Snap Decision

by Jami Davenport

  “Well, very few. Have it your way.” He spread his arms wide. “Make me hurt so good.”

  Digging through the drawer, she removed four sets of pink-fur-lined handcuffs, still in the packaging. She ripped them open, littering the hardwood floor with the cardboard. Leaning over the bed, she clicked the first cuff in place over Tyler’s big wrist—it barely fit—then fastened it to the four-poster bed. Tyler didn’t seem to mind the pink, not one bit. She fastened the other wrist and both legs to the bed, rendering him helpless. Well, helpless as long as he played along. She had no doubt he could break the handcuffs if he wanted with one flick of his wrist. This game wasn’t about physical control.

  As she crawled onto the bed, the mattress sagged a little under her weight. Tyler glanced down at the flogger and back at her face. They locked gazes momentarily. She dragged the flogger over his body. He shivered and closed his eyes, as if at her mercy, but she knew better. Tyler Harris would never be at anyone’s mercy. His entire body tensed, but he held stock-still, as if he feared any movement would make her stop. Lavender rolled the flogger around in her hands. She’d never used anything like this, but her naughty girl took over.

  Lavender slid the leather lashes of the whip over his cock, and it jerked in response. Moving it back and forth, she caressed his erection and balls with the leather strands. He groaned and tossed his head back and forth on the mattress. She brought the whip up and lightly slapped his flat stomach in the vicinity of his navel. He squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Aww, damn, that feels good.” Tyler flexed his hips and thrashed on the bed.

  Gathering her courage, she adjusted her stance and slapped the strands across his upper thighs and over his cock. Lightly, but it had to sting, at least a little.

  “Harder.” He spoke through gritted teeth, but she doubted it was because of the minor pain she’d inflicted. Closing her eyes—she’d never make a good dominatrix—she struck him again, but it was a pansy-assed strike at that. He gasped and growled like a wolf challenging his mate. How she loved a feral man.

  “Harder.” Tyler ground out the words with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Beads of sweat stood out on his body. His chest rose and fell as he writhed on the bed. He tugged on his restraints. His eyes rolled back in his head. His cock grew bigger, more rigid, if that was even possible. Tyler fisted his hands and braced himself.

  Lavender considered her options. So far she’d played right into his plans, given him what he’d asked for. Sitting back on her haunches, she perused his body with the expertise of a dedicated window shopper. “No.”

  He snapped his head up and stared at her incredulously. “Why not?”

  “Because you want me to.” Lavender brushed him with the flogger, refusing to strike him, and turned him into a writhing, groaning mass of lust and muscle. She feared he would come right then and there. She watched him fight to control his body’s reaction, feeling a bit evil and a lot naughty.

  “Aww, man, you are tough.”

  “Don’t you dare come until you’re buried inside me.” Lavender closed her eyes for a moment, fantasizing about the very moment he’d fill every empty corner of her body and soul.

  “I’m trying not to. You’re good. You ever done this before?” His voice was thick with passion and tight from the strain of holding back. The veins stood out on his neck, while his cock twitched as if demanding some satisfaction.

  “Nope. I’m winging it.” Lavender grinned and traced the flogger across his balls and up his cock to the tip. She drew circles on the bulbous head until a few drops of pre-cum appeared.

  “Damn. You’re a natural, El.”

  “Thanks, I think.” She bent down. Tyler held his breath, still as a bronzed statue of a Greek god. Her red hair grazed his stomach, his abs, his pecs. She tasted his body from his neck to his belly button. The man exerted incredible self-control as she did her best to bring him to the brink then yank him back from the edge. His magnificent body was strung tight, rock hard and trembling.

  She swirled her tongue in his belly button. He groaned and arched his back, biting down on his lower lip. When her mouth touched the velvety tip of his cock, he arched his hips and dug his heels into the mattress. After sucking off the bead of precum, she licked the soft flesh, tenderized by the flogger torture/pleasure.

  He thrashed his head on the pillow and uttered a series of unintelligible grunts and groans. His body broadcast that his ability to control his desire was razor thin, and she did want to feel his big cock inside her swollen pussy.

  “Come here.” He beckoned her, his deep voice like a male siren song, reeling her in, pulling her toward her fate.

  “You’re in no position to give orders.”

  His blue gaze drilled into hers. “I could be in the right position in a second.” He tugged on the restraint on his left hand a few times to prove his point. The flimsy pink cuffs wouldn’t withstand his strength if he chose to end the game. Despite the illusion of her being in charge, he’d never relinquished control. She craved to hang on to that illusion a few more minutes. Evidenced by the fact that he didn’t break his bonds, he chose to let her. Her heart warmed at his selfless act, the type of gift she’d never have expected from a strong-willed, very male Tyler Harris.

  “But you won’t.” Lavender pointed out that obvious fact since he hadn’t broken free. She’d give him a little taste of being the submissive partner, her own unorthodox gift.

  Leaning across him, she opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out a condom packet. She tore open the package.

  Tyler watched her, eyes shining with raw hunger and something deeper than that. Her gaze lingered for a moment on his handsome face. Rarely did he allow anyone to see beyond his mask of bravado, but he’d lowered it for the moment, let her see the man beneath, just a glimpse, a hint of who he really was. A soft smile spread across his face. She smiled back.

  “Fuck me,” he whispered. His low, sexy voice weaved the spell of intimacy tighter, pushed the intensity higher. Lavender leaned down and sheathed his cock in a condom. Straddling his hips, she held the base of his cock with one hand and rested her other hand on his chest to balance herself. She lowered her body until the head of his cock brushed her pussy lips. Rubbing her pussy across the tip, she got as much enjoyment out of it as he did. He shifted beneath her, alternating between cussing and groaning. Tyler lifted his hips in an effort to push his cock deeper. Lavender rose up, avoiding penetration.

  “Fuck me. Dammit,” he ordered, not in a position to order anything. He jerked on his bonds, ready to break them.

  Lavender leaned over him, her large breasts close to his mouth. He tried to catch a nipple with his lips, but she eluded him. Straightening slightly, she held his cock upright and slid down about one inch. Tyler fought harder against the handcuffs. Much to her surprise, they held. He flexed his hips and raised his ass off the bed. She let him take her another inch deeper. Inch by painful inch she lowered herself, taking her time, enjoying his total dependence on her. Knowing he hated and loved it at the same time.

  But she had her own needs. When he was halfway buried inside her, she surprised him by slamming her body downward the rest of the way. He uttered a guttural growl of pleasure. She leaned back, letting his big cock fill the places only he could fill, not just physically but in ways that scared the living daylights out of her.

  After lifting herself up halfway, Lavender dropped down on him again. He jerked his hips upward to press their bodies tighter together. She established their rhythm, pumping up and down on him until the twitching of his cock inside her warned of its impending release. His eyes squeezed shut and his jaw tightened.

  “Ah, woman, just give it to me. Now. Harder. Harder. Harder.” His begging eroded her sanity.

  With each stroke, she slammed down harder on him, while he met her halfway. She felt his release inside her body and somewhere even deeper in her mind.

  Her own release overwhelmed her like an undertow pulling her out to sea. Waves of p
leasure swept them into the ocean in a warm rush. Lavender collapsed on top of his sweaty body and rested her head against the crook in his neck.

  A second later, his deep breathing indicated he’d fallen asleep.

  Typical man.

  * * * * *

  Tyler didn’t want to wake up. Every time he had sex with his purple lady, he swore it couldn’t get better than that, and then the next time it did.

  Tonight she’d taken charge and screwed his brains out. Damn, but he did love a woman in control. At least for a while. He’d never concede total control to any woman, but once in a while the novelty proved worth it. Lavender sent him beyond “worth it” into the “incredible” zone. He wanted more, greedy bastard that he was. Good ol’ Uncle Artie must have known what he was doing when he’d willed this place to his horny nephew. Tyler would bet his Super Bowl bonus the old guy knew his brother’s grandson would get off on the hot chick next door. And not just once, but multiple times. Get off and be gotten off on.

  Tyler sank into the mattress. He let his body melt into a state of ultimate relaxation, a place he never went without Lavender’s assistance. He planned on taking that vacation several more times before his island exile ended.

  He pulled the layers of blankets up to their necks to ward off the chill in the room. Funny, he’d never noticed how cold it was earlier. He blew out a breath, expecting to see puffs of air crystallizing to ice. The damn furnace must have quit again. Tyler glanced at the empty fireplace across the room, wishing he’d built a fire earlier, but he’d freeze off his cock if he got out of bed to build one now. He had better uses for said cock than to turn it into a Popsicle.

  He pulled her body closer to his. The heat generated by Lavender’s body should put his temperamental furnace to shame. Of course, the piece of crap had no shame.

  Damn, but she felt good, all soft and silky and pliable in his hands. Hell, despite his fourteen-inch height advantage, she fit him well. He’d always avoided short women, now he wondered why he’d been so shallow as to have height as one of his dating requirements. But then he’d been shallow about a lot of things.

  “Ty?” Lavender rolled over and lay across his chest. Damn, her body warmed him like an electric blanket turned on high. Maybe working furnaces were overrated. He grinned in the darkness.

  “Tyler.” She jabbed him in the ribs to get his attention.

  “Hmmm?” He frowned, not liking the tone of her voice.

  “What are you thinking?”

  He mulled the answer over for a minute. “Actually, I’m thinking about all the Harrises who lay in this room and stared at this very ceiling. I wonder what they thought about? This house could tell some good stories.”

  “If your ancestors were anything like you, I’m guessing it could.” Her small hands curled in his chest hair. “Twin Cedars is your family’s legacy. What are you going to do with this place?”

  Ty stiffened. “I might hang on to it for a while, but I’ll probably sell it eventually.”

  “If a developer sank his claws into this property, the first thing he’d do is raze this mansion. Could you live with that?”

  The idea of the Harris mansion being reduced to a pile of rubble disturbed him. He’d grown a little fond of the proud old lady. Yet he wouldn’t get sentimental when it came to his bank account. “Do you have any effing idea how much this place will be worth in a few years? I’ll make a shitload of money.”

  “Is that why Artie left this place to you? So you could make money off of it?” Lavender rose up. Even in the darkness, he felt her accusing gaze on him.

  Tyler knew what Twin Cedars meant to his father and grandfather. To his family. Uncle Artie had left it to him with no stipulations on what he could do with it, other than his ninety-day banishment from civilization. Obviously, the old coot trusted his judgment, though Tyler couldn’t fathom Artie’s rationale when it came to requiring Tyler live here.

  “It’s all about the money with you, isn’t it?” Lavender’s disapproving voice bothered him more than he cared to admit.

  “Damn right. You can’t be surprised.” If she only knew.

  “I’m not, but I am disappointed. Your uncle must be tossing in his grave.” She plucked at his chest hairs until he captured her small hands in one big hand and held them away from his body.

  “He’s not in a grave. He’s in Hazard Channel.”

  “Smartass.” Annoyed, she slapped at his chest. He tucked her hands against his warm body. She was trying to have a serious discussion and assumed he just wanted to screw. Let her think that. He wore his asshole costume well. No reason to take it off now.

  “I haven’t a clue what you mean.”

  Lavender sighed. “Artie used to talk about giving something back. He wanted to make an affordable retreat here on the island for veterans, soldiers, and their families.”

  “Why the fu—fudge would he want to do something like that?”

  “Because most veterans and soldiers can’t afford a vacation in the San Juans. He wanted them to feel the peace he felt here. To heal a little.”

  “Whatever,” Tyler mumbled. “And you mean to tell me the brotherhood could afford to fix this place up and rent out rooms for less than they were worth to needy veterans?”

  “No, they can’t.”

  “If this veterans home was that important to Uncle Art, why’d he will the place to me? He knew me. I’m a selfish, greedy bastard.”

  Lavender rose up to look him in the eyes. Her brown eyes challenged him—to what, he didn’t have a clue. “Maybe he does know you. Maybe that was the point. Maybe you don’t know yourself.”

  Tyler groaned and rolled his eyes. He shifted his body underneath her. “Oh, crap, I know where this is headed.”

  “Do you? Where is it headed?”

  “You want me to hand this place over to you and a bunch of goofballs. No way in hell. I’m not giving up millions of dollars.”

  “Is that all this place means to you? Just dollars? What about the heritage, the history behind it? You don’t even know a thing about the people who built this place, even though they’re your damn ancestors.”

  “You’re starting to piss me off. If we’re going to get personal and discuss long-lost relatives, why don’t we discuss your dad?” He braced himself for the explosion.

  Lavender shot to her feet and evaded the arm that snaked out to grab her. “So you can dish it out but you can’t take it, can you? If Twin Cedars means nothing to you, why are you restoring the bannister?” His look of surprise seemed to give her confidence. “You care, Tyler. About a lot of things. The question is why do you spend too much time pretending you don’t?”

  Before he had a chance to mount a counterattack, she grabbed her clothes and ran for the door, slamming it behind her. A rush of cold air swirled around him, like a cold hand on his shoulder. He shivered and sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes.

  Being a jerk had never affected him before.

  But now it did.

  Lavender saw through him. Just like Ryan had. Tyler swallowed the lump in his throat as he pictured Ryan looking like a skeleton in that hospital bed. He’d hugged the kid’s fragile body one last time. As he turned to leave, the last words Ryan ever said to him were: Ty, I was wrong. You do care. About people.

  Those words ripped his gut apart. He’d cared, all right, cared that for all his blustery confidence, he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about the cancer destroying Ryan’s body or convince Ryan’s mother to leave her stripper job in Vegas for one last goodbye to her son. As dysfunctional as families were, they were still family, no matter what. If only Lavender got the importance of mending those fences. Any moment might be the last moment she’d ever have.

  After that, there’d be nothing but a lifetime of regrets.

  Chapter 16—Picked Off

  The pounding on the door roused Tyler from his stupor. He bolted upright in his chair, sending Coug flying off his lap. Coug stood, shook himself off, and shot the offender an i
ndignant look. The tabby marched over to the fireplace hearth and proceeded to groom himself—his third favorite thing to do next to eating and sleeping.

  Ever since Lavender ran out at sunrise, Tyler worked on the woodwork in the grand entryway, but the painstaking physical labor did nothing to alleviate his bad mood.

  Taking a lunch break, he’d sat in his favorite chair and drifted off, something he rarely, if ever, did. Given his lack of sleep in the past twenty-four hours, not a surprise. The more he screwed Lavender the more he wanted—and not just her body. This was getting out of control. At first, he’d wanted nothing but sex. He kept pushing the limits of their relationship beyond the physical and she did too by meddling in his personal life. Her interference pissed him off. What he did with Twin Cedars was none of her business, any more than her relationship with her father was his. Why did he keeping pushing her? What did it matter to him if she ever reconciled with her dad?

  Tyler didn’t relinquish control to anyone, but he had to her—physically and emotionally—and enjoyed every minute of it. Despite claiming indifference toward her on an emotional level, he kept sliding into his personal no-man’s land by caring about her as a person, granted, an annoying, irritating person. Stepping over that line had to stop. Their relationship was about their bodies, nothing else.

  The pounding started again and snapped him back to the present. Irritated, he glanced at his watch. Late afternoon. He wasn’t expecting anyone except for his truant carpenters, and they’d never show up for work this late in the day.

  Walking into the two-story foyer, Tyler peeked out the side window and frowned. Well, crap. Three vehicles littered his driveway. He recognized at least one of them and seriously considered a lights-out, no-one’s-home strategy, but only a coward retreated. Besides, with limited hiding spots on the island, the assholes would hunt him down.

  More pounding. The big double doors rattled in their frame.

  Heaving a sigh of resignation, Tyler yanked on one side of the solid oak front door. The damn thing stuck as usual. Grabbing the antique door handle with both hands, he wrenched on it. On shrieking hinges, the door gave way and slammed against the opposite wall. In the process, the force catapulted him across the room on his ass.