Shrew & Company Books 1-3

by Holley Trent

  “I see. And why did you sign up for this study?”

  “I didn’t. My ex signed me up. I’d been back from overseas and still recovering from injuries I received, and I guess I was just too surly for him. I went along with it since I was in and out of the hospital getting burn care anyway.”

  His eyes, then fingertips, trailed down her torso to her thighs, caressing the soft skin there. “I can’t imagine you having burns.”

  Her brown skin was perfect. She didn’t have so much as a razor knick.

  She shrugged. “Positive side-effect of being a mutant. The drug nearly killed me, but I was going to die with my skin regenerated, so there’s that.”

  She laughed, but it was dry. Mirthless.

  “I’m glad you survived. That you’re here.”

  “You don’t want to hear about all the freaky shit I can do that you haven’t seen yet?”

  Her grin held no hints of what those might be.

  Did he want to know?

  Nah.

  He wasn’t really that curious about that. Seeing this side of her—the side with the interest in interior decorating and old houses—was what sparked his curiosity even more.

  He shrugged. “As long as you don’t use any of it against me at some point.”

  “Can’t make you any promises, acrobat.”

  She brought a hand up to her forehead to swat her hair away, and it shook.

  He grabbed it, stilled it in his own, and kissed it. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s over now, right?”

  She dragged the back of her other forearm over her eyes and sniffled. “Don’t know. We Shrews see our doctor far more than the average person.”

  “Well, you don’t know, but you can hope.”

  He leaned in, kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, and finally her lips. He kissed her until the tears stopped, and more beyond that.

  He held her against his chest, chafing her bare arms until she was quiet.

  He thought perhaps she’d fallen asleep, but when he reached for the covers, she said, “I need to set the intruder alarm.”

  “Tell me how, and I’ll do it. You stay.”

  She shook her head, and with some effort, sat up. “Let me do it. I guess since I’m off for the next couple of days, I should finally get my appliances delivered. They’ve been in the local warehouse for a month. I need to go online and take care of it and some other things.”

  It seemed as good a reason to let her up as any, so he did.

  She shrugged into fluffy robe and tied the sash tight, watching him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “What are you doing the next couple of days?”

  Any fucking thing she wanted. He’d even scrape her peeling plaster if she’d asked. “Looking for leads,” he lied.

  “Maybe you can do that here. I…hate being alone with delivery guys and contractors.”

  He thought she had to be joking, but the look on her face and the way she shifted her weight hinted at otherwise.

  But hadn’t he seen a hint of that hesitance at the lodge when the great room had filled for dinner? She had a hard time with strangers…and maybe that was part of the reason Dana wanted her on leave. Maybe it was a new thing she needed to work out. Might have been something she’d always had that got amplified by her psychic traits. Either way, it didn’t matter. He’d do whatever she wanted.

  “Yes,” he said. “I’ll deal with them.”

  With that settled, she nodded, and left the room.

  He followed.

  When they were on the stairs, heading down, he said in a light tone, “Querida, you need a dog.”

  She laughed, and it was a real, throaty laugh for a change, and not a scoff. “Why would I need a dog?”

  “Big house like this and all this land? You need something here to make noise.”

  She seemed to consider it as she paused at the landing. “Maybe.”

  “Perhaps a mastiff?” Oh yeah, something big that would be as protective of Sarah as Felipe was.

  “No way. Didn’t the conquistadors use those to quell the natives? I don’t think my part-Taíno mother would find that cute.” She pushed her code into the alarm panel at the front door and waited for the beep.

  Maybe she had a point there. “Water dog, then?”

  She grinned and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the den where her desk was half-set up. “Maybe. Have you never had a pet, Felipe?”

  “Not even a goldfish, querida. Fabian and I hadn’t earned that privilege.”

  “Yeah, Jacques needs a throat punch.”

  Felipe didn’t disagree.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Being back around the Shrews and in the midst of things in the mountains felt great, invigorating, but Sarah couldn’t shake the feeling there was somewhere else she needed to be.

  Felipe had been coming and going, every other week for a month, trying to chase down the circus that seemed to have disappeared into the ether. Best he could tell, they’d gone dark temporarily, and he couldn’t catch a lead on where they’d hunkered down to wait it out. Jacques had even shut down the answering service—something he’d apparently never done before. He’d always wanted customers to have a way to find them, hire them. And worse, Sarah couldn’t catch a lead, either, not even with her network of psychic friends.

  Sometimes, Felipe traveled with Patrick when he could get the time off from his pub. He’d been absent from it a lot lately, which was completely contrary to his type A personality, but he—even more than Billy—understood the importance of this mission. Of finding Jacques and ensuring he left the natives alone when his freak show rolled through town.

  Sometimes, when Patrick wasn’t available, Eric escorted Felipe, which both Sarah and Astrid disliked a great deal. The men usually came back no worse for wear, but what about the next time?

  Sarah startled at the press of a firm hand against her belly that drew her back into a very solid form. She’d been alone in the treehouse the Shrews had installed to survey the comings and goings at the gate, and hadn’t heard anyone climb up. She looked down and saw Felipe’s familiar fingers slipping into the front of her waistband.

  His beard-stubbled cheek abraded her smooth one, and a rasp escaped his lips at the press.

  His silky lips tickled the edge of her ear and raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

  “Hola, querida,” He whispered.

  He breached her panty elastic, and she gasped.

  “I didn’t hear you come up.”

  “When you’re one with air, you don’t make much noise.”

  She chuckled. “That’s poetic. I think your English is getting better.”

  “Being with you Americans around the clock has its perks. Immersion works, I suppose. Did you miss me?” His fingers curled near her sex, stimulating without probing, although her arousal should have been evident given the previous slick glide of his fingertips.

  A moan escaped her chest, and she put her head back against his shoulder, closing her eyes. “No,” she responded.

  “No? Hmm.” He sank his teeth into the meat of her shoulder. He worked one skillful hand upward, cradled her breast in his palm, and grazed his thumb over a lace-covered nipple.

  She gasped.

  She’d lied. Naturally, she’d missed him. Missed every inch of him from the hair she so loved lacing her fingers through, to the rock-hard abs she liked kissing on her way down to things lower. She’d even missed the muscular legs he’d in the past shaved smooth for performances—especially when they were wedged between her own legs, forcing her open for him. He’d kept up the shaving because she liked it. She missed the way he always fell asleep with one hand beneath her breasts. And maybe she even missed the way he made her stop. Slow down. With one gentle nudge, he could have her on her back, thinking of nothing but his hands. His lips.

  “What do I have to do to make you miss me when I’m gone?” He licked down the side of her neck and pulled back her shirt’s collar, letting the
cool breeze tickle her breasts.

  She squirmed against him, nestling her ass against his swelling cock. “I don’t know. Maybe leave me tied up somewhere so I have no choice but to think about you coming back.”

  He pushed her pants past her hips and they fell to the floor in a soft thump. The sound of clinking metal made Sarah’s sex clench, her wetness pool at her thighs.

  His belt.

  She knew the next thing she’d hear was the sound of his zipper going down.

  “You want to be tied up?”

  She swallowed hard and arched her spine when he rested a hand on the small of her back.

  Leaned over the windowsill of the treehouse as she was, a sensation of vertigo overtook her. The ground seemed so far, and the structure so unsteady, but the riskiness of the venture sparked a sort of certain exhilaration. Besides, what was a little height for a woman who flew rickety planes as a hobby? A little height made things fun sometimes.

  “I’ve never been tied up,” she whispered.

  He rolled the bottom of her shirt over her head, saying nothing until he’d released the catch of her bra. He kissed down her spine, tickling. Teasing.

  “That’s not what I asked,” he said when he’d reached the base of her back.

  She knew she hadn’t really answered the question. That had been intentional.

  Did she want to be? Bound and defenseless? Left to his mercy like the Visa had been all those weeks ago?

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “I think you would.” He knelt behind her and pressed her belly flat against the small window’s ledge. He removed one of her shoes, then the other, and divested her of the pants pooling at her ankles. With those out of the way, he nudged her legs farther apart and paused behind her with one hand at the inside of either thigh.

  “What do you want me to do to you, querida?”

  She grinned, knowing he couldn’t see it. “You’re giving me a choice?”

  “No. Not really. I’ll do what I want since you didn’t miss me. I’m just wondering.”

  “Then I won’t answer.” She wriggled her rear at him, knowing his face was inches away. Maybe he’d get the hint.

  “You’ll answer.” He pressed two fingers into her cunt and scissored them—just long enough for the sensation to register, but not long enough for her to get her fill of it. Not even close. He pulled his fingers out and gave her ass a hard smack.

  The sharpness of the contact gave way to a pleasurable burn that had her leaning even more toward him.

  “What do you want, querida?” he whispered, now kissing the inside of her left thigh just below the bikini line.

  Her eyes rolled and she took in some air, steadying herself as best she could. Her legs had started to shake. “I—I want you to fill me.”

  “With what?” he asked blithely, swirling his index finger around her clit and nibbling at the meat of her thigh.

  Her body quaked, pleading for release, even a little one, but every time she got close, he lightened the touch, seeming to understand that getting off was precisely her aim.

  “Your dick, Felipe. Please. It’s been a while.”

  “You said you didn’t miss me.” His fingers returned, now probing her wet passage, flicking against her G-spot.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She rode his fingers, trying to get more of that sensation, but he held himself back from her, even using his free hand to squeeze her ass and keep her in place.

  “I’ll make you miss me the next time.” And he stood, pulling her upright along with him. With one arm wrapped around her waist, he turned her to face him. There was a hint of the devil in his gray eyes.

  “What?” she asked.

  He grinned and clasped her wrists, pushing them together and quickly looping his leather belt around them. “Best I can do right now.”

  Tightly bound, her breasts plumped atop her upper arms, nipples peaked and seeming to point right at the source of their arousal. They were so hard they ached. The breeze’s caress had aroused them, but Felipe’s wanton gaze upon her seemed to intensify the sensitivity. Her breasts felt full and heavy atop their perch, ready for the crush of his hands. When Felipe bent low and grabbed one between his teeth, she had to suppress a yelp. The anticipation of him—her body’s weeks-long withdrawal from him, made every touch seem like she was one flick away from orgasm.

  He treated the sting of his bite with the tip of his tongue, then repeated the process on the other side.

  “Please,” she whined.

  He didn’t respond in words—just walked her to the support posts in the middle of the treehouse that held up the main rafter.

  He returned to her discarded clothes, knelt—casting a lascivious stare at her—and pulled her belt from her jeans.

  She swallowed, fearful she’d be feeling the sting of the leather on her ass.

  That wasn’t one of her kinks, though she did want to know if it was one of his. He’d always seemed more concerned with her pleasure than his own.

  He returned, turned her to face him, and took her mouth with a hungry kiss.

  His forceful tongue probed her mouth and led a sort of sensual dance with her lips that reminded her of just what she’d been missing, for he was as skillful down below with that tongue as he was up high.

  He pulled away, leaving her gasping for breath and her eyelids fluttering, before loosening the bind of her wrists.

  She raised a questioning eyebrow, but before she could ask his intentions, he moved her. He laid her on her back on their pile of clothes, and made quick work of binding her left wrist to her left ankle with one belt, then right wrist to right ankle with the other. She tested the restraints, and found them mildly irritating with the leather’s edges against her skin, but secure.

  He lowered himself to his knees, studying the bounty of her he’d revealed. His cock was hard and ready, but he held himself back. Looking, without touching.

  Sarah felt absolutely exposed, and even a bit timid at it. He’d seen it all before, but with her having no choice but to bare it all—for him to consume it on his own whims—it was all so new. With her hands bound, she had no control. Could neither touch him nor herself. It was up to him to pleasure her, or punish her, as he saw fit.

  She hoped there’d be more pleasure than pain, but maybe even pain wouldn’t be so bad if he administered it.

  “Hmm,” he purred. He wriggled out his black T-shirt and folded it over itself twice. He draped it over her eyes and tucked the ends beneath her head so it wouldn’t shift.

  “Felipe, I can’t see.”

  “But you can breathe?”

  “Yes?”

  “You don’t need to see.”

  Oh.

  She seemed to lie there an impossibly long time—eons, even—with him doing nothing, and her anticipation mounted. What was he doing? Just staring? What did he have planned for her? What had he been missing all those weeks he’d been gone?

  Her sex clenched with anticipation of his touch, clit tingling and her pussy wet for him.

  Finally, a touch. The light graze of his tongue on her clit, and she moaned, nearly done in already from the previous sensory deprivation. He swirled the tip around her swollen nub, teasing, and flattened his tongue against it as fingers filled her waiting cunt. He stretched her, nibbled her, drumming his fingertips against her G-spot until he ripped wild keening noises from her throat.

  Her cunt clenched around his fingers, and she wanted more—more of him inside her, but instead of giving her more, he withdrew his hand. His tongue remained, however, laving at her slit, teasing her so mercilessly.

  She cried out, “Felipe!”

  He slipped a wet fingertip into her anus and held it there. “Yes?” His breath was warm over her wet sex.

  Her jaw flapped, wordlessly, as she itemized the sensations she felt. Exposed. Aroused. Maybe a bit scandalized.

  “Relax, querida.”

  “Easy to say, hard to do.”

  He wrapped his lips around her clit,
and sucked.

  “Oh, God.”

  She relaxed.

  He slipped his finger in deeper, working her. Stretching her, while his other hand returned to her cunt. His mouth had gone away, but his frenetic massage of her clit and his now steady probing of her ass steered her toward the edge of oblivion.

  She rasped out some unintelligible words that may have been “More” or “Oh, yes!” but as her body wracked and cunt quivered, nearing that summit, he stopped.

  “Felipe!”

  Without a word, he shifted, she felt his hands on the floor at either side of her hips, and then his big cock was in her.

  She cried out. Never before had he felt so large—as if he could destroy her with just the swivel of his hips. And he certainly seemed keen on trying. He pushed himself as far into her as he could go.

  “Díos, woman.”

  Him calling out to God was a nice turn of events in her opinion. Turnabout was fair play.

  “Like that?” she asked, pushing her lips upward into a smirk she hoped looked as devious as it felt.

  He pulled almost all the way out, and slammed back in, knocking the smirk off her face. “Damn right I like it. That’s why it’s mine.”

  He did it again, and she growled out, “Fuck.” Her fingers itched to grab his hair and pull, but the bindings made that impossible.

  He increased his pace, and she breathed out a long sigh, overwhelmed at all the sensation. The sound of his sharp inhalations whenever she squeezed her sex around him, the smell of the damp earth way down below, his girth inside her, even the slight pain of those belts around her wrists and ankles.

  “Did you miss me?” he asked again, swiveling his hips so his cock opened her up a touch more.

  Should she answer no or yes? What would saying no get her? More of this wild claiming of her she’d never confess to liking, but did? Would yes make him stop? To caress her more tenderly? Would it prompt a conversation she didn’t want to have?

  Something, however, told her it was a time for truth. Maybe the truth would keep him from going off again on one those reckless missions. Maybe telling the truth would be the catharsis she needed to finally let go of the control she’d been so hesitant to cede to him all along.