He expected her to argue, to pitch a fit, to wage a battle similar to the one they’d engaged in the previous evening. His damn cock actually started to thicken at the thought.
He should have known better. Amy hadn’t done a single predictable thing since stripping off her clothes and crawling between his sheets.
Instead, she smiled, looking very pleased by his threat. “Fine. I don’t have enough money for a hotel anyway.” She stood, though he still kept hold of her hand. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go unpack my things in the guest room.”
“Oh. Did I forget to mention? You’ll be staying in this room. With me.”
Amy feigned a yawn. “Been there, done that.”
“And you’ll be doing it again.”
She started to tug against his grip in earnest, but he held firm. “Not in this lifetime, hotshot. Last night you got lucky because I was tired and not thinking straight. Today’s a different game.”
“That’s right.” He twisted her hands behind her back, securing them there in one of his then reaching into the nightstand drawer and pulling out a pair of handcuffs. He snapped then in place easily, despite Amy’s struggles. “This game is completely new.”
Amy’s head spun. Andrew was keeping her here? In his room?
And he thought she’d be resistant?
Andrew really didn’t understand the difference between punishment and bloody good fun. His high-handed ways were slightly annoying, but they were nothing she couldn’t deal with. She’d held her own against Thomo and Blue for years, so this Yank had another think coming if he thought he was going to run roughshod over her.
Besides, he was playing completely into her hand. She needed a place to stay in Chicago the next two weeks and sharing his king-sized bed would be no hardship. In fact, despite the cuffs at her wrists—how hot were they?—she’d say the morning had turned out much better than she’d expected.
She’d woken up in a full-fledged panic, wondering what the hell she was supposed do. Instinct overpowered intelligence and before she could think through why she shouldn’t call Harper, her friend was on the other end of the line.
It had been on the tip of her tongue to confess to the misunderstanding that had led to a night of amazing sex, but Amy wasn’t sure how Harper would feel about her friend sleeping with her brother. Besides, Harper sounded so happy and excited, she hated to say anything to ruin her friend’s vacation.
Just because she’d epically fucked up everything, there was no reason to take Harper down with her. Instead, she’d simply told her friend that Andrew had returned early. She wasn’t sure what she had expected Harper to say, but she was surprised when her friend begged her to continue to hide the fact she was in Australia.
How was Amy supposed to stay in Harper’s house without confessing to Andrew who she was? Although she’d suspected—and rightly so—that Andrew would figure it out on his own eventually.
Then Andrew had walked in. One look at his pissed-off face and she’d begun trying to mentally calculate how much money was in her bank account and how high she’d have to charge up her credit cards to foot the bill for a hotel room.
Her conscience nagged, telling her it was wrong to sleep with Harper’s brother. Fortunately, she’d always been very good at justifying most of her questionable actions. After all, Harper was forcing her to take this path as Amy was simply trying to protect her friend’s secret.
God. She was pathetic.
And still bloody horny.
Andrew had appeared last night with that Zac Efron-looking scruff he’d sported in The Lucky One and Amy had been a goner. Even without the short beard, Andrew was entirely too good-looking for her peace of mind.
“Start walking,” Andrew said, pushing her toward the doorway. “I’m feeling the need for a hearty breakfast. Gonna have to build up my strength. Then you and I will spend the rest of the day in bed—getting better acquainted in between naps while we recover from our jet lag. By the way, you’ll be chained to the headboard. Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect.” She struggled not to laugh when Andrew frowned at her response. God, he really was making this all too easy. “And just so you know, you’re not going to trick me into telling you anything about where I live.”
His grip on her arm tightened. Amy’s stomach clenched. She was a sucker for an alpha male.
They walked in silence down the hallway. Amy caught a glimpse of her suitcase in the guest room and felt like dancing. Her trip was saved after all. She wouldn’t go broke paying for a hotel room and she would be treated to night after night of nonstop, no-holds-barred sex with Andrew.
Could life get any better?
As they approached the kitchen, the sweet smell of coffee drew her straight to the counter. “If I promise to behave, will you take the handcuffs off and let me have a cup of coffee? Even hardcore prisoners get bread and water, you know.”
Andrew studied her face as she tried to hide her absolute glee. “Fuck. You’re going to be a pain in my ass, aren’t you?”
She winked at him.
Andrew chuckled as he released the cuffs. “Coffee cups are in the cabinet above the dishwasher. Help yourself. Gotta warn you. It’s strong.”
She was surprised—and disappointed—by his easy capitulation. She was hoping for more of a fight.
Andrew grabbed a skillet and placed it on the stove. Then he rummaged around in the refrigerator, bending over in search of something. She enjoyed the view of his arse as the material of his pants stretched and outlined it. She was almost sorry when he found the bacon and eggs. He turned around too quickly and caught her staring.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Enjoying the show?”
She ignored his arrogant comment, turning back toward the cabinet to find a mug. “Strong coffee sounds perfect. My head’s still fuzzy from so much travel. And sex.”
He chuckled. “Then we’re in the same boat.”
“Harper expected you to be away for a few weeks. What happened?”
He didn’t look happy at her mention of his sister. For a second she thought he might start questioning her again, hit her with a more intense third degree. Fortunately, he let it go. Though she had no doubt he’d badger her relentlessly later.
Harper was perfectly safe and having a great time. There was no harm in keeping her friend’s secret and having a bit of fun with her sexy brother along the way.
Andrew reached for a bowl, then cracked several eggs before stirring them with a whisk. Amy tried to decide if there was anything hotter than a shirtless man making her breakfast. “I spent two days traveling toward a monsoon before my producers realized that was a stupid thing to do.”
“Clever producers.” Amy took a sip of the coffee and winced. She wasn’t much of a coffee drinker and he wasn’t kidding about it being strong. He must’ve noticed her reaction.
“There’s creamer in the fridge and sugar on the counter if you want to cut that some.”
“What the hell is creamer?”
He lifted one shoulder. “It’s like milk.”
“So why don’t you just say milk?”
He shook his head, his expression the perfect mix of exasperation and humor. “I have no idea.”
She grinned, then accepted his offer. “Your job must be incredible. Traveling all over the world, seeing so many amazing places. I’m so bloody jealous, I can hardly see straight.”
Andrew’s face brightened as he threw some bacon in the pan to fry. His carefree expression reminded her of the man she’d slept with last night. He and Harper shared a striking family resemblance, with their dark complexions and crystal-blue eyes. “I’m not going to lie. It’s the greatest way to make a living. You travel much?”
She shook her head. “Actually, this is my first time out of Australia.”
“No way. I’ve been to Australia a few times with the show. I’ll admit there are some definite differences as far as the landscape goes. The red of the Outback, the lush green of the Tasmanian rainforests
, the sapphire of the Blue Mountains, the fluorescent cityscape of the Gold Coast. Depending on where you’re from, of course. Do you find that to be true of your hometown? Does it have a color?”
He paused, clearly expecting her to answer.
“Really, Andrew? So obvious. So lame. I’m not telling you where Harper is.”
He shrugged good-naturedly. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. So what do you think of our country?” Andrew put down the whisk and leaned against the counter.
She licked her lips and tilted her head in what she hoped was a seductive pose. “I’ve enjoyed the Chicago hospitality so far.”
Mercifully, the sexy man took her hint. Reaching over, he pulled the pan from the heat and turned the stove off. “How hungry are you?”
She unbuttoned her blouse, loving the way Andrew’s gaze devoured her as she pulled the soft material over her shoulders. She hadn’t bothered putting her bra back on in her haste to cover up earlier. “I’m starving.”
A quick glance at Andrew’s track pants confirmed he was ready to roll. His thick cock was hard and leaving an impressive tent in the cotton. “Amy—”
“Gettin’ cold feet? And here I was thinking you were this big tough guy,” she taunted when she sensed his hesitation.
“Take off those pants and bend over the table.”
His commanding tone pushed every bloody hot button she had. She quickly complied, positioning herself so that he had a bird’s-eye view of her arse, the one he’d called gorgeous last night.
Andrew started to pull his pants down, then cursed. “Fuck. Condoms are upstairs.”
Amy began to rise but he pressed her back against the smooth wood. “No. Don’t move. Not an inch. I want you to stay exactly like this, waiting for me.”
“Don’t take too long.”
He placed a light slap on her arse for her cheekiness, though there was no pain associated with the action. It was meant to serve as a reminder, nothing more.
She pressed her legs together, feeling the wetness coating the insides of her thighs.
“Actually,” Andrew said, “I want you to wait for me with your legs open.” He tapped his toes against her ankles until they were spread apart enough to suit him.
“You realize you could have already gotten the bloody condom and been back by now.” His stalling was making her cranky.
“Maybe so, but eventually you need to learn that anticipation makes the reward a lot sweeter.”
She groaned when he moved away from the table, but didn’t bother to leave the room.
Here we go again.
He was going to play with her body until it felt like it would explode with unrequited lust.
“Please, Andrew. Let’s just have a quickie. To take the edge off. Then you can tease me all you want.”
Andrew didn’t reply. He reached toward a basket on the counter, grabbing a wooden spoon. That wasn’t on the list of limits.
Not that it mattered. She wasn’t about to turn down anything. She still regretted saying Oz and missing her opportunity to explore anal sex.
“You don’t mind pain.”
She remained quiet. His comment had been rhetorical. She wasn’t going to waste the breath denying something that was obvious to both of them.
“In fact, it makes you hot.”
He returned to the table, standing directly behind her arse. She couldn’t see him without lifting her head and twisting. She didn’t bother. Listening to his deep voice, while not being able to see him or what he planned to do, added to the excitement. She’d told him she wouldn’t call him master, but she had to admit, he was bloody good at mastering her.
“How hot can I make you, Amy?”
She bit her lip to keep from telling him she was already in danger of spontaneous combustion and he hadn’t laid a finger on her. Before she could offer any answer, the wooden spoon landed squarely on her arse.
She yelped with surprise and pain. “Bloody hell.”
He repeated the action. Once, twice, three times more. She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers white-knuckling the edge of the table. The spoon disappeared, the pain of it being washed away by the sheer bliss of his fingers as he pressed them inside her pussy. She lifted up on her toes, struggling for more of his deep, powerful thrusts. Sweat gathered at her brow as the heat from her arse and her pussy mingled, driving her arousal closer to the flames she hoped would consume her.
His fingers disappeared before she could leap onto the pyre. Bloody bastard was up to his same tricks. “You fucking arsehole.”
He chuckled, swatting her with the spoon several more times. Each blow landed somewhere different and with a varying amount of power. She never knew what to expect as some were gentle taps, others painful slaps.
When his fingers returned to her weeping pussy, she pressed her forehead against the table, seeking some coolness from the wood. Andrew leaned over her as he continued to fuck her, his fingers driving inside her relentlessly. Mercifully, he didn’t stop and Amy stiffened as an orgasm rumbled through her body.
“Mother. Fuck. Shit. Bloody hell.” Every curse she’d ever heard flew from her lips in a long stream as tremors shook her.
Andrew’s fingers stilled, though he kept them buried deep. “Where’s my sister?” he whispered.
“Oz.”
She let the word hover in the air between them. It would be up to him to decide if that was her answer or her retreat. He lay on top of her for several long moments as she tried to catch her breath.
When Andrew rose, he placed a kiss in the middle of her back. “Stay put.”
She wanted to laugh, but she didn’t have the energy. She wasn’t going anywhere and he knew it. He’d fucked her boneless. Again.
She closed her eyes, listening to the pounding of her heart. She was so replete and exhausted, she failed to hear Andrew when he returned to the kitchen.
The sound of the condom package tearing caught her attention. Her eyelids drifted open just as the head of his cock nudged against her pussy, seeking entrance. She thought she was too done in to do much more than simply go along for the ride. But she was mistaken. Andrew wasn’t content to let her be the passive observer as he found his pleasure in her body. He’d yet to allow her to be a wallflower at his party.
His fingers found her clit, rubbing with enough pressure to rouse a flame from what she thought were dying embers. She groaned, fresh moisture easing his path as he pushed deep.
“Jesus, Amy.”
She loved the way her name sounded in his American accent. A-mee. Andrew’s thrusts were slow at first, but soon his pace increased, dragging her arousal along with it. She pressed the palms of her hands against the tabletop, trying to find purchase as she countered with an assault of her own. He was taking her with a might that spoke of his own overwhelming need. Desire gave way to greediness.
“God. Fuck me harder, Andrew. Deeper.”
His hands gripped her hips tightly, pulling her into his plunges. Stars formed behind her eyes.
“Yes,” she hissed.
Andrew grasped a handful of her hair, using his hold to pull her upright. He continued to pummel her with hard shoves while he gripped her breast with his free hand, squeezing the sensitive flesh until she cried out.
Her second orgasm took her by surprise, flashing hard and fast. Andrew joined her, yelling out with his own release. Both of them froze, their joined bodies creating an erotic statue as they struggled to return to normal.
What was normal anymore? A week ago, she was a lonely schoolteacher in Australia who spent most nights masturbating to fantasies she thought were scandalous and wicked, but that now seemed lukewarm and unimaginative compared to Andrew’s lessons.
If that was normal, she’d sell her soul to the devil to avoid returning to her old life, to being that woman.
Andrew slowly pulled out, taking a step away when he was certain she’d found her footing. He placed a gentle hand on her back, the gesture one of protection and care.
“Okay?”
She turned to face him, nodding. “Sort of nice to confirm last night wasn’t a fluke or a lucky first attempt.”
Andrew laughed, the happy sound filling the quiet room. “Yeah. That’s good to know. Even so, I don’t think we should rest on our laurels. Might need to try that another dozen or so times just to be sure.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “Cocky bastard.”
“Let’s eat and take that nap. Then we’ll see just how cocky I am.” As he spoke, he wrapped her hand around his dick. She was surprised to realize it was already starting to stiffen again.
Captivity certainly had its advantages.
Chapter 4
Andrew followed Amy into the house, watching as she dropped her souvenir bags on a chair in the foyer. He was probably the worst kidnapper in history. His far too willing captive still wouldn’t tell him where his sister was, and after spending most of yesterday in bed, alternating between sleep and sex, Amy had roused him early this morning, insisting that he take her sightseeing.
He’d grumbled about playing tourist in his hometown, but he’d eventually given in, gotten dressed and taken her around the city. His little Australian handful was slowly wrapping him around her little finger, something no woman—with the exception of Harper—had ever been able to do.
He’d anticipated being bored all day, but seeing Chicago through Amy’s awestruck eyes had rejuvenated his love for the place. Her interest in the history of the city was genuine and he’d actually learned a few things he didn’t know. She hadn’t lied about doing her homework prior to traveling. Several times during the day, she’d consulted her list, checking off different sights after their visit. Her efficiency was mind-boggling.
Her enthusiasm as she explored Chicago made him realize he’d become jaded lately. He used to feel the same rush Amy had every time he stepped off the plane in a new country, but that passion had been absent on the past few trips. He was currently in contract negotiations with the cable company that produced his show and he’d spent several sleepless nights in the last month trying to decide if he wanted to continue.
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