Trent Evans

by What She's Looking For

  He growled as he took up a punishing rhythm, his hips shaking her body with each plunge, her whimper accompanying each retreat. The scent of her sex filled the room, and Parker’s lust fired higher as he stared down at her gorgeous round ass, his marks swelling upon its curves, the soreness of her ass, the knowledge that he’d given her that pain turning him on even more. She’d know for the next few days who owned her, who made sure she was never let off.

  He’d make her show him her marks tomorrow, and she’d bend for him, knowing he’d see that her pussy was already wet for him, wet at the thought of how sore he’d made her ass. He knew she’d look forward to it again, watching the marks fade day by day, anticipating when they’d be renewed in another storm of pain and lust and submission. He knew she needed that like she needed to breathe — it was an integral part of her make-up. Parker was the night to her day, the darkness to her light. She needed to feel that pain, that surrender, as much as he needed to give her that pain, as much as he needed to bend her to his will.

  None of it would make any sense to an outsider, but to Parker and this singular woman, subject only to him, the one-way nature of their relationship was as perfect as the clear morning sun. It didn’t need to make sense to anyone else, this secret world that only they shared.

  Driving into her even more urgently, she cried out, begging him, pleading for him to take her harder, to make it hurt. He obliged her, her groans as he sounded the deepest depths of her cunt, music to his ears. He held out as long as he could, but eventually the strength of his desire could not be denied, the velvet clutch of her pussy too much to resist.

  “Ashley, fuck! You’re mine. You’ll never—” he grit his teeth, his hands spanking her burning bottom to the music of her pained cries, fingers clasping her hips in a brutal grip, the boiling pleasure from behind his testicles overwhelming him “—leave me … again.”

  Then he went over, his seed pouring forth, and never before had he felt more like a conqueror, like a lost and lonely hunter who’d finally brought down that most elusive of prey.

  Love.

  Crouching over her, his breath coming hard, he rested, enjoying the tactile pleasure of skin on skin, feeling her trembling like a low current passing through her body. He liked that she stayed quiet, still, waiting for him to give her leave. They’d never spoken of that specifically, but somehow she just knew, could sense that he expected it, enjoyed it as a subtle signal of her subjugation, of her obedience.

  Her panting as he slipped from her sensitized pussy made him smile and he pressed little kisses to the crown of her head, inhaling the fragrance of her shampoo, the clean scent of her sweat. “You’re a good girl.”

  She looked back at him, her eyes tear bright, her dark brows knit together, lips trembling. “Parker, can I—”

  “Just lay there a minute,” he said with a grin, clasping her nape in his hand. “I want to clean you up myself. Don’t move.”

  “Sir, please. I don’t—” her eyes met his, and she wiped a tear from her cheek, smiling “—I don’t want to clean it up. I want you. Part of you inside me. Please leave it.”

  Then he reached out for her, and Ashley scrambled into his arms, her breasts swinging as she moved. He sat back on the couch, their naked bodies entwined, and looked out the picture window at the silent winter landscape, its sparse, cold beauty encouraging their silence.

  Parker’s thoughts drifted as he stroked the hair away from her sweaty temple, her head laid against his chest. His hand cupped the weight of one of Ashley’s heavy breasts, the nipple almost impossibly hard against his fingers. He imagined what her breasts would look like when she was swollen with their baby, how they’d leak with her milk as he fucked her, even late into the pregnancy. He knew she’d be one of those women who glowed when pregnant, would be enhanced by the wonder and excitement of growing that new life within her belly.

  Calm down, Park. You’re getting way the fuck ahead of yourself here. Where is this coming from?

  But part of him knew. It really would be that way, someday — if he could make it work. If she could accept him for who he was, what he’d become. Then he felt her shift against his body, and he glanced down to see her staring up at him.

  “I can’t move in with you, Parker.”

  He frowned at her, then looked out that window again.

  “Not yet, anyway. This thing with Terry … it has to get resolved. Then, maybe ….” She pressed a kiss to his chest, the sensation sending a frisson straight to his cock, making it stir against her ass.

  “He’s not getting within a mile of you, my dear.” Parker squeezed her tighter. “If he does, if he shows up here … he’s going to be in a world of hurt.”

  “He’s a cop, Parker.”

  So that was it, then. He’d wondered why she seemed hung up on him still. A cop.

  He grinned at her. “Cops don’t matter to me.”

  Ashley’s eyebrow raised. “Above the law, Sir?”

  “Something like that.” Parker kissed her hair against her temple, and squeezed her breast firmly. “Take care that mouth of yours doesn’t get that sore ass in any more trouble.”

  She muffled playful grumbles against his chest and he smiled again at her mood, light and playful, so unlike what she’d been the last few months.

  “Parker, can I ask you something?”

  “No, I haven’t read 50 Shades and I never will.”

  Ashley giggled against his chest, tweaking one of his nipples. He smacked her breast playfully, then took up her nipple, rolling it between finger and thumb.

  She stilled immediately, responding to the subtle admonition in the gesture. “Seriously, will you tell me what it is that you do? You aren’t a serial killer are you? ‘Cause that might put a serious crimp in the idea of moving in.”

  He chuckled, stroking the satin flesh of her naked thigh. “Nope, no bodies in the trunk. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Thank god,” she whispered. “Though it would be just like a serial killer to lull me into a false sense of security—”

  “Check.”

  “—and charm my pants off.”

  “Check, number two.” He waggled an eyebrow at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He caught it with his fingers, squeezing it before letting it go. “I’ve got you right where I want you.”

  Ashley’s body stirred against him, the pleasing weight of her breasts pressed to him, her murmur almost a feline purr. “Yes, you sure do, big scary Sir.”

  His hand pressed to her thigh, stilling her. “Watch it, bad girl. If I get hard again, it might not be that pussy that gets fucked next.”

  Peering up at him, her mischievous grin made him want to devour her. “I thought it was Drake who likes asses?”

  “He’s not the only one who likes asses. Keep it up and you’re going to find out the hard way.”

  She burrowed her face against his chest again, groaning. “Okay, okay. But answer me one thing, Mr. Mysterious.”

  “Shoot.” He was liking this side of her. Her happiness was contagious, and it filled him like sunshine lighting a dark room.

  “What’s behind the locked door in your hallway?”

  Not prepared for that question, he tipped her up, until she sat upright on his lap. Her head twisted back, her lips in a surprised O, her brow furrowed. “I’m — I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, it’s okay, Ashley.” It was probably time anyway. “Do you really want to know?”

  She nodded, her jaw firming, her hands reaching for one of his.

  “Then take that red little ass of yours back to the bedroom and look in the bottom drawer of the dresser.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “The bottom … drawer?”

  Parker had expressly forbidden her from ever opening that drawer, but never told her why.

  “Yes, I’m going to pour us some coffee. When I come back out here, I want you to bring back what you find in that drawer.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Um, so what’s the
occasion?” Ashley tipped her head, peeking up at Parker. He stood with his arms crossed, the muscles of his forearms in stark relief. So much power there, the kind that made her want to hit her knees and do whatever she was told. She’d once been repulsed by such thoughts, thinking they were a betrayal of her sex. Now she simply enjoyed them for what they were.

  An acknowledgment of the woman she was.

  Parker lifted a finger from his arm. “Put it on. All of it.”

  There was more chain there than she knew what the hell to do with, but somehow she’d managed. A link attached here, a belt tightened there, and soon enough she was weighed down with so much steel she doubted she could even break into a trot.

  Parker cinched the waist belt a notch tighter, making her gasp. Then with a glint in his eye he watched her face as he cinched it one notch more.

  The leather belt, a heavy, broad length of polished rawhide, at first felt like one of those goofy waist belts powerlifters use — the ones that looked like they were there to simply hold in their guts. She snorted to herself at that — this one had a decidedly different purpose.

  A heavy brushed silver ring was embedded in the front of it, through which two stout chains ran. The chains terminated at wrist cuffs at the top and thick ankle cuffs at the bottom.

  “Try to raise your arms.”

  She frowned at him.

  “Go on. Do it.”

  The chains grew taut before she could raise her hands above the level of her navel. If she hoped to walk she effectively had to keep her hands clasped together in front of the belt, and even then it didn’t afford her much slack.

  His warm smile, an expression of pure pleasure, shouldn’t have sent her heart beating and her nipples standing. But it did.

  “Here.” He stepped back around the kitchen door a moment, returning with a length of black leather swinging from his hand. “You need this too.”

  The collar was thicker than she’d imagined most of them being, forcing her to keep her chin raised a bit. The leather felt snug around her neck, almost too snug, its pressure on her windpipe insistent, but tolerable. When he’d affixed it, he stood back from her, looking down upon her flushing face, his eyes bright with lust. “There, that’s better don’t you think, girl?”

  She glanced down to his groin to see his cock already standing once more, the sight making her mouth water. It had been too long since she’d had him in her mouth, the thought of tasting her own essence on his skin equal parts mortifying and arousing.

  “Come on, bad girl.” Parker hooked a finger through the ring of her belt, and chucked her under a breast with a wink.

  He took a step, then turned back to her, eyebrows lifted. “Almost forgot. Wait here.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him, scrunching her face into a dour frown.

  Parker sauntered down the hall, wagging his finger at her, looking back over his shoulder. “Watch it.”

  Jiggling the chain against the central ring, she tried not to think about how helpless she really was now. It wasn’t the first time he’d bound her, but it was the first time he’d had her chained up like a common criminal awaiting arraignment. All that was missing was the orange jumpsuit with the block letters “OFFENDER” emblazoned across the back. Then again, the idea of being Parker’s prisoner wasn’t exactly horrifying to her.

  Parker’s form appeared before her, and he crouched down, his fingers tugging on one of her ankle cuffs. As he bent, she took in the broad, muscled expanse of his naked upper back, noting for the first time the pattern of pale marks clustered below one of his shoulder blades.

  “Where did you get those, Sir?”

  He stilled for a moment, but didn’t answer, instead continuing the tugging on one ankle cuff and then the other. Then he’d finished, standing and gazing down at her, placing a caressing palm against her cheek. She kissed the heel of his hand, loving the warmth of his flesh, the gentleness of his touch.

  “All ready?”

  Ashley nodded, not really sure what she was agreeing to. If she’d get a chance to figure out the cypher of Parker, she thought she’d be willing to do nearly anything. Yes, mystery was alluring, but if she was going to put herself in his hands, live out her darkest fantasies under his rule, then she’d be damned if she’d do it before she knew who the fuck this guy really was!

  Trying to follow him, she nearly toppled over, peering down at feet that didn’t seem to want to move. Then she saw it, her mouth dropping open.

  A hobble.

  He’d affixed a stout leather strap from cuff to cuff, linking her ankles together with less than a foot of play between them.

  “Why?” She peered up under her eyelashes, feeling the heat at her cheeks.

  Parker shrugged. “I like it that way. Wouldn’t want you running off on me.” He winked at her, stepping closer and curling his finger through the ring at her belt once more. “Besides, that hobble will make those tits of yours bounce as you walk. What’s not to like about that?”

  Leading her down the hallway with just his finger, she felt the truth of his words, the embarrassing sway of her breasts proving him prescient. Bound as she was, she couldn’t stay their wobbling with anything other than trying to contain them by squeezing together her upper arms. It was mostly futile though, and she had little doubt he enjoyed her discomfiture.

  He stopped at the locked door in the hallway. The saliva in Ashley’s mouth dried, and she watched his fingers move in what seemed to be slow motion.

  Calm down, idiot. He’s probably got some sort of dungeon back there. Maybe just a spanking bench or something. Chillax.

  The heavy bolt popped from the lock, and he yanked it out of the steel hasp, swinging it clear, the door opening into darkness. A staircase led down. The air felt close, but she wasn’t assailed with the strong smell of leather like she’d expected, nor did she find herself noting the scent of candles waiting to drip their molten pain upon her cringing flesh.

  She looked back at him. “How am I going down those with this thing hobbling my feet?”

  “You’ll need to figure that out, won’t you?”

  There wasn’t enough length in the hobble to let her lower her feet far enough, which left one option.

  “Can you at lease hold my arm?” She peered up at him, the blushing furious on her face. “Please?”

  “With pleasure.” His hand wrapped around her bare upper arm. “Shall we?”

  She had to jump down each individual step, the wood creaking with each new riser. Her breasts bounded upon her chest, and though she didn’t think Parker could really see them swing, she still blushed scarlet. Sometimes curiosity didn’t kill the cat – but mortification wasn’t much better.

  Finally they reached the bottom of the stairs, in near pitch black, the air noticeably cooler on her bare skin.

  “There, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Parker flicked the light on, and inside she finally glimpsed that forbidden room that had so intrigued her from day one.

  She frowned, and looked up at Parker. “Seriously?”

  It was an office. A simple, somewhat unkempt one, but an office nonetheless.

  With a nod, he chuckled, raising his hand. “Go on in. Have a look — but don’t touch anything.”

  Shuffling in as fast as her chains allowed, she took in what she could, trying not to be obvious in her prying. What she really wanted was a few hours to pore through all the papers and journals stacked haphazardly on the shelves, the large, darkened monitor calling to her inner sleuth.

  More like Snoopy McSnooperson.

  “Kneel there, girl.” Parker’s long finger pointed to a worn leather ottoman set off to one side of the desk.

  “Kneel?”

  “Did you suddenly decide you don’t want to obey instructions?” He took hold of a fistful of her hair, a dark cloud passing across his features. “Do what you’re told, or should I have you bend over it instead?”

  Ashley gulped, feeling her buttocks tingle. As sore as they still were, she had no
intention of doing anything for the next year or so that would get her ass spanked. No fucking way.

  “Sorry, Sir.” She dropped her gaze and tried to put one knee on the leather. The hobble prevented it though, and, with Parker’s fist still clenched in her locks, he simply bade her place her knees on the edge and scoot herself onto it, the wild swinging of her breasts embarrassing her anew. With a quick shake of her head he released her hair and she dropped her eyes, his displeasure with her somehow even worse than the throb of her well-whipped bottom.

  He sat in his chair and turned on the monitor, the tap of fingers at the keys causing her to peek at him through the fringe of her hair. Then she saw it.

  The picture.

  Dropping her gaze again, afraid he might see her watching him, she thought of who it might be. Chancing a look again at the picture atop the credenza of his desk, she got a better look. A beautiful woman, hair as dark as her eyes, a look of wistfulness in their depths. She’d never seen the woman before.

  A former girlfriend? A current girlfriend? She gulped down bile at the possibility. A wife?

  Her chains jingled as her hands yanked at her bonds, and he turned to her, his hand raising her chin. “What is it? I know you’ve got questions, so you might as well spill it.”

  “Why this?” She pulled at the chains once more, peevishly. Even though being bound for him made her pussy drip, she wasn’t about to make it that easy for him. The last thing she needed to do was to encourage him to truss her up like a Thanksgiving turkey whenever the mood struck him.

  Isn’t that the point of all this? You want him to do whatever he wants to you, whenever he wants. Don’t you?

  Parker sat back in his chair, looking at her down his nose, his eyes narrowed. “This space is for me only. I let you in here because I knew your curiosity was killing you. But the price for admission, is your freedom. You’ll never have a free moment in this room, Ashley. This room and one other.”

  Her eyes snapped up to his. “What other?”

  Parker’s smile made the lines around his eyes deepen. “We’ll get to that later. What else, nosy girl?”