by Christy Poff
"Forgive me, Mistress,” he said, immediately removing the rest of his clothes. Brett presented himself, Ainsley voicing her approval.
"I want you to remove my clothes, shackle me to that table and we'll go from there."
"Yes, ma'am,” he said before lovingly removing her silk blouse. Heat coursed through him at the sight of her naked breasts and extremely firm nipples. “Will my wife pierce her nipples?"
"Only if you'll go with me."
"You've got a deal,” he replied enthusiastically.
"Good,” she said before she gasped. Brett took one nipple, gently applied pressure with his teeth then brushed the tip of his tongue over it while his thumb teased the other.
Her hands clenched in his hair, Ainsley held him to her. Her breath caught when his hands went to the waistband of her skirt. Loosening it, he let it drop to the floor around her ankles before he slipped his fingertips between her gorgeous body and the skimpy G-string she wore.
"Rip it off,” she ordered.
A quick snap followed by a second one caused her to melt in his arms. His hands squeezing her ass sent her reeling, heat coursing through them both. He lifted her off the floor then carried her over to the table she'd motioned to earlier. Gently, he stretched her out, laving her nipples more, feasting on his wife.
It took him a short while before he had her shackled to the table, her body enticing him to be disobedient while overstepping his role as slave but his wife drove him to do things he had never dreamed of—or had he? Brett couldn't get enough of her, needing to taste her. He groaned looking at her.
"Tell me what to do next."
"I'm at your mercy, slave. I will allow you to use your imagination."
"Oh, my God, Ainsley."
She gasped feeling his tongue exploring her pussy. Her reaction to this became so strong she could feel her heart beating. He tortured her senses, Ainsley unable to do anything but let her body react to the touch of the man she loved more than her own life.
The more he tortured her senses, the more she wanted him. Ainsley arched her body to meet him, the restraints holding her firmly in place and creating more frustration. I married a perfect gem...
"Tell me, Mistress."
"I want you to take me exactly where I took you the other night."
"Anything for you, wife,” he said. “I love you too much to disobey. Is there anything else?"
"No,” she gasped, “just do it."
"Yes, Mistress of mine. I love you."
Before she could respond, he buried his cock deep in her body. He made sure he found her most sensitive spot and when he did, he pulled her closer. Holding onto her body's unrestrained reaction to this, he watched her shake uncontrollably.
"Brett, my..."
"Call to me, Ainsley. Scream my name while I take you exactly where you want to be. I want to see your fight to hold me go so far over the edge you can't handle it."
Ainsley fought the shackles as he wanted, needing desperately to touch him. She cried out his name several times before she could no longer take his siege on her body.
Brett had made sure when he placed her feet into the shackles that he would have nothing impeding access to his wife's pussy. He eased back then thrust into her with a relentless drive, pounding her body as he had the night before, only this time he could use his hands. His fingertips pinched her nipples at the height of her orgasm, Ainsley screaming his name.
"Brett!"
"More, Ainsley, more."
* * * *
Lightning flashed through Ainsley's mind each time she crested the waves of ecstasy bathing her body. Swimming from the heat between them, Ainsley's body languished in Brett's raw sexual power. The more Brett took her, the more she fought her restraints. Her body craved his begging for more of his touch.
"Master!” she screamed.
"Yes, slave?"
Her scream echoed through the quiet house. Brett continued his siege of his wife, something driving him—his overwhelming need to possess her, her heart, her soul and her body.
She threw her head back and forth while fighting the restraints holding her to the unforgiving table. Her chest moved up and down working to breathe. His lips covered her nipple, Brett's cock deep within her. Suddenly, he sensed a change and looked at his wife, passed out though he could still feel tremors coursing through her beautiful body.
Slowly, he released her hands then he pulled her body against his, holding her to him. He freed her ankles, his cock still impaling her. He carried her to what he took to be her bedroom, though at this point, he didn't care as long as he found a bed. Once inside it, he stretched her drenched body out on the bed then slowly withdrew his shaft from her pussy.
"I love you, Ainsley Quincannon,” he whispered, his decision made.
* * * *
Peter Holmes left a trail down the Atlantic Coast then across the South—his trail heading west. He felt things heating up from various items he found on the net and knew it would not be long before the police figured it out, though it surprised him the Feds hadn't picked up on his actions yet.
He knew he had to get to the others before the information hit the air or the authorities began getting together and putting out alerts. Then he'd take care of the one who'd driven him to become his present self.
Holmes couldn't wait to see her again so he could finally teach her a lesson. No one got away with telling him no.
"The third time will be the charmer,” he said, looking around the city of Atlanta. His target would be at her favorite haunt located in Underground Atlanta. Some people never learn.
* * * *
Brett slid from his wife's side then covered her with a sheet. Red satin and sexy, he got turned on gazing at how the soft material hugged her body. He pulled himself away long enough to take a shower. He slipped into silk boxers on the slim chance she might have a household staff then took a self-guided tour of the house. Besides being curious about his new home and the secrets it held about his wife, he needed to be familiar with its layout in case they had an unforeseen visitor.
Brett took a deep breath, his investigative mind taking over. Even though he wasn't a police investigator, he and Jim Pearson had worked together on enough cases where some of Pearson's talents had rubbed off on him. At this point, he'd use every resource available to him.
He picked up his jacket and shirt from where he'd left them the night before. Obviously, we have no staff or they have time off. He laid the garments over their suitcases and continued looking around. He loved the house he figured had been built in the mid-1800s. It had charm and elegance, the opposite of his Spanish-influenced home in Yorba Linda or the New York City loft he'd left behind.
Finding the kitchen, he located a coffeemaker and everything needed for morning coffee. Looking further, he discovered some breakfast pastries in the freezer. A few minutes later, he took a tray with breakfast upstairs.
Once in the room, he set the tray on a nearby table then sat on the side of the bed.
"Wake up, sleepyhead,” he whispered, between nibbling on her earlobe.
"Mmm,” she said, stirring. “Morning."
"Hi."
"I could get used to this."
"Good because I intend to spoil you,” he said, giving her a cup of coffee. She pushed herself up, the sheet falling to her waist, her breasts inviting his touch. Instead of touching her, he placed the tray across her lap.
"Breakfast in bed—perfect."
"Shall I feed you, Mistress?"
Ainsley smiled. She put her hand to his face needing the contact. She pulled him to her, their lips meeting.
"I love you, Brett."
"I love you, too."
She gazed at him, Brett smiling.
"What?"
"You have the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen,” he said.
"So do you. I love bright expressive eyes that sparkle no matter what,” she told him. “I see you've looked around."
"Yes, the house is amazing."
/> "And they say sex isn't worth it."
"What?"
"Remember I told you I got the house when my master died and left me everything? Besides this, I inherited millions in assets plus several properties. You've married a very wealthy woman. When the will became public, some of San Francisco's elite said I got it all because I was a good lay. They didn't know how deeply in love we were and didn't care. It seems I threaten them because I'm now in their social circle. What they do not know—I don't care. They do not invite me to their parties and I sure as hell don't invite them to mine."
"Good, I don't want to share."
"After last night? Neither do I. No one has ever made me pass out like I did with you."
"Again, I say good!"
They finished breakfast then Ainsley took Brett on a tour of her favorite haunts in San Francisco—all off the usual tourist map.
* * * *
"This is where I come when I want to submit,” Ainsley said as they entered Midnight Pleasures. “This is also where it happened."
Brett pulled her closer, calming her. It amazed him how they instinctively knew what the other needed.
"If you want to leave..."
"No, I want you to meet Diego plus I want you to see my world. It's a huge part of me and I want you to be a part of it. That's an order, slave."
"Then how can I refuse?"
"Good, you always know the right things to say."
"Ainsley, how are you?” a strange voice said, greeting her.
"Diego, I'm better,” she said, then gave him a kiss. “I want you to meet my husband."
"Husband? When?"
"Yesterday,” she beamed, “Diego, Brett Quincannon."
"Pleasure,” Brett said.
"Good to meet you, although I have to admit I'm in shock. It's so quick."
"I know, Diego, but it's right."
"I hope so,” he whispered, then gave her another kiss.
"Is my room available?” she asked.
"Are you sure? I mean..."
"Brett knows everything. I want him to see it and I need to face what happened."
Diego nodded then led them to Ainsley's room and unlocked the door.
"It's been locked ever since that night,” he explained. Ainsley entered but unknown to her, Diego stopped Brett, catching his arm.
"Take care of her,” he counseled, “she's fragile."
"I will,” Brett promised. “I will."
* * * *
"Where the hell is Cannon?” a voice bellowed.
"He's taking care of personal business."
Alex Barton didn't like dealing with his boss. He had given Brett Cannon an extended leave of absence but had yet to inform his boss.
"He's just got to Los Angeles and he's already taking off?"
"He told me he had to go back to New York—an emergency of some kind."
"As soon as you hear from him, tell him to call me."
"Sure,” Barton said. “Uh, one thing..."
"What?"
"He wants to retract the sex piece from New York."
"No way—not with the ratings it garnered. Besides, I want him on other things."
"Yes, sir."
* * * *
Jim Pearson called a colleague of his at the FBI.
"Kane."
"Eric, Jim. How are you?"
"Good, what do you have?"
"You know me so well,” Pearson acknowledged, both men laughing.
"Well?"
"I've got information for you that could make your career better."
"Tell me more."
Jim Pearson gave him everything he and Brett had been able to compile on The Lasher as their perp was becoming known as.
"And you say this guy is on his way back to California?"
"And his first victim."
"You say he kills after the second attack. Why is she so special?"
"It seems she told him no."
"Ah, the hit to the fragile male ego."
"You got it."
"Where is she?"
"Quincannon's with her."
"She should be under protection."
"Then you obviously don't know Brett. He married her and I guarantee the entire military couldn't get past him to get to her."
"I hope you're right,” Kane said. “I'll put out a request for any information on back injuries up to eighteen months ago and see if we can figure out where he'll hit next."
"Down South."
"How do you figure?"
"He has a specific agenda he's following. He'll head down the East Coast then across the South to the West Coast."
"Interesting."
"I thought you'd appreciate it."
"Keep in touch,” Kane said.
"You, too. I'll let you know if Brett comes up with any more."
"Good idea."
Pearson hung up, grateful for a good working relationship with Kane. They had a rare partnership, one Jim valued since the locals and the Feds usually had jurisdictional problems and did not get along.
"Hopefully, this works."
Chapter 8
Weeks of sex-filled peace passed, Brett and Ainsley totally wrapped up in each other. They split time between both homes—life perfect. Brett monitored the situation involving Holmes and kept in contact with Pearson on a daily basis. He checked in with his boss but didn't like the answer the network head kept giving about the retraction.
They took one weekend and went to a quiet bed-and-breakfast in the valley, where they decided to go on a wine-tasting tour of several large vineyards. At the last one they visited, Brett found an older man standing to the side watching the small group partake of his pride and joy. He noticed sadness in the man's eyes and found a way to start a conversation with him.
Up in years, he wanted to sell the operations and property since he had no heirs to leave it to. After a brief conversation, they disappeared into the man's office where Brett signed an agreement of sale pending their lawyers checking it out. The man shook his hand extremely happy with the way things turned out for him and especially since Brett made a proviso that the entire staff remain on until they retired or such time as Brett found someone to take their places.
"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mister Quincannon."
"It has been, Mister Grove. I appreciate the fact you'll remain on until you're ready to leave."
"It's a good partnership, though I have moved to a smaller home on the edge of the property. It wasn't part of the sale because I intend to see my days out there."
"I expect you to visit often though and I won't make any drastic changes without speaking with you first."
"That will be fine but I won't object if you choose to rename it and create a new logo."
"I'll think about it. For now, I'm happy with the way things are."
"I'll leave you to your new acquisition. The staff's been given time off due to the tour—an annual bonus. Once the cleaning crew has finished, they will be off too, so enjoy."
"Thank you, sir,” Brett said, devilment in his eyes.
"I see another plot hatching—it's in those Irish eyes of yours."
"Surprise wedding gift to my wife."
"Congratulations, she's a lovely woman. I'll make sure a bottle of champagne awaits you in the private tasting room in the wine cellar."
"You're an old romantic,” Brett accused.
"Damned straight. You have a gorgeous wife. Treat her right."
"I do, sir. I definitely do."
Brett watched Grove walk away then get into a limo and leave. He rejoined Ainsley.
"What was that all about?"
"Nothing really. I asked the owner about champagne."
"And?"
"He sent me to his wine cellar to taste some."
"William Grove? That's odd."
"Why?” Brett asked, curious.
"I've heard he's a bit of a hermit. I don't know if he ever leaves the vineyard."
"He didn't strike me as the he
rmit type."
"And what did he strike you as?"
"A sentimental romantic."
"I don't know,” she said.
"Let's go see the wine cellar."
* * * *
After they took a brief tour of the winery, vineyards and the beautiful mansion, they found the wine cellar.
"Brett, aren't we invading the man's privacy? I mean..."
"Ainsley, my love, calm down. It's all right—really, it is,” he told her, trying to hide a devilish smile.
"I'll take your word for it but..."
Once inside the ornate wine cellar, both fell quiet, awed by what surrounded them.
"My God, Brett, this is amazing."
"Isn't it?” he agreed. He found the chilled bottle of champagne Grove had promised him, along with two flutes. He popped the cork, poured the bubbly then handed her a glass.
"A toast."
"To?"
"The beautiful woman I married, my magnificent mistress and to the new owner of this glorious vineyard and winery."
"Hear, he—What did you say?"
"My wedding gift to you."
"But, Brett..."
"I've always wanted one and to share it with you is the perfect fantasy."
"Do you know what one of mine is?"
"What?"
"Licking champagne off your gorgeous body."
"Your wish, Mistress."
* * * *
Several days later, Brett and Ainsley Quincannon moved into their latest acquisition. Brett put the house in Yorba Linda on the market in order to centralize his life with his anchor.
"Brett, you don't have to do this."
"I want to. We barely use the house considering we spend all our time up here, so..."
"I see,” she said.
"What?"
"I don't want you changing your life for me. You came into this relationship with a career, a home..."
"And I found where I want to be and that's with you."
"Brett, I..."
"I want you to dominate everything in my life. I want you to be in control of every aspect of it. I willingly submit my existence to you, Mistress Ainsley.” Brett dropped to his knees, taking her hand. Ainsley not only felt the heat between them rising but every emotion Brett possessed.
"If you are sure this is what you truly want, then I want to do something."
