If I don’t hear from you by seven, I’ll go get our food and I’ll heat yours up for you when you get home.”
He nodded.
She knew whatever happened inside that house in that otherwise quiet neighborhood had to be even worse than she imagined. He looked haunted, exhausted.
Reaching out, she touched his arm. “We can be just Bill and Gabe tonight, if that’s what you need.”
He seemed to ponder it for a moment. “I’m not sure what I’m going to need, except I’m not too stubborn to admit I know I’m going to welcome having you with me tonight. I know you’ll understand.”
She nodded and watched as he turned and headed back toward the house, getting a fresh pair of booties and gloves from the deputy at the door.
Tightly clutching the key in her hand, she returned to her car.
He lived in another quiet neighborhood in eastern Port Charlotte. Not the newest or fanciest, but she didn’t count a single house with bars on the windows within a mile of his address.
His yard wasn’t elaborately landscaped, but it was well kept, the grass weed-free and recently mowed.
Suppressing her nerves, she unlocked the front door and quickly disarmed the alarm, taking a moment to find the hallway light switch.
The house was neat, tidy. Lived in, but not as stark and bare as her own condo.
On the entry wall hung several pictures, a few of Bill and a woman. From the looks of them, they were several years old.
His wife?
She felt a little uncomfortable studying them without Bill there to provide narration. Turning back to the front door, she brought her things in and locked the door, finding the living room where she set her stuff on
the couch.
Three bedrooms, two baths. One of the bedrooms was a home office and workout room, with a treadmill and desk. The other a guest bedroom. The master bedroom was obviously where he spent a lot of time, not messy, but not feeling unused like the guest room.
On the wall hung a wedding picture. Yes, the woman in the other pictures had to be Ella. In this one, they both looked younger still, Bill smiling down at her, her beaming face glowing back at him.
Can I make him that happy?
She hoped she could.
She wanted to.
It was after nine when he returned home. He headed straight for the shower. She first debated leaving him alone, then decided not to. Stripping, she stepped in with him.
He said nothing. But he turned to her, pulled her into his arms, and let out a ragged sigh.
She rested her head against his chest as he held her, more tightly still, as if clutching onto her like a life preserver in a stormy sea.
In a way, she guessed maybe he was.
It took him several minutes to speak. When he did, his voice sounded soft, full of pain. “This is why I know I don’t want kids now. I’m too old for them anyway. And bad things can happen to them.”
“How many?”
“Three. And his ex-wife, and her mother and father.”
She didn’t have a response, so she just held him even more tightly.
It took another few minutes for him to speak again. “I don’t know how you do what you do. You see horrible stuff all the time. I know this is my job, but it never makes it easier. You are a tougher woman than I am.” He let out a ragged laugh. “You know what I mean.”
She looked up at him, found him staring down at her. “We’re all tough in the ways we need to be.”
He cupped her cheek in his hand and leaned in, kissing her. It took on a sudden, frantic feel, his breath coming faster, harder as his lips bruised hers.
She sensed what he needed. Something she herself knew had been missing from her life too many damn nights.
Broken Toy Page 16
