by Anne Conley
“Look, it was a mistake. I’ll fix the glass as soon as the hardware store opens tomorrow.” Her eyes were still glued to his cock. The pants didn’t hide a damn thing, and mortification rushed through Slade as his dick betrayed him once more with a twitch. This night would never fucking end. He was sure of it.
Without a word, Ginger got off the bed and left the room, leaving Slade there alone.
“Hey!” he hollered. “Where did you go?”
Images of her rushed his brain, totally unbidden, of Ginger and her Tuesday night fling playing their sex games with these very cuffs. His own sexy fantasies paled in comparison to the creamy flesh Ginger displayed as she pranced around wearing her pajamas. What he wouldn’t give to have her long, lithe body under him again. He certainly wouldn’t waste the opportunity with snarling at her like he had last time.
Maybe some sweet talk was in order here.
“Baby?” he called out.
“Not your baby,” was the reply from the kitchen.
“Look, it’s clear we got off on the wrong foot. You broke into my house, I was just returning the favor. You can … um … do stuff to me, if you think that would get back at me.”
She appeared at her bedroom door with a wicked glint in her eye and her hands behind her back. “Really?”
His cock nearly jumped out of his pants. Slade was breathing through his mouth as nothing short of pure lust pulsed through his veins. “Yeah.” He slammed his mouth shut before the baby could follow.
“Sweet,” she murmured as she stalked toward him, hands still behind her back. “Anything?” Her eyes on him still had a twinkle of mischief, and he loved it. There was something about this woman he needed. He’d wanted to wait until the shit with Cecil was straightened up, but since he couldn’t rightfully see another way out of this particular situation, he would go for it.
He didn’t love the idea of not being in control with Ginger. He wanted to fuck her properly, touch her, make her scream, not be some live sex toy like the other guy.
Slade rattled the cuffs attaching his wrists to the bedpost. He wasn’t in any position to argue right now, was he?
Besides, she was climbing on the bed with him.
His erection was hard enough to cut steel. Ginger’s hands were still behind her back, but he didn’t care what sort of surprises she carried as long as she’d continue on the path she’d started. She climbed between his legs, tied spread-eagle, and bent down to his cock, wrapping her lush lips around the fabric surrounding him and blowing.
Slade leaned back and exhaled a groan as he grew impossibly harder while she mouthed him through his pants. He no longer cared what she carried behind her back as he felt her tongue swipe across the soft flannel, wetting it with her hot saliva.
This felt so damn good.
He pressed up, pushing his heels into the bed, angling for more from her. A ripping sound rent the air, and his eyes flashed open to find her mouth still on him, but the biggest fucking filet knife he’d ever seen flashing through the darkness was ripping his damn pants.
Good feelings gone.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
Ginger removed her mouth from him and a sense of relief tinged with desperation coursed through his dick. He wanted her mouth back down there, just not the knife.
Her delicious-looking lips quirked up into something wild. “I’m like, ninety percent bitch.” Her eyebrows waggled. “Scary, isn’t it?”
“Uh, yeah …” Slade didn’t know what to say. He was half turned on more than he’d ever been in his life, half scared this would be the last night of his life.
He watched, open mouthed, as she slipped the knife through the fabric of his pants, again and again, effectively shredding them.
When she was finished cutting his pants to shreds, she sat back on her heels to admire her handiwork. Then she went at the waist band, removing them altogether.
“There.”
“What the hell, Ginger?” His voice was hoarse and ragged, coming out more of a squeak than anything else.
“What? You came in here, in the middle of the night, with questionable intentions. You were probably planning to rape me, am I right?” She twirled the filet knife between her fingers. “By the way, I told you before not to call me Ginger. I don’t like it.”
“What? No!” Slade struggled against his restraints once more, knowing it was futile, but he was unable to lay here without a fight while she shredded his underwear, too. “I wouldn’t rape a woman.” His eyes pleaded with her to believe him. “I’m a total shithead, but I’m not a rapist. Swear.”
Her knife was poised over his dick, which was no longer able to pound nails, thank fuck. She looked at his wilted bulge, then at the knife, then back to him.
“You suck at wooing.” Her lips formed a pout, and Slade swallowed, unable to believe his ears, but she continued. “I swear. Men. It’s so damn hard to find someone fucking normal.” She got off the bed, taking the knife with her back to the kitchen. “Why is it so hard to find a normal guy who’s not a total creep?”
Slade barked out a laugh, slightly relieved she’d returned without the knife. “Like Tuesday’s show?”
Ginger sighed. “He’s one of the biggest creeps. But he has his usefulness.” Her eyes dropped. “For now.” Something flashed across her face he thought he’d never see: shame. As soon as he recognized it, it was gone, replaced by her previous mischief. Mischief that made him nervous.
“You gonna kill him and dispose of the body when you’re done?” Slade couldn’t help the dig, still pissed about the knife thing. Was that some sort of test? He shook the cuffs keeping him on this damn bed, knowing it was mostly for show. Or did she really think he’d been there to rape her and was trying to scare him?
That thought brought him up short.
“I think we’re done here.” She leaned over and released one of his cuffs, filling his nostrils with her scent and brushing his mouth with her tit. He clamped his mouth shut to keep from pulling it into his mouth. If she thought he were here to rape her, that wouldn’t do much for his case.
But he couldn’t resist when she leaned over to release the other cuff. His restraint ebbed away as soon as her scent hit his nose. His free arm reached for her hair, tangling in the silky curls, and tugged her mouth to his.
Slade inhaled her scent at the same time he tasted her lips, and it was divine. He got lost in the sensations, and as her hands fell to his chest, gripping his t-shirt, she opened with a small sound. He dove in, unable to curb his appetite, and his tongue delved inside, stroking her mouth. He ate the sounds she made, overpowering them with noises of his own.
He was buzzing again, with lust. It pummeled him as he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling on it before going back for more. She tasted like everything right in his world.
He tried to roll on top of her, his cuffed arm under her head, but his feet were still tied, and he came up short. With a grunt, he broke the kiss.
“Let me loose, baby,” he breathed into her mouth before kissing her again, languidly swiping her mouth with this tongue.
“Not a chance, Mr. Fine Ass. You’re going home.” Ginger scooted back on the bed and shakily released him, getting off the bed before he could grab her and haul her back into his kisses.
He sat up, utterly confused, and untied his legs while she watched with a smirk. She was standing by the dresser again, within reach of her gun.
Slade took the hint.
“I’ll be back to fix your window.” He stood, aware he was wearing his underwear and a t-shirt, but then again so was she. Her nipples practically poked through the fabric, and if he weren’t mistaken there was a spot of wetness on her panties. A rush of pride filled him.
“Yeah, wear pants.”
He stalked over to her, desperate to take her in his arms and kiss her like he meant it, but she reached for her gun, twirling it idly between them. “Remember, ninety percent bitch?”
“Yeah. Gotcha.” Like a wounde
d puppy, Slade turned and let himself out.
Today had been the longest day of his life, and tomorrow wasn’t going to be any different. Not if he had to come over and fix her window before work and whatever Cecil had planned for him there. But this thing with Ginger was proving more interesting than he could ever anticipate—and he wasn’t sure what to make of that.
Chapter Seven
Deena Rae was killing time, trying to look busy at the office before she left to go check out the bar. She would never admit it to anyone, but she was nervous. Rick would never dream of letting her do shit like this, and the fact Simon trusted her enough to let her do this job almost made her want to have his babies.
Of course, that brought to mind the confusing Mr. Fine Ass, who’d shown up at her doorstep bright and early to fix her window. He hadn’t said a word, only started measuring the space and cutting glass, which was impressive to watch, but she didn’t stick around. Deena Rae trusted herself around him about as far as she could throw him, and she’d had a hell of a time just getting him into her bed last night.
Thankfully, Zack bumped into her doorframe to keep her thoughts from traveling down that rabbit hole of erotica.
He knocked half-heartedly to announce his presence, which was already obvious from the uff he’d exhaled when he slammed his knee into the door jam. “Hey, you got a minute?”
Deena Rae smiled to herself. “I’ve actually got a few. What’s up? Where’s Shania?” His service dog had become a fixture in the office.
“Sleeping under my desk. I didn’t want to disturb her.” He held out his phone. “Evan just installed a new and improved upgrade to my text to speech app on my phone and I can’t see to set it up.” He laughed ruefully. “Sucks. And he’s gone home already.”
She took the phone from him. “Sure. Take a seat and walk me through it.”
As Zack told her how to set up his phone, they made small talk about her case.
“You need any help tonight?” His eyebrows raised, Zack looked hopeful. “I could use a night out.”
She honestly wanted to help him out, with his dad sick and all. But Deena Rae felt like she had something to prove, to herself as much as to the guys at the firm.
“I don’t think so. I really want to do this alone tonight. But maybe when Simon gives me the go-ahead to look deeper? And I already have you on my speed dial. If it looks like I’ll need to meet someone, I’ll give you a call?”
He seemed disappointed at first, but her compromise seemed to satisfy him. “How are you doing with your dad and stuff?” She reached for his hand, not really one to be touchy feely but wanting to show support. “I lost both my parents when I was twenty-two. I get it. It’s hard. And people lie. It doesn’t get any easier.”
His head dropped as he squeezed her fingers and blew out a breath. “Yeah, I guess I am. It’s not like there’s anything I can do about it. It’s just that with the morphine and shit, he’s saying some weird stuff and it’s freaking out my mom.”
Having absolutely no experience with lingering effects of the dying on the living, she simply said, “I’m so sorry. I wish I could say I understand, but mine died in a sudden accident. One day they were there, the next they were gone. I’m not sure which would be worse.”
Zack looked up at her, and she could swear those vacant blue eyes could actually see her. “How did you deal with the fact they were gone? Someone who’d been in your entire life, suddenly … gone? How do you get used to that?”
Deena Rae swallowed. “I yelled. I threatened the little teeny bopper who thought the song on her radio was more important than my parents. I quit riding motorcycles. I drank. A lot.” She paused before pointing out what had been bothering her. “At least you get a chance to tell him goodbye and how much he means to you. You get closure.”
He took his phone from her outstretched hand. “Yeah. I don’t even know what the fuck closure means.”
“It means the last words you say to him don’t have to be bitter.” She wasn’t getting into her last words with her mother and how the fight they’d had still haunted her dreams at night. The morning of her parents’ accident, when they were all getting ready to leave, her mother had made the suggestion to set her up with a friend’s son, and Deena Rae had thrown a temper tantrum. It effectively told her mother she didn’t trust her judgement, didn’t like her friends—much less their sons, and basically had been a spoiled brat that didn’t have any business dating nice boys anyway.
“Yeah, I guess there’s that.” Zack sat in silence for a while before finally getting up to leave. “Thanks for the help. I appreciate it.” And without another word, he slipped out the door without banging his knee this time.
Deena Rae got ready for her first night undercover at Ignite. She wasn’t looking for anything specific, but something in her gut told her Cecil Hodges was a bad man, and if she could find something to keep him from getting full custody of the cute little boy, she would. His file was clean. Dude paid his credit cards on time, paid off his cars as soon as he could, was financially stable. He wasn’t in therapy for anything, yadda yadda yadda. It didn’t appear he broke the law at all. But she’d heard Ignite was a lair of sorts in Austin, and she was curious to find out for what. If it was what the rumors said, dude had no business with a child.
Deena Rae looked through her closet, settling on a leather mini skirt which showed off her legs. She’d always thought her legs were her best feature and she really wanted to wear a pair of stiletto ankle boots, making her legs look more toned and lifting her ass. Plus, they doubled as a weapon in a pinch. But the tracking device was in her work boots, a black, leather, steel-toed, clunky number. They wouldn’t look as svelte as the other ones, but the effect was pretty fucking badass, if she did say so herself. And since she was on the job, she needed to wear the tracking device. If Cecil was as bad as they thought, she might be walking into a lion’s den, here.
Her top didn’t really matter, not with the leather mini showing off her legs, but she chose a white, low-cut tank top coupled with a bright-blue bra. Checking out the results in the mirror, she was pleased. Little bit trashy. Little bit dangerous.
Perfect.
Of course, her thoughts went back to Mr. Fine Ass as she got ready, wondering what he would think about her outfit.
If only she could get her head in the game. Her early morning visitor had Deena Rae all out of sorts. When she’d first heard the breaking glass, she’d been ready to shoot whoever it was. But when she’d seen it was Mr. Fine Ass, Deena Rae had decided to fuck with him a little. Of course, as was her modus operandi, she’d gotten a little carried away. But when a woman feels sexually threatened, the fight or flight instincts take over. So what if her fight instincts were a little twisty.
Deena Rae had been all about the retribution. But his desperation had convinced her he wasn’t there to rape her. If that were the case, though, why was he there?
Breaking a window to get into her apartment went way further than simply picking a lock to snoop, which was what she’d done. Huge difference in her mind.
Yeah, so she’d lost a little bit of her control and done more intimate things than she’d planned.
He wasn’t home. She’d been watching him watch her, but he’d done what he’d promised and fixed her window this morning and had gone home to sleep.
He hadn’t been home when she’d finished making an appearance at work, so she’d made cookies.
Yeah, she wasn’t really much for baking shit, but she felt bad. Deena Rae didn’t know why he’d broken into her apartment, but she’d broken into his first, and he’d left her place with a few years scared off his life.
So she’d baked him cookies. And they were fucking good, too. She’d trashed her diet today, for him. Fucker.
Deena Rae arranged them on a platter, put cling wrap on it, and walked the cookies over to his place. Using her lock pick set, she let herself in and put the cookies on the counter with a note. Sorry for scaring you with a knife.
He had scared the shit out of her first.
She blared Buck Cherry’s “Crazy Bitch” on the way to Ignite in her black-with-pink-accents F350, trying to get in the mood for what she was doing tonight. Deena Rae loved her truck. It said everything about her she wanted the world to know. The one-ton pickup screamed badass, while the pink windshield wiper blades spoke to a feminine side she sometimes struggled with showing. Of course, it guzzled gas like a motherfucker, but that was the price she paid for the image.
Deena Rae had no desire to pick up a guy, which was what going to clubs was really all about. She had to get her bitch vibe going on so she didn’t fall prey to her own needs. That’s not what tonight was for.
She was supposed to go in, blend with the crowd, have a few drinks, do some dancing, and look around. That was all. Maybe hit on Cecil, if she saw him, to try to get in a little bit closer, but that wasn’t part of Simon’s assignment—just a little idea she had come up with on her own.
The bass line of the dance music was loud enough to filter down Sixth Street to the parking lot where she parked her truck. She stood in line for a bit before one of the bouncers came strutting down the line, letting a select few move up to the front. When he got to her, Deena Rae stuck out her chest and put a pout on her lips, fluttering her eyelashes at the man.
“Okay, doll,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re in.”
A few grumbles met her ears as she strutted ahead of the line, but she didn’t give a shit. That’s how the game was played. She smirked as she showed her I.D., paid her cover, got her hand stamped, and went inside.
The smell of sweat and alcohol greeted her as the music blared loud enough to rupture an ear drum. She could feel the bass pumping in her damn spleen as she looked around while she made her way to the bar.
