In the Bedroom with the Rope: Tied in Knots

by Jenna McCormick

  In the Bedroom with the Rope

  Jenna McCormick

  Published by Captiva Heart

  A Sanibel Moon Imprint

  Copyright 2013 Jenna McCormick

  Cover image purchased from dreamstime.com

  Cover designed by Jennifer L. Hart

  All rights reserved.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at jenna@authorjennamac.com.

  All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

  http://www.sanibelmoon.com

  In the Bedroom with the Rope

  Jenna McCormick

  Part 1: Tied in Knots

  Chapter One

  Three days ago, Samantha had never seen a man masturbate. Though technically, she’d watched Alan, her ex-boyfriend, stroke himself right before they had sex, or the men in his porn videos show off their tools for the camera. But she’d never witnessed the kind of erotic show that had captured her attention.

  The early morning desert air evaporated the sweat from her skin as she stood there, a jogger turned Peeping Tom. Her new neighbor hadn’t bothered to close his blinds again, almost as though he wanted her to witness his self-pleasuring. His bedroom appeared empty, save for the king-sized bed that supported his large body in a sensual dance. The common term was jerk-off, but it was too crude a phrase to apply to the way he thumbed the slit of his cock, eased the escaped fluid down over the head and gripped the fleshy rod as thick as her wrist.

  From her vantage point on the nature trail that wound through their development, Sam couldn’t see his face, just the hard planes and angles of his torso. The cream colored sheet had been tossed aside, just like yesterday, and the day before. No clothes in sight, not even a pair of boxer shorts. Did he sleep naked? The thought made her shiver. His feet were poised flat on the mattress, knees bent up. His cock reached to his naval, seeming to preen under his easy strokes.

  After two days of observing she knew his rhythm, and subconsciously her hips rocked as that tanned hand wrapped around his girth and gripped the flesh in one pull down. Her long dormant sex creamed to life, her nipples pebbled from more than just the chilly air as his hips rose up, shoving his dick through the tight grip of those masculine fingers, then lowering on his upstroke. More fluid beaded and he captured it with his thumb, massaging it into the purple crown. She licked her lips, craving a taste.

  His grip tightened and one had disappeared between his legs. Images assailed her. Was he cupping his balls? Or maybe teasing his perineum. Hell, for all she knew he was fingering his own ass. Whatever he did, it excited him into picking up his pace. Her clit throbbed and she was tempted to rub the small bit of flesh, right there in the open.

  She should go. Or at least look around and see if anyone saw her standing there, staring into the man’s bedroom like a fricking pervert. But her eyes were glued to the sexual display, just like they had been yesterday and the day before that. This was so wrong, she didn’t even know his name, wouldn’t recognize him if she passed by him fully clothed on the street. That hadn’t stopped her from obsessing about him though, a welcome distraction from the worries of her own life.

  As the sun gained altitude, the mystery man worked his body, faster, harder. She craved more information. What kind of expression was on his face? What did he think about? Did he have a lover whose image he fixed in his mind while pleasuring his greedy body?

  That thought stopped her short. What would she do if she were his lover and rolled over that morning to find him in the throes of ecstasy? She’d love to swirl her tongue over the leaking crown, trace the pulsing vein before sucking that thick shaft between her lips. Would he cry out in pleasure? Grip her hair in his hands to hold her steady while he fucked her mouth? Or maybe he’d turn her around until she straddled his face, so he could tongue her saturated sex to orgasm.

  Sam’s channel seized up tight, achingly empty, just as milky jets spurted across his chest and belly. Her mouth fell open as his body arched up in sweet culmination.

  She’d never been more turned on in her life. As she stood there, watching his big body relax, her own tension coiled tighter. His hand came up, reaching for something out of her view and she scurried off before he sat up and caught her in the act. A niggling sense of guilt hissed that she should tell him she could see him. It was rude to invade his privacy this way. What if someone else saw? The thought left an uncomfortably tight feeling in her chest.

  Letting herself in through the back gate, Sam wrestled with her conscience. How embarrassing to tell a man she’d never spoken to that she’d seen him masturbate.

  Her face felt hot, flushed and not just from her two mile jog. Removing the pepper spray, stun gun and emergency whistle from her track pants, she stowed them back into her purse. Checking the doors to make sure they were all locked, she considered her options. Maybe an anonymous note was the way to go. Please shut your blinds. Thing was, she didn’t want him to close his blinds because then she wouldn’t have the welcome distraction of his beautiful body arched in release to savor like a delicate pastry for her libido.

  Stripping out of her wind pants and tank top, she headed for the shower. He hadn’t signed up to be her entertainment. How would she like to be caught in the act by a stranger? As the warm spray hissed from the detachable showerhead, she made up her mind. She had to tell him. It was wrong not to, but was she brave enough to knock on his door and just speak her piece? He was probably in his own shower right now, washing the evidence of his release down the drain.

  Her nipples pebbled as she imagined him sharing the hot water with her. Her mind’s eye conjured his semen-covered torso, and those hands skimming over her wet curves. In her fantasy he would like what he saw, didn’t care about the burn scars that covered her legs. He would worship her bare body with his fingers, his mouth.

  Groaning she hefted her breasts, thumbing the nipples, imagined the wet friction came from his lips and tongue. Those blunt fingers would delve into her saturated folds, preparing her body to take his thick cock.

  “Sam, I want you,” he’d whisper, guiding her foot to the edge of the tub and poising his erection at her opening. She’d look into his eyes, see the love there, real honest caring.

  Her head thunked back in the wall as the desire trickled down the drain. Damn it, this was so ridiculous. She had no idea what the man even looked like and she pretended he loved her? If life experience had taught her one brutal truth , it was Samantha Jacobs wouldn’t know sincere emotion if it bit her on the ass.

  She shut the water off and had just started drying when the phone rang. Swathing herself in a towel she hurried to the bedroom and fumbled the portable. “Hello?”

  “Hey baby, you miss me?” The deep voice slithered from the unit, chilling her to the core.

  Click. Sam disconnected the call and replaced the receiver on the base unit with a trembling hand. Damn it, how had Alan found her number? She shivered. He wasn’t supposed to be able to contact her. Yet someone in the prison kept slipping him a cell phone along with her updated information. No one had been able to stop him and the chilling reality consumed her. Incarceration only slowed him down. Eventually, he would kill her.

  All the sexual heat was pushed ou
t of her system by the realistic cold front. Tears filled her eyes but she ruthlessly scrubbed them away. She would not be his victim anymore, damn it.

  He could play his head games all day long but he only won if she cowered in a corner, and didn’t leave the house. That wasn’t an option, not for her. Taking precautions was one thing, but she wasn’t about to let Allen terrorize her or control her life for another second. She had her bar with Stella and she was going to live her life to the fullest.

  Dressing in jeans and a red tank top, she marched downstairs and peered at the house across the street. Although tempting, writing the note would be cowardly. Sliding her feet into sandals and grabbing her keys and purse, she squared her shoulders and crossed the street.

  ****

  “Damn it, what the hell is she doing?” Trevor Harrison swiveled away from his computer screen and peered out the window as Samantha Jacobs marched purposefully towards his front door. Closing the laptop that showed the interior of her house, he scanned the rental for any other signs of his purpose. A one-man operation and a pitiful budget didn’t lead to a large scale stakeout. Trevor was doing this gig on his own time, financing it on his own dime and about a million favors. The bugs had been planted, the two cameras in place, one in the foyer, feeding off her pedestrian security system, the other in her bedroom. Everything was routed to this laptop, so as long as she wasn’t coming over to check her email, she wouldn’t know.

  Pulling on a denim shirt to hide his scarred shoulder, he ran a hand through his still damp hair, just as the doorbell rang. Too little sleep and too much testosterone had done nothing for his physical appearance. Plus, he hadn’t shaved in a while. No point when he wasn’t going out. He probably looked like a steaming bucket of ass, but he hadn’t been expecting company. Nothing for it now but to see what was up.

  Fixing a welcoming smile on his face he opened the door and got his first close up look at Samantha Jacobs in the flesh.

  He’d long ago memorized every detail of her life, or at least those on record. The photos hadn’t done her justice. Sure, her peaches and cream complexion, the big blue eyes, sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose all looked the same, but a still couldn’t capture the flash of intelligence in those eyes, the way she licked her full lips. What a fucking waste, a smart, beautiful woman like that tying herself to a throwback like Gibbons.

  Tamping down his desire and the irrational surge of anger when he imagined that Neanderthal’s hands on her, Trevor asked, “Can I help you?”

  Their eyes met and held. His heart sped up until blood pounded in his ears. Her lips parted, but she didn’t say anything, just stared up at him unblinkingly. Whatever she’d been so determined to say to him had drowned in the current of sizzling attraction that charged the air around them.

  A neighbor on the other side beeped open a minivan. She jumped, breaking the spell. Red crept into her cheeks as she watched the mom load three kids and a small white dog into the vehicle. Trevor took the opportunity to study her up close.

  Her body was lush, curvy, that of a real woman, not a surgically enhanced doll. Her hips were wide, perfect for a man to grip and hold onto while she rode him. And those full breasts practically spilling out of her red tank top would jiggle with every thrust.

  Though he’d just come not even an hour earlier, his cock throbbed painfully against his jeans. Christ, she even smelled amazing, sweet and hot like vanilla cupcakes. What would she taste like?

  “Do you want to come in? I have coffee.” His kitchen was bare otherwise, but she didn’t need to know that. This was so wrong—the last thing he should do was invite her into his house. But the devil in his mind prompted the thought, what better way to keep an eye on her than have her naked in his bed, not just in his mind?

  She shook her head. “No, I…just needed to tell you something.”

  He waited for her to continue. When she didn’t he shifted his weight. “Miss…?”

  She started, as though he’d poked her in the belly. Her hand came up, extended. “Sorry, I’m Samantha. Samantha Jacobs. I live across the street.” She pointed to the house.

  Slowly, he clasped his hand around hers. God, her skin was soft, like silk, but warm and pliant to the touch. Her fingers were long, graceful. Searching the file he had on her in his mind, he scanned all the archived data, wondering if she’d ever taken piano lessons.

  “Trevor Harrison,” his voice sounded thick and rough in his own ears. “You sure I can’t get you anything? Coffee, water…?” Sexual satisfaction?

  He’d dared not say the last though. The woman had been tied up and left for dead by her former lover and the last thing Trevor wanted to do was intimidate her in any way. They were never supposed to meet, and yeah, so maybe he’d danced over the line of propriety when he’d fantasized about her while taking care of his morning boner, but that was still no contact. He never would have made a move to approach her unless her life was in danger.

  But now that she stood before him, her small hand lost in his, he couldn’t stop the images that sprang to mind. Of what he wanted to do to her lush body.

  Retrieving her hand from his huge paw, she blushed prettily. “I um, just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

  “Thanks.” He was no body language expert, but Trevor was pretty sure she was lying. Though why she would, he couldn’t imagine.

  She shifted from foot to foot. “So, are you renting or did you buy?”

  Could this conversation be any more stilted? What was she, a nark for the homeowner’s association? “Renting right now. I’ve had some upheaval in my life lately, especially at work.” Big frigging understatement. He was still on medical leave after being plugged in the shoulder by her ex’s .38.

  She nodded. “I know what you mean. I just moved here six months ago. It’s been a nice change. Peaceful. I especially like the community nature trails. I jog early in the morning—” Cutting herself off, her face flushed crimson, so alluring next to her long dark hair.

  God, she was pretty. Small and feminine, she aroused every male instinct he possessed. Trevor could easily stare at her all day; listen to her soft voice as she talked about everything and nothing all at once.

  Well maybe not easily. Already he was tempted to pull her into the house, press her against the wall and kiss the living hell out of her. Through the haze of lust he realized she had asked him something.

  “Could you repeat that?”

  Her face was still red and she wouldn’t meet his gaze again. “Will you be at community day on Friday?”

  He’d rather stick a hot poker in his eye than hobnob with the locals, but for some reason, he found himself nodding. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  She shuffled her feet, glanced down at the cell phone in her hand. “I need to get going, I’ll be late for work.”

  “Where do you work?”

  She looked startled by his interest and he cursed under his breath. Shit, this was tough, making everything out to be a natural question when the conversation was far from organic. He knew all the answers, had spent months studying her habits. “Sorry. I’m a detective, we’re nosy by nature.”

  “You’re a cop?” She looked hopeful.

  Trevor nodded, “A detective, actually.” It had been a calculated risk, telling her that, but he wanted her to feel safe, to know she could trust him.

  If her bright smile was any indication, it was the right answer. “I’m part owner of a bar near the strip.”

  “Maybe I’d stop by and see you at work sometime.”

  She grinned. “I think I’d like that.” Turning away, she started toward her driveway and then stopped. Her shoulders squared and she glanced back at him. “Oh, and Trevor?”

  The way she said his name, as though it tasted good in her mouth, had him choking on a stifled groan. He watched, captivated as she sauntered back to his doorstep. Crooking her finger she indicated he should bend down. Her breath fell softly on his ear as she whispered, “You really should think abou
t shutting your bedroom blinds.”

  It took his mind several seconds to puzzle out what she meant and by the time he did, she was backing out of her driveway.

  Holy shit, she’d seen him while he’d been imagining her…Oh fuck.

  Trevor shut the door and leaned against it, sure he was in way over his head.

  Chapter Two

  Sam had a little spring in her step when she entered Lucky 21. “Stel-la!” She shouted upstairs, reminiscent of Brando on Streetcar. It was a running joke between her and her college roommate turned business partner.

  The sound of voices overhead told her Stella was late, as usual. The deep rumble of a masculine bass carried down through the beaded curtains that separated Stella’s living space from the bar. She couldn’t make out the words but they were deep and sexy. Her good mood evaporated as what sounded like skin slapping skin and giggles turned to groans of pleasure. Her business partner wasn’t alone.

  Sam bit her lip and listened. Cripes, she was such a loser. First spying on Trevor and now listening while Stella played hide the salami with her catch of the day. Was everyone getting off today except her?

  After plugging in the twinkle lights that draped from the exposed beams above the bar, Sam headed back through the office and turned on her computer. She was the business savvy partner, the detail person who took care of all the boring business aspects, like inventory, paying the bills and keeping the bar in the black. Stella was the fun one, attracting customers and lovers like flies to honey. Or as Stella said, manure, because nothing draws them in like heaps of bullshit.

  While the ancient desktop whirred to life, Sam returned to the front and filled the coffee pot. Wiping down the already spotless bar, she moved out into the room and began taking chairs off of tables. A few were sticky and smelled like rum. Filling a bucket with hot water, she wiped them down, then the tables for good measure.