by Lexi Blake
That voice was back. If you aren’t cut out for one woman, then why did you stop seeing Lana? Why haven’t you taken a lover in the whole six months she’s been gone? Not one single training session, not even one without sex involved. Since you started having sex you’ve never gone six months without it, until you met her.
He couldn’t go another single night.
He fished through his pocket and found the condom he kept in his wallet. Despite what had happened all those months ago, he needed to protect her. The pill didn’t always work. They’d been lucky the first time. He wouldn’t tie her down like that. The vision of his kids with Jennifer playing with Max and Rye’s and Callie’s assaulted him with a sweetness he couldn’t have imagined.
He pushed it ruthlessly aside. A child would be a cage for her. Her future was far bigger than being a wife and a mother.
He opened the condom. He hoped it wasn’t expired, because he wasn’t going out to the bar to see if Logan had one on him. He pushed his slacks down, freeing his rampaging cock. He was throbbing, desperate. There was already arousal seeping from the head, and he could practically feel the blood pulsing. With shaking hands, he slid the condom on. He managed it and then pressed his cock to her soaking flesh, making his dick wet and ready to fuck. He slid through her labia before lining himself up to her pussy.
She was so tight this way. She was tight and perfectly helpless underneath him. He wished he’d taken off her shirt. She should be naked, but there was no time. He had to get inside her. He pressed in and held her hips. This was what he’d needed for months.
Under him, Jennifer was trying to push back against him, trying to take him deeper inside.
“Calm down, love.” He ran his hands along her skin, reveling in the connection between them. One hand at her waist, he let the other force its way to her breasts. Her nipples were pebbles against his fingers. “Let me take control. Don’t fight me.”
She stilled beneath him. Her willingness to trust him gave him the control he needed. Her pleasure was at stake, and he didn’t intend to fail her. He pressed in, her pussy tight all around him. He pushed in until he was plastered against her, his legs flush against her thighs, her ass pressed against his stomach.
“You feel perfect,” he said as he twisted his hips. The sensation raced from his cock up his body.
He pulled out a short distance and then pressed back in. He loved the sound of her pussy sucking at his cock. Regretfully, he slid his hand back down her body and circled her waist for better support. He reached around to find her clit with his fingers. He pressed on the little nub in time with his thrusts. He wouldn’t last. She felt too good, and it had been far too long for him to last any length of time. He wanted her with him so badly. He circled his hips, seeking her G-spot while his fingers rubbed at her clitoris.
She went wild beneath him. Her whole body shook as she came. She pushed back as she screamed out her orgasm.
Her pussy spasmed around him, and he couldn’t hold back. His balls drew up, and he forced his cock as deep as he could go. His own moan filled the room as he came. He ground into her again and again, until he was empty. He let himself fall forward on top of her, his chest to her back. He let himself relax, a pleasant languor infusing his blood.
“Thank you, Stef,” she said, pressing her cheek up to his, seeking connection. “I know you don’t believe me, but I missed you. I missed you so much. I won’t leave again.”
He could feel her heart pounding against his, but now his sleepy pleasure was replaced with panic. What had he done? That hadn’t been sex. He’d made love to Jennifer again, and she was promising him things. She was saying exactly what he wanted to hear.
Stef pulled himself up and quickly cleaned up, tucking the used condom into a tissue and tossing it into the trash can. He righted his clothes and turned to her.
She’d managed to stand up, and she looked so young and sweet standing there.
“Too much, too soon, huh?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered. “I need to get you home. It’s getting late.”
She held her hands out. “Fine. I’ll play it your way.”
He quickly unbound her hands, and she pulled her pants up.
Stef did not miss the final phrase she uttered.
“For now.”
Chapter Nine
Alexei stopped and stared at the big screen outside his motel room. He felt a smile cross his face. The movie was something in black and white with an old American actor. He searched his memory. Cary Grant. It was a screwball comedy that he’d seen before, and it never failed to make him laugh.
There were at least twenty cars out in the parking lot of the drive-in portion of the Bliss Movie Motel. There were even a couple of people huddled in lawn chairs close to the snack bar. They held mugs of something steaming hot and passed popcorn between them. The rooms all around him had open curtains that people watched out of. He’d had to move quickly to not block the show.
Only one room was dark. His. He hoped Ivan was still sleeping.
Nick’s words were playing through his head. You don’t have to give up your whole life. I gave up mine. Listen to me, cousin. I wish I could go back to her, but there’s too much blood on my hands. Don’t make the same mistake.
He didn’t have a woman. He wouldn’t have a woman like the one Nick had given up. The most he could hope for was a night or two in a woman’s bed, and that was all he would ever get.
Or an afternoon spent doing something good. Yes, he could have that. He’d had that this day.
He paused outside the door because he knew what it meant to go in. It meant he had to go back to work. He preferred to stand in the cold and remember the afternoon he’d spent teaching two awkward preteens how to handle a hockey stick. That had felt good. It felt right to teach something that brought joy. He’d even enjoyed the time he’d spent with the crusty doctor, though the man hadn’t warmed to him at all.
It had been easy to forget for a moment why he was here. After he’d spent a few hours with the boys and the doctor, he’d headed back to Stella’s where he had dinner and then moved on to the tavern next door for a drink.
That was where he’d been reminded that he wasn’t here to make friends.
The girl had been there in the tavern. Jennifer. That was her name, and it looked like she wasn’t alone. He’d been surprised when the whole bar had stopped and a good portion of the patrons moved into a small hall where they kept whispering to each other and shushing anyone who talked too loud. When the door everyone was interested in had opened, a couple had emerged to triumphant shouts and catcalls, and one large man who claimed they’d ruined his desk forever.
He’d recognized her immediately. She was the brunette from the photo, the one they were looking for. His heart had seized as he realized that perhaps the job would not go as easily as he had hoped. The man with her had been shocked at first at the large crowd listening in on his lovemaking session, but he’d scooped the woman into his arms and scowled at everyone he passed. He was protective of the woman. He had to be the man who’d gotten her out of Texas. Stefan Talbot, the one Nick was worried about.
Alexei would have to get the woman alone. He would have to try to reason with her. Perhaps if he kept quiet about having found her, he could distract Ivan. Once he had the painting in hand, he could force them to leave quickly and with no bloodshed.
Cary Grant took a pratfall that had everyone laughing. What would it be like to live in this small town? Quiet and protected. If he was ordinary, he would march back to the diner and invite Holly to come out with him. He would buy her popcorn and make sure she could see the movie screen. He would treat her like a lady.
That wasn’t going to happen. He’d told his cousin the truth. There was no way he could back out now. He shoved the key into the lock and opened the door to his room. The best he could hope for was a good night’s sleep, with no dreams of blood and screams.
He closed the door behi
nd him quickly, not wanting to let the chill into the tiny room. It was quiet, with the single exception of the faucet in the bathroom running. He glanced around, but Ivan had woken up and was in the bathroom. The room was still neat as a pin with the singular exception of the bed Ivan had slept on. Both of their suitcases were where they’d been when he’d left, but Ivan’s was open.
A low hum came from the bathroom.
A chill went through him that had nothing to do with the cold outside. Ivan only hummed after a job, one he particularly loved. He only hummed after he’d drawn blood.
With reluctant hands, he pushed open the bathroom door.
“Watch it,” Ivan said. A wide grin was on his face as he washed blood off his skin. His shirt was off, showing his chest and its intricate tattoos. “Careful where you walk. I don’t want to get blood everywhere.”
Alexei’s stomach rolled. Lying in the bathtub was a pale, slim brunette, her brown eyes open but unseeing. Her throat had been slit by a professional.
“It wasn’t her,” Ivan said gruffly. “I thought I had gotten lucky. I picked her up outside a gas station when I went to fill the tank. She was trying to hitchhike. I thought she was trying to get away. Apparently, she’s some tourist who fought with her boyfriend. Bah, it looked like her.”
Alexei swallowed, trying desperately to contain his nausea. It was one thing to kill other thugs, but this was different. In the past, he’d killed rival mob members who were out to kill him. They were bad men and it didn’t bother him that he’d been their end. This…this would haunt him. This was flat-out murder, and he’d had a hand in it.
“We need to get rid of her before the cleaning crew comes in the morning,” Ivan said as he reached for a cigarette. He lit it quickly and seemed completely at ease as he looked down at his handiwork.
Alexei had to give him credit. Ivan was a professional. There wasn’t a drop of blood outside the tub. The woman’s body was small and fit into the tiny, utilitarian tub neatly. They could wash away the blood. They couldn’t wash away the body.
“Come, my friend, don’t look so down.” Ivan stretched his long limbs. “We’ll get rid of this one and start again tomorrow. She’s out there. We’ll find her. Don’t worry.”
Ivan walked out of the bathroom, mumbling something about a tarp. Alexei was left with a girl who couldn’t be more than twenty-five. She looked to be about the same age that Mikhail had been when a gangster had murdered him and left his body in the river. He didn’t know her name. His heart ached because someone out there would miss her.
And he knew how that felt.
* * * *
Sunlight filtered into Jen’s room. She could feel it on her face, but she wasn’t ready to open her eyes yet. She wanted to stay in the amazing dream she was having, the one where Stef didn’t fight her anymore, where he understood she was different from his mom and they would be okay. In her dream, Stef had kissed her and taken her to his room where he’d promised she’d never leave again.
Unfortunately, that had not been how her evening had ended. She took a deep breath and shifted, her mind playing out the fiasco that had happened after she’d gotten Stef to make love to her.
It had been utterly ridiculous for him to think for a second that she had a thing for James Glen. The cowboy was hot, but he had nothing on Stef. And Logan was even worse. Logan was still a kid. He was barely…twenty-two. Damn it. Logan was almost her age.
It wasn’t the same. Logan still lived at home, and she’d been on her own most of her life. Her mom had loved her, but she wasn’t exactly a “dinner on the table at six” mom. Jen had learned to take care of herself at a young age. She was surely more mature than Logan.
Now Zane Hollister and the rest of Bliss—she was questioning their maturity after their actions the night before. Who stood outside a locked door and listened in on two people making passionate, beautiful love? Who cheered when the door came open?
Of course, the proper way to handle such an awkward situation was to be brazen through it. She would have taken a bow, but Stef had to play the caveman. Stef, who had public sex in BDSM clubs, if the stories were correct. Stefan Talbot, Mr. Dark and Brooding Sexuality himself, had turned a bright red. He’d hauled her up into his arms and growled at anyone who got in his way. He’d had a few choice words to say to Zane, and then they’d been off. He’d shoved her on the back of the snowmobile and told her to hold on.
Then he’d dumped her in her room.
So much for making love.
She wasn’t giving up, though. Nope. She was thinking positive. She tried to pull the covers up. After talking to Callie, she was more certain than ever that all Stef needed was a little push. Of course, she’d thought that was what she’d given him when she’d leaned over Zane’s desk and let him use that ruler on her ass. She could still feel it. It had hurt, but there was something erotic about the pain.
There was nothing erotic about the chill, though. She tugged, but the blanket wouldn’t move. She sat up, and her heart melted, the chill of the morning gone the instant she saw the man who had fallen asleep at the foot of her bed.
“Stef?”
He came up so fast he started to roll off the bed. His body hit the hardwood floor, and he cursed. His hand came up to hold his head.
What was that silly man thinking? She held the covers back, offering him some warmth. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, but it was chilly. He still had to be cold. Though she expected a fight, he immediately crawled under the covers.
“Stay on your side, but open your legs,” he demanded in a husky voice.
The morning was looking up. She hauled one leg up slightly to give his hands entry. She screamed when it wasn’t his hands he put there.
Stef’s ice-cold feet found a place between her nice, warm thighs. “Please, Jennifer. I’m so cold.”
She growled but lowered her leg, making a nest for his cold feet. A chill went through her, but Stef sighed with pleasure. He huddled close to her, his body at a silly angle so he didn’t have to move his feet.
“I hate being cold.”
“Hello, maybe you shouldn’t live nine thousand feet above sea level.” Her teeth chattered as his ridiculously cold hands settled on her waist.
“I was born in Texas. Heat is in my blood, but I got to Bliss as fast as I could,” he said.
She was still cold, but the idea that her body heat was warming his gave her such pleasure she didn’t complain. This was what she wanted from him—intimacy. “Why didn’t you crawl into bed with me? It’s warm under the covers.”
His mouth turned down. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“You just meant to come in and stare at me while I slept? That’s very creepy of you.” She softened her words with a smile. He was weird and intense. She was cool with it. It was simply who he was. He could stare at a canvas for hours before he even opened a tube of paint. She remembered one afternoon where he’d stared at that blank sheet, and she’d stared at him, the hours rolling by as they were both lost in their own worlds. It had been a good afternoon.
“I’m not usually so weird,” Stef said, his voice calm, but she heard the gravity in it.
“Really?” She couldn’t help the sarcasm. He was absolutely the weirdest person she knew, and that was saying something. “Let’s see, one, you’re an artist, and a really well-known one. That’s strike one. Artists are weird. Two, you’re a Dom. You like to spank girls and tie them up, and there are things in that guesthouse that I don’t even know what they’re used for.”
His feet rubbed against her skin. “When did you go to the guesthouse?”
“Callie took me. I was curious. She even showed me where the peepholes and the hiding spots are. Per—vert. As for your third strike, you live in Bliss. You’re out. Own up to it.”
“I never claimed I was normal,” Stef replied. “But then, anyone who claims to be normal is probably lying or miserable because they don’t know their own natures. Humans are freaks. It’s better we a
ccept it. Are you going to deny that you liked your spanking last night?”
A warm rush of arousal poured over her. “Not on your life. Don’t misunderstand me, babe. I love every freaky inch of you. You might be a complete perv, but I wouldn’t have you any other way. If it makes you happy to sleep at the end of my bed like some crazy stalker, then I’m fine with it, but you could have crawled in with me.”
He pulled his feet away, and suddenly his hands cupped her face, and his eyes were a serious, stormy gray. “This is a bad idea, but I don’t think I can stay away from you.”
Finally, some progress. She snuggled close and was perfectly happy when his arms crept around her. “I don’t want you to. I never wanted you to.”
“You might after you figure out what I want,” he murmured. His hand stroked her hair as he spoke. “I want to train you. I want a Master/sub relationship. It’s all I can do, Jennifer. For the time it takes to clear up everything, I think we should play together. I’ll understand if you don’t want that. I think we’ll end up in bed either way.”
She didn’t want to stay out of his bed. And he was fooling himself if he thought all he wanted was a D/s relationship. “I’ve read up on BDSM. I might be a novice, but I know a little something.”
His hands were creeping up the tank top she was wearing. “Are you sure? I can be a bit demanding when it comes to play.”
He was already demanding. He already pushed and pulled her this way and that, and she wasn’t even getting regular sex for it. “I think I can handle you.”
“So young. So naïve.”
So full of shit. “Bring it on, Talbot.”
Something hard flinted across his face. “Fine. Show me your breasts.”
She threw the covers off and had that tank top over her head in a heartbeat. The room was still chilly, but the cold wasn’t what had her nipples puckering. She was finally in bed with Stef, and she hadn’t had to force him there.
“And your pussy.”
