by Jane Henry
Days had passed since then. Days when I’d harassed the prison for updates on Tad Warner’s status and insisted that I be allowed to see him. Finally, today, I’d get my wish.
If the fucking guards would fucking hurry up for once in their fucking lives.
I shot to my feet, unable to stand the wait any longer, wishing I had my phone or anything else to distract myself. I would go absolutely crazy in prison and I couldn’t help but wonder what toll this experience had taken on Ethan.
There was no warning before the metal door clanked open and a man in a dark green jumpsuit appeared in the doorway. His eyes were cast down to the ground, his cheeks scruffy with red-gold hair, and for a minute, he was utterly unrecognizable. One of his cheeks was slightly swollen and cast with the mottled yellow-blue color. Livid bruises ran the length of his forearms. And when he walked, his gait was confident, but deliberate—like he was just now getting used to walking without pain. He looked up as the guard turned and shut the door behind us, and his eyes met mine.
Oh, my Ethan.
I don’t know what expression I had on my face, but I was sure it wasn’t calm, cool, professional competence. Still, the devastatingly handsome grin he gave me in return was worth any loss of composure.
“Ms. Wright,” he teased in a husky voice. “What brings you by my humble abode on this fine morning? I’m afraid I don’t have any refreshments to offer you. Not quite up to my usual standards.” He gestured around the room with his cuffed hands and winced, like he’d caused himself pain with the movement.
It took all I had, in that moment, not to run to him, bury my face in his chest, and hold on so tightly that the guards wouldn’t be able to break us apart.
He played his part, I reminded myself. God, had he ever. Walking into this situation with no backup, without a moment’s hesitation for his own safety, was one of the bravest things I’d ever witnessed. And I wouldn’t fuck up his sacrifice now by failing to play my own role.
“Mr. Warner.” I stood by the straight-backed metal chair where I’d been sitting and grasped the chair back for dear life. “Are you feeling any better?”
“I’m fine,” he soothed, his eyes meeting mine again. “Better than ever, now.” Now that you’re here, his eyes seemed to say.
The loud clang of metal indicated that the guards had closed the door, and we were alone in this room, monitored by cameras to prevent us from touching, but able to speak freely as attorney and client without the guards overhearing.
“Thank God,” I breathed. “I was so worried. I can’t wait to get you home.”
He nodded, then leaned his shoulders against the wall furthest from me. I frowned. Why wasn’t he coming closer?
“I arranged for your release,” I blurted out. “They’re doing the paperwork. It might take a couple of hours, but… I wish they’d at least uncuff you.”
He smiled again, leaning his head against the wall. “Ah, but they love their procedures around here. You know how it goes. I’m trying to find the silver lining.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. I couldn’t imagine a silver lining to being cuffed like that, especially as bruised and tender as he appeared.
“Come sit down?” I asked, and he looked at me for a second before quirking his lips slightly.
“I’m fine where I am.”
What the hell did that mean?
“I have lots to tell you,” he continued, giving me a significant look. “Enough to keep Walker busy for days.”
“Oh. Well… Good.” I sat down in the chair, unable to take my eyes off him. “That’s really good.”
It had been his purpose in coming here, after all, and it would have been a fucking waste if he’d had so much happen without getting that information, but I found myself hardly caring about what he’d learned. I’d let the other Masters worry about that right now, because Ethan himself was my priority.
Why was he standing all the way across the room?
“They wouldn’t let me call you,” he continued, eyes to the ceiling. His tone was light and casual, but there was a rumble beneath the words that told me just how hard that had been for him. “You would think after all the years we’d been apart, I wouldn’t have missed talking to you while I was in here, right? I mean, it’s fucking crazy for me to miss you when we’d barely spent three days together in the past nine years. But all I wanted was to hear your voice.”
He shifted his eyes down to look at me, then, and there was a fire in his gaze that spoke of pain far beyond the physical. Odds were, he’d never tell me even half of what he’d been through over the course of this week, but it was clear he wasn’t the same man he’d been seven days ago. I knew, as well as anyone who hadn’t been in prison herself could, how hard the isolation behind bars could be, and how quickly despair could take hold. I needed to drive the shadows from his eyes.
“It is crazy,” I breathed, leaning toward him. I wanted more than anything to touch him, to hold him, but I knew I couldn’t. I had to convey everything I was feeling with my words. “But I feel exactly the same way.”
“Yeah?” he smiled, and a teasing glint appeared in the summer blue gaze. “I’ve gotta tell you, I have spent a lot of time thinking while I was in here.”
“I can imagine,” I whispered. “I’ve been thinking too. About forgiveness, and what’s really important.”
He laughed slightly, tilting his head back against the wall. “Did anyone ever tell you how sweet you are?” He looked at me again. “Because you are, you know.”
I hadn’t been expecting that. “Okay?”
“Sweet. Gorgeous. Devastatingly sexy.”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” he confirmed. “See, while I was in here, my thoughts were occupied by all the things I couldn’t wait to do when I got out of here. I decided, I want steak for dinner from La Marque.”
“The one on Fifty-Fourth?”
He nodded. “And I want the longest, hottest shower known to man.”
“Oh, I bet,” I said, putting my elbows on the metal table and leaning forward to rest my chin on my hands. I couldn’t imagine the culture shock of having your showers regimented.
“But before I do any of those things, Haven?” His voice had changed tone and I was startled by the intensity.
“Y-yeah? What do you need, Ethan? Anything you want.”
He smiled, slow and hot. “I want you. In my bed.”
I swallowed again. I’d already decided in favor of that, of course. He’d paid his debt to me—both by giving me back the money he’d taken from my parents, and by showing me just how much he’d changed by stepping into this hellhole voluntarily to free Max and Luis.
But Ethan didn’t know that. If the man had been making assumptions, I wasn’t going to make this easy for him.
“Is that right?” I said, folding my arms over my chest. “What makes you think I’d go?”
His voice shifted even lower, deeper, the rasp of his voice sliding over my skin. “Because you know I can make you scream my name.”
My breath caught, a tell-tale hitch that belied my stiff posture. The words were a bold challenge, an honest, straightforward claiming. They were proof that we’d moved way beyond deceit and trickery, and that my faith in him was justified.
“I’ve thought a lot about how sweet your pussy was the other night,” he continued conversationally. “I closed my eyes and I swear to God, I could practically taste it. It was fucking delicious.”
Oh. Dear. God.
“I imagined I was sitting on my bed at home, and you were standing in front of me in a hot little black and white dress giving me that little teasing smile I love. And while I watched, you pulled the dress up, just an inch at a time, and bared your skin and your sexy-as-fuck panties to me.”
Oh, God. I could see it too, like he was painting a picture in the air with his words. My mouth was hanging open and I tried my best to summon a cool, snarky response, but all that came out was, “Guh.”
&nbs
p; He smiled, dark and predatory. “I told you to remove your panties. Slowly. And do you know what happened next?”
I shook my head. I could guess. Hell, I was practically ready to do it right here and now, cameras and guards be damned. But I wanted to hear the words from his lips.
“You said no,” he whispered, and I blinked. Wow. His fantasy-Haven was pretty badass and had way more control than the real me had.
“But that was fine,” he said, his eyes burning into mine. “That was fucking perfect.”
“I-it was?”
“Mmm. Because I turned you around, put you over my knee, and spanked your ass for your disobedience.” He bit his lip, the first physical sign he’d shown that he was as affected by his words as I was. “And Haven? You wanted me to. So, so badly.”
I raised my hands to press my cold palms to my suddenly burning cheeks. I would want that. I hadn’t confessed it to anyone, ever, not even to him nine years ago, but I did want it. I craved it.
He didn’t move from the wall, but his eyes stalked me, cataloging my every movement, my every response. Ethan knew how to read people, and I knew he could read me right now.
Did he know that my panties were damp? Could he sense the way my nipples were beading beneath my blouse? Did he realize how badly I wanted him? Suddenly, I wanted him to know.
“Then what happened?” I demanded breathlessly.
“After that? After your ass was red, you mean? After you’d writhed on my lap until your pussy was dripping for me?” He smiled, innocent as an angel except for his wicked, wicked eyes. “Then I forced you to your knees on the floor.”
I was nearly hyperventilating, aching with want, and I could barely see him across the room, since my vision was turned inward, imagining the scene he projected.
“You took my cock in your mouth,” he said hoarsely. “Licked it like a popsicle that might melt at any minute, and then sucked me down the back of your throat. Jesus Christ, I was so hard. So, so hard. And I didn’t want to hurt you, I would never want to hurt you, but you grabbed my hands and put them on your head to let me know you loved it every bit as much as I did, that you wanted me to use you that way.”
I gripped the table so I could hold myself down to earth when the stunned arousal in my blood made me feel buoyant. I did want it. I did, I did, I did.
“I fucked your mouth,” he whispered, like the world’s most erotic confession, but the look in his eyes said he wasn’t repentant. Not for one single second. “You made the sweetest little noises, just like the noises you made when I ate you out the other night. You remember, Haven?”
I didn’t respond fast enough, apparently, because he repeated himself, his voice harder this time. “Do you, Haven?”
I nodded jerkily. God, of course I did. I’d deliberately tried not to think about it while he’d been away, knowing it would only make me miss him more, but his voice was a spell, an incantation, that conjured up that evening with perfect clarity. I could feel his mouth on my most intimate areas, could feel the powerful thrust of his tongue.
“Ethan,” I breathed.
“I want to do that again, Haven. Right now. Tonight. Over and over.” His hands were flat against the wall behind him now. And though they were still cuffed behind his back, it seemed like he was hanging onto the cinder-block surface for support. In a rush I realized that he was standing that far away because distance was the only way he could control himself.
“Enough,” I choked out, a cross between a whimper and a sigh. “Please. No more.”
He stared at me, nostrils flaring. “I want you in my bed, Haven,” he said, repeating his words from earlier. “Tonight. Every night. Will you?”
I looked at him steadily, then nodded once, twice. A bargain struck.
He smiled. “Thank Christ. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in here, it’s that I’m fucking done with waiting.”
I couldn’t have agreed more. I wanted everything he had to give me, and I wanted to give him everything in return. Most importantly, forgiveness.
Six
“I don’t give a fuck who hears you or what they think,” I growled in her ear, pushing her hands up above her head so I could capture the sweet skin of her neck between my lips.
Her breath caught, her small shoulders trembling as I suckled.
I was back in my room, and we were alone. I’d held myself back on the ride back to the penthouse. I’d kept myself in check when I came home, the other guys welcoming me with fist bumps. Even Xavier seemed pleased to have me home, and they’d all decided they’d wait to debrief me until the next day. I wanted to crawl into my bed and sleep, after I’d washed off the memory of where I’d been. Nothing like being away from the place you called home to make you really appreciate it when you returned.
Home. This place wasn’t just where I lived anymore, but my home, shared with my brothers-in-arms and now Haven.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. They’re gone,” she panted. “Sabrina promised me they’d be gone for hours.”
I released my lips from her skin and grinned at the light pink mark I’d left there. Fuck, I loved marking her. I swiped my tongue along her collarbone, inhaling her scent, and pressed my pelvis against her belly, feeling my rock-hard cock against her curves.
“You sure about that?” I breathed against her ear, before I drew the lobe between my teeth and bit gently. Her tremors made arousal pulse in my groin. “How do you know?”
“Sabrina texted me,” she whispered. “They went to get food. Said they’d give us some space and privacy.”
“Good to know,” I said. I owed them. “But I need to see for myself.” I released her wrists, and as she went to move them, I shook my head sharply. “You don’t move. You stay right where I put you. You move an inch, I’ll know, and the punishment you’re facing gets a helluva lot more intense.” Her pupils dilated, and I could see her nipples straight through the thin, filmy white top she wore but her arms stayed where I’d put them. I pointed my index finger at her. “You’re already getting your ass spanked for wearing that outfit out of this bedroom.” She’d changed since we got back from Bonneville and looked at me with a teasing glint in her eyes. The girl wanted her ass spanked.
And I wasn’t joking either. Her skirt barely covered her ass, the hem hitting mid-thigh, and when she bent over, like she’d deliberately done right in front of the others, I could see her pink silk panties on full display—fuck, I’d kill the other guys for looking. The blouse was see-through, the cami she wore under it clinging to her curves like a wet t-shirt. Her luscious, creamy skin was on full display.
I’d been fantasizing about taking her over my knee for a week. The second I’d laid eyes on her parading around the other men dressed like that, I knew I’d found a reason.
I moved quickly through the penthouse, making sure she was right, and no one was home. I didn’t give a fuck what they heard, but Haven did and what mattered to her mattered to me. As I moved through the house, a pleasant warmth wove its way through me. I never knew how much I’d taken my freedom for granted. I’d missed this place, the small family we’d built together, the familiarity and comforts of home. A folded throw blanket lay tossed over the arm of the chair where Caelan usually lounged and read. Pillows had been fluffed and arranged on the sofa, and I could tell the cleaners had been by. The place smelled clean and fresh, and not a speck of dust anywhere.
Home.
My throat got tight, but I pushed it away. Tonight, they’d given us time and space, and I’d use every fucking second. I made my way to the kitchen, confirming that what she said was right. No one was here.
“Told you,” she said, standing in the kitchen doorway. I spun around to look at her, surprised she’d actually defied me. Her half-lidded eyes met mine and she leaned one beautiful, curvy hip against the doorway. “Did you think I was lying?”
A sharp note of irritation colored my response. “Did you think I was?” I crooked a finger at her. “Get over here.”
&n
bsp; She blinked, as if suddenly realizing that maybe she’d taken this further than she’d intended, then pushed herself off the doorframe and shuffled over to me, like a naughty child about to face an angry teacher. When she stood in front of me I grasped her chin and lifted her eyes to mine. “I told you to stay there.”
She swallowed but her gaze didn’t waver. “And maybe I need you to make me.”
Without conscious thought, I grabbed hold of her arm, and snatched a stout wooden spoon from the crock on the counter on the way to the table. I spun her around, pressed her belly-down over the polished wood, and before she could protest, brought it down with a resounding smack against the underside of her ass. She squealed and squirmed, but I held fast and gave her three more hard whacks. “You need to know I can make you?” I asked her, punctuating my question with another firm spank. She wriggled and squirmed but I knew she needed this. She’d practically begged me. “This get your rocks off, sweetheart? Me punishing your ass?” I spanked her again, and her squeals made my cock strain against my pants. Fuck, I’d never spanked a girl with anything but my hand, but I was beginning to see the appeal. I rested the rounded curve of the spoon on her ass. “If I touch your pussy, will I find you dripping for me?”
She shivered. I lifted the spoon again and let it fall with a firm smack.
“Answer me.”
“Yes!” she panted, her voice strained. “God, yes.”
Still, she needed to know I meant what I fucking said. This was playing, yeah, but with a serious undertone. There was danger all around us, and if she couldn't obey me when we were alone in the penthouse, she wouldn't instinctively obey me when the stakes were higher. I needed to prove a point.
I leaned down and whispered against her ear. “I’m nowhere near done with you, babe. But if you ever fucking deliberately disobey me like that again, your ass gets bared for punishment. Understood?”
