Outback Master

by Lexxie Couper

  He reached toward the nightstand and she followed his progress, watching as he pulled a condom out of the drawer. Talk about prepared. Her sexy stranger had set up the room perfectly. She wondered what Andrew Shaw would think about the illicit activities taking place in his room.

  Wait…

  How did Harper know she would pick this room?

  The thought caught her unaware and a seed of doubt sprouted in the back of Amy’s mind.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t have time to take root, mainly because her stranger had decided to do a bit of rooting himself. Donning the condom, he placed the head of his cock at the opening of her pussy.

  She had only a moment to regret halting his anal play. Her damn reticence had cost her a new experience. Maybe she’d talk him into trying again later.

  After.

  Because there was no way she was stopping him now. He pressed in slowly as Amy struggled to suck air into her lungs. Her eyes hadn’t deceived her. He was definitely filling her in a way she’d never been filled before.

  Once he was fully seated, he paused for the briefest of seconds. “Hold on.”

  It was the only warning she received as he unleashed the same incredible strength and power he’d exposed her to all night.

  He pounded into her body, offering her no reprieve. Not that she wanted it. Amy lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, opening herself to him even more.

  Both of them groaned as he thrust in deeper.

  “So bloody good.” She dragged her nails along his back. Two could play the pleasure-pain game. He hissed sharply, but his gaze told a different tale as it narrowed with hunger, his lust bared before her.

  “Don’t come,” he warned her.

  “What? Fuck that.”

  He drove in harder, then stalled. “I mean it, Amy. You’re going to do what I say at least once tonight. I’ll tell you when to come. Don’t you dare do it a second before that.”

  He punctuated his demand with a thrust that cut too deep, too close to the hot zone.

  “Not. Sure. I. Can. Stop.” Each word was drawn from her on a harsh breath.

  “Just a minute more, Amy. Just a minute and we’ll come together.”

  His demand, combined with the slightest tinge of a plea, touched her. She closed her eyes. “Yes Sir.”

  “No. Fuck. I changed my mind. Call me Andrew. Say my name. Say it and come.”

  She exploded into a million pieces, her lips forming the word. “Andrew!” she cried. “God, Andrew. Andrew.”

  Tremors racked her frame, shaking her bones so strongly she feared she’d break. Had she ever had an orgasm before now? There was no way she could compare those lukewarm imposters to this climax.

  Andrew followed her into oblivion, his arms tightening as he bucked, his cock jerking with its release.

  “Jesus,” he said breathlessly. He kissed her lightly, his lips lingering despite the fact both of them were gasping. It was the sweetest of kisses.

  Finally, regretfully, he released her lips, lifted and moved out of her body. She pressed her legs together, wishing there was some way to hold on to the feeling of being filled by him forever.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him pull off the condom and toss it into the small trashcan beside the bed.

  Then, as always, he used his undeniable strength to put Amy where he wanted. He twisted her boneless body to its side until he was spooning her. Their bodies curved together as if they were puzzle pieces, a perfect fit.

  Amy and Andrew.

  Andrew.

  His name niggled at her sleepy, sex-overloaded brain, as did the restraints and the sex toys in the wrong room.

  Andrew.

  Amy’s eyes flew open.

  Mother of God, she’d just slept with Harper’s brother!

  She was naked and twisted up like a pretzel with Andrew Shaw.

  The truth of what she’d done crashed down on her like atomic bombs from an attacking army. Tonight wasn’t a setup, though it definitely qualified as a surprise. Andrew had come home early and, in her sleep-deprived state, she’d convinced herself Harper had hooked her up with a fantasy lover. Had that answer actually made sense to her at some point?

  Fuckity-fuck-fuck.

  She’d fucked up.

  And she fucked her friend’s brother.

  Bloody hell. She was so fucked.

  And while she knew now she’d made a whopper of a mistake, one question still remained.

  Who the fuck did he think she was?

  Chapter 3

  Andrew rose much earlier than he expected the morning after his incredible night with Amy. He studied the tired face of his midnight visitor. She slept the sleep of the dead. He didn’t blame her. If he weren’t so jet-lagged, and if his internal clock wasn’t so screwed up, he’d probably still be down for the count as well.

  Rising, he crossed to his dresser and dug around for a pair of sweatpants. Throwing them on, he walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth and shave. His thick beard grew in quickly and it had been at least four days since his face had seen a razor thanks to the trip from hell. His onscreen persona was always clean-shaven, so he wasn’t used to the scruffy man in the mirror.

  He grimaced at his reflection. The circles under his eyes were too dark, his face lined with tiredness. He saw a nap in his very near future. It would probably take him a day or two to get his system sorted out.

  One thing he’d never managed to overcome with his job was the adjustments to the ever-changing time zones. No matter how many cross-country journeys he made, he still suffered a sort of day-after hangover, struggling for twenty-four hours to adapt to the new time.

  For a moment he considered calling Mike, but dismissed the idea. There was no way he was giving his cocky friend yet another opportunity to rub Andrew’s nose in something. Actually, it would serve Mike right if Andrew simply avoided his calls for a few days. His best friend was as meddlesome as a tabloid reporter. It might be fun to make Mike suffer for a while, wondering how his night with Amy turned out.

  Amy. His mind whirled over everything that had happened last night. She’d pulled him out of his misery, giving him some of the best sex of his life. He wasn’t sure what made her different from the women he usually hooked up with at Velvet Chains. Perhaps it was just as she’d said. She didn’t submit easily. He typically played with the same subs at the club. They were well-trained, obedient. Boring. He missed the challenge.

  Amy had pushed him out of his all-powerful Dom role and forced him to work for his reward. She wasn’t passive. Instead, she was refreshing, fun. Mike would have a field day with that knowledge.

  Despite her obvious inexperience, he hadn’t pulled any punches, hadn’t handled her with kid gloves. And she’d taken to his rough touches like a rock star to the spotlight.

  He returned to the bedroom. Picking up his phone from the nightstand, he took one last look at the bed. His midnight visitor was even prettier in daylight.

  He rolled his eyes. Christ. He was acting like a smitten teenager with his first girlfriend.

  Get a grip, Shaw.

  It was just sex. Incredible, blow-your-balls-off sex. But just sex nonetheless.

  Amy showed no signs of rising soon, so he headed for the kitchen. He needed coffee to clear his head. The bright light of morning and the few hours of sleep he’d managed to snag were bringing too much clarity to his not-quite-as-tired mind. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what.

  Heading down the hallway, he glanced in the guest room as he passed—

  He paused.

  There was an unfamiliar suitcase resting open on the bed. Amy’s? Had she been so certain of her success with him that she’d packed a bag?

  The idea bothered him. Entering the room, he casually looked to see what she’d brought with her. The clothing didn’t look like the stuff a woman would use to seduce a man. No sexy lingerie or revealing outfits. In fact, with the exception of one pretty hot leather miniskirt, there was nothing m
ore than jeans and regular tops, a bathroom bag and a travel book about Chicago.

  What the hell? It appeared Amy had come here straight from the airport. Maybe he’d place a call to Mike after all. Somehow the pieces to this puzzle weren’t fitting together. Time to ask some questions.

  Andrew continued to the kitchen, filled the coffeepot with water and counted out twelve scoops. He added another for good measure. Something told him he needed a strong brew today. A quick glance at the clock confirmed it was almost nine. Not too early to call his friend.

  He picked up his phone and dialed. Mike answered with a chipper “hello”. Idiot man had always been a morning person.

  “Hey, Mike. What’s Amy look like?”

  “What?”

  Andrew sighed. “The girl you want to fix me up with. What does she look like?”

  There was a slight pause on the other end. “Never known you to be so shallow, Andrew. Why does it matter?”

  “It doesn’t. I’m just curious. Describe her.”

  Mike started rattling off a list of physical attributes that basically told him nothing. “Brown hair, brown eyes, nice figure, medium height.”

  The adjectives were too bland for Amy’s chestnut tresses, chocolate-brown eyes and curves, but they still fit. “Does she have an accent?”

  “What the hell kind of question is that?”

  Andrew gritted his teeth. “A pretty fucking simple one. Yes or no?”

  “She doesn’t have a discernable one. I mean, she’s an Army brat and she spent some time in the South. Every now and then I catch a trace of a twang, but it’s nothing to write home about.”

  “So she’s not Australian?”

  Mike chuckled. “What the hell are you talking about? Are you drinking already?”

  “No. Listen. I gotta go. Talk to you later.”

  “Are you going to explain—”

  Andrew clicked the phone off in the middle of Mike’s question.

  Who the fuck was upstairs in his bed?

  He’d accused her of breaking in, but she’d claimed to have a key. If Mike didn’t give it to her, then who did?

  Harper. The only other person with a house key was his sister.

  Shit.

  The Australian teacher.

  Harper had mentioned the woman several times in passing over the past year. Something about starting a pen pal program.

  He tried to recall if Harper had ever said the woman’s name. He was sure she had, but it simply hadn’t stuck. He really needed to work on his paying attention skills.

  Great. So now he knew who was in his bed. Problem was he still didn’t know why she was there or where Harper was. He reached for his phone once more and dialed his sister’s number. It took him straight to voicemail.

  “Harper. It’s Andrew. Why the fuck is Amy here? And where the fuck are you? Call me back.”

  He clicked off the phone and cursed his temper. She’d never call him back now.

  Andrew retrieved his laptop from the front hall where he’d left it last night and fired it up on the island in the kitchen. Then he pulled over a stool. A quick check of his email confirmed what his producer had said yesterday. Filming would be postponed for not quite a week and if the monsoon did too much damage, they’d have to fall back and punt, find another locale.

  Harper had said her so-called conference would last one week. Now he was wondering if that was where she really was. Why would she invite a friend to visit from Australia, then leave town?

  She wouldn’t.

  He racked his brain for an answer, but nothing came. He glanced upward. One person knew what was going on and she was sleeping in the room above his head. Since it didn’t appear Harper was going to answer his questions, maybe it was time he and Amy had a little heart-to-heart.

  Time for the moment of truth. Climbing the stairs, he headed toward his room.

  He was surprised when he spotted Amy, fully dressed and sitting on the edge of his bed, talking on the phone. He paused at the doorway. She hadn’t noticed him.

  “What the hell am I supposed to tell him?” she asked the other person on the phone.

  Him who? Him him?

  “I understand that, but…” She paused, obviously listening to something the other person was saying. “Okay. I’ll try. Yeah. Sure. I promise.”

  Amy’s shoulders sagged as she sighed and he wondered who she was talking to. Was she talking to Harper? About him?

  He stepped into the room. Amy’s eyes widened when she spotted him.

  “Um, listen. I have to go. Give my love to Thomo and Blue. See you later.”

  She disconnected the phone quickly and turned it off.

  “Important phone call?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. Just checking in back home.” He couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes wandered away from his. Amy was a lousy poker player.

  “I noticed your suitcase in the guest room.”

  She nodded, but didn’t offer an answer. Her eyes, which had been so warm and friendly last night, seemed leery this morning. He walked across the room, standing in front of her. He casually took her phone from her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, trying to grab it back.

  Andrew flicked it on. Fucking security lock. “Who were you talking to?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Sweetheart, you made it my business when you broke into my house and made yourself at home in my bed.”

  Amy bit her lower lip. He was being an asshole, but he was tired and starting to worry about his sister.

  “I told you. I didn’t break in. I have a key.”

  He nodded slowly. “That’s right. The key. Who gave it to you?”

  “A friend.”

  Andrew’s temper exploded. “Goddamn it, Amy. I’m not playing around. Who gave you the fucking key?”

  Apparently he wasn’t the only one who’d woken up in a bad mood. Amy rose from the bed, placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward, her gaze narrowed. “Who did you think I was last night?”

  Her question caught him unaware. “Someone else.”

  “Obviously. Do you make it a habit to chain strange women to your bed and fuck them senseless?”

  A nasty grin formed. “You weren’t exactly fighting me off, angel.”

  “Funny. Those scratches on your face seem to say differently.”

  They could spend all day arguing over all the ways last night was wrong…and oh so right. Andrew didn’t have time for that.

  “You shaved.” Her comment took him off guard.

  Andrew rubbed his jaw, touching the smooth skin. “So?”

  “I recognize you now.”

  She knew him? “How?”

  “I looked you up online. Googled your name and saw a few short clips from your show. I thought your eyes looked familiar last night, but I was jet-lagged and not thinking very clearly. The beard threw me.”

  “Where’s Harper?”

  Amy’s face lost its color, her flushed cheeks fading to white. “Harper?”

  “Don’t play stupid. Where’s my sister? Is that who you were talking to on the phone?”

  Amy released a long sigh and sank on to the mattress. “I don’t suppose you’ll just take my word when I say she’s fine.”

  He crossed his arms. “You’re right. I won’t. Tell me where she is.”

  “She asked me not to. And I promised I wouldn’t.”

  Andrew frowned. “Harper wouldn’t do that. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

  Amy shrugged. “I guess you do now.”

  He tried to figure out why Harper would skip town without telling him. His mind drifted back to a disagreement they’d had a few weeks earlier. Harper had said something about needing to get away. He’d offered to take her on location with him, but she’d said she was twenty-five and more than capable of taking a vacation on her own. He had tried to convince her it was no fun traveling alone. Eventually she just let the conversation drop and he thoug
ht she’d given up on the idea.

  Apparently she hadn’t.

  Andrew sat down on the bed next to Amy. He wasn’t making progress with his asshole routine. Time to turn on the charm. He reached out and grasped her hand. Amy accepted it, though suspicion filled her eyes.

  “All I’m asking is where she is, Amy. It’s not like I’m going to fly off to parts unknown to find her.”

  “Actually, that’s exactly what she said you’ll do.”

  “She’s wrong.”

  Amy gave him a grin he instantly distrusted. “Then why do you need to know where she is?”

  His grip tightened. “Is she in the country?”

  Amy didn’t reply, her gaze holding steady on his, offering him no clue. Why was Amy here when Harper wasn’t?

  The truth crashed down on him like an avalanche. “Motherfucker. She flew to Australia, didn’t she?”

  Amy tried to hold steady, but this time, he caught her slight wince. His sister had taken off halfway across the goddamn planet.

  “Where in Australia?”

  Amy tried to retrieve her hand, but he refused to let go. “Where?” he repeated. “Is she at your house?”

  More silence met his question.

  “Fine. I’ll find her myself.”

  “How?” she asked.

  He didn’t have a clue. He didn’t know Amy’s last name, didn’t have any idea where she lived in Oz, nothing. “You’re going to tell me.”

  She laughed. “I already told you I wouldn’t. Australia’s a bloody big country, you know? If you’re going to go over there to look for her, you better start now. Should only take you a few…dozen years or so.”

  “Thanks for the geography lesson, but I’m not going off on a wild goose chase. I won’t need to. You’ll tell me everything I need to know. I can be very persuasive when I need to be.”

  She didn’t bother to respond, her smirk tweaking his nerves. “I’d really love to hang out and chat, but I need to get going. Looks like I need to find a new place to stay since my holiday home is already occupied.”

  Now it was his turn to grin. “You’re not going anywhere. In fact, you’re my collateral. Until you tell me where my sister is or until Harper comes home, you’re staying right here where I can keep an eye on you. Consider yourself under house arrest.”