by Lily Rede
But he’s mine, her heart insisted.
No he’s not, her head replied.
HE WATCHED GRACE MALLOW walk away, and then he watched Matt Harris pick up a trash can and hurl it across the street to crunch into a telephone pole, the very picture of an angry Viking god.
Whatever she’d said to him had caused this.
He knew Matt was a goody-goody, and everyone’s hero, but he hadn’t known that this fire lurked within – something frightening and dark and unpredictable. It was news to everyone else as well, and he could already see the locals who had witnessed the event hurrying to share with their neighbors. By evening, Matt’s outburst at the hands of Grace Mallow would be the talk of the town.
There was still a problem.
He thought he’d covered his tracks so well, but if Matt kept poking around where he wasn’t wanted, something would have to be done.
The smell of a fireplace in the air had blood pooling in his groin, seductive and earthy and hot. Fire was such a useful tool – it wiped away mistakes and destroyed evidence and had the power to ruin lives.
Watching Matt storm away, he wondered if maybe he wasn’t done after all.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GRACE WAS RELIEVED THAT Adam’s pain meds had completely knocked him out by the time she got home from work. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She didn’t want to explain. She didn’t want to think. She’d take a bath, make some dinner, and then sit down and maybe start making a list of places where she and Adam could make a new start. Just the thought had her heart clenching.
The front door opened and Matt stepped inside.
“You need to fix this lock, Grace.”
“I told you, I don’t want to talk,” scowled Grace, moving to usher him out.
“Who says I’m here to talk?” countered Matt, and yanked her to him, his mouth coming down hard on hers,
No apologies, no hesitance, just his mouth demanding a response. Grace clenched her fingers in his shirt and held on. How could she push him away when she wanted to devour him in decadent, greedy bites?
“We’re just having sex. That was the deal.”
He cupped her through the black lace of her skirt and she moaned.
“Are you going to kick me out?”
He moved her palm to his cock, pressing into her, and she shook her head, eyes wide. This was the Matt she’d been longing for, the dark-edged giant who knew precisely what she wanted and how to give it to her. Perversely, she missed the tenderness, but if this was all she could have of him before she left…
Her train of thought derailed as he lifted her into his arms and marched upstairs, sparing a glance at Adam’s door down the hall, before setting her down in the bedroom and locking the door behind them.
MATT WAS A ROILING storm of anger and frustration – he had been all day. Grace’s attempts to push him away for his own good had pissed him off, but her declaration about leaving Bright’s Ferry had scared him. Something menacing and awful rose in him as he thought about life without Grace.
No.
And if he had to use her darkest desires against her to anchor her to his side, that’s what he would do.
Setting her down in the middle of the room, Matt unfastened his jeans and pulled his shirt over his head, toeing off his shoes before unzipping to lift out his cock and the heavy sac beneath. He was surprised to find that he enjoyed the bite of the open zipper framing his flesh, and he certainly enjoyed the way Grace was looking at him. Lust slapped him hard and his cock twitched as she licked her lips.
“Bring me the handcuffs, Grace.”
She looked surprised, but only hesitated for a moment before hurrying to the nightstand to retrieve them. They were wrapped in velvet, which made Matt feel marginally less monstrous as he snicked them around her slender wrists in front.
He left her there for a minute and moved to the drawer, choosing a few items before turning back to her. Grace’s eyes widened as she saw what he set down on the night stand before joining her, a silver egg and remote in his hands.
“I hope you’re wet for me, Grace. Put your foot on the bed.”
She did, licking her lips, and the long skirt fell back to reveal the tall, thigh-high boots that drove him crazy and a length of smooth, creamy thigh.
Matt pushed her skirt back further and then reached up to tug the thong out of the way. Separating her with two thick fingers, he used his other hand to push the egg deep, and then stepped back.
“And now…”
He hit the remote, giving her an experimental jolt, and she jerked.
Fucking awesome.
He wanted to order her to her knees to soothe his aching dick with her sweet lips, but he had other plans, and he’d never last.
“Lie down, Grace. I’m going to play for a while before I give you your punishment.”
Matt could see she was trembling as she did what he asked, and he swiftly looped the short length of chain between her handcuffed wrists and secured her to the headboard.
“This isn’t your favorite dress, is it?” he asked.
Not waiting for an answer, he ripped the black lace from bodice to hem. Grace gasped. Matt found the seams at her arms and ripped those too, leaving her clad in sleeves, underthings, and spiky leather boots. The bra presented a problem until Matt figured out that he could unsnap it and slide it up to dangle from the chain over her head. He tweaked her nipples hard and then reached for the waistband of her thong, and she wriggled.
“If I take this off of you, you’ll be naked in only boots and your glasses, chained to the bed, waiting to be fucked. Is that what you want, Grace?”
“Take it off!” she pleaded, and he punished her with a long jolt that had her crying out, arching into the pleasure as he tugged the wisp of fabric down her thighs.
She was panting as it finally stopped, teetering on the edge of orgasm, and she groaned, frustrated. Matt just grinned and spread her legs obscenely wide and then stood at the foot of the bed, stroking his cock. He whistled low.
“This is quite a view, Miss. Mallow. In fact, I think it that wet pussy and your hard little nipples plus those boots take ‘slutty librarian’ to a whole new level. God, you’re drenched.”
He flicked the remote and Grace lost her mind for a few minutes as pleasure splintered her into sparkling fragments. He finally turned the damned thing off, and Grace realized her voice was hoarse from her cries just as she heard the ‘click’ of a cell phone camera. Her eyes snapped open.
“Matt!”
“What?”
“Don’t take pictures, are you crazy?”
She started to close her legs, but he tossed the phone aside before moving her thighs back where he wanted them. He leaned over her.
“You said when we started, whatever I want. I’ll take care of it. Trust me?”
He was pleased when she nodded, and despite the hard tone of the night’s activities, he couldn’t help himself and gently stroked her cheek.
“Great, let’s have some fun.”
GRACE HAD TRIED ALMOST everything over the years in an attempt to learn what she liked, what she didn’t, and what was too far. She’d never let anyone take pictures before, though, and it was only because it was Matt that she wasn’t completely panicking right now. He’d never been this forceful before, this confident in what he wanted, and yet he was still angry with her.
That’s fine. I’m still angry with him, too. She thought about Millicent and the unfairness of life and uncharitably wanted to rip the young woman’s eyes out.
Angry sex was a bad habit to get into, but for the moment, it would do just fine. Better than fine, actually – it was such a turn on, she was quivering, and she was discovering some truly enlightening things about herself. For example, she still wasn’t scared of him. He had ripped her clothes, chained her to the bed, and was now straddling her, running his cock and the weighty sac up her torso to settle between her breasts, the denim of his jeans chafing her skin deliciously. She still wanted
to let him do anything he wanted to her, and then some, trusting that he would take care of her.
And I think I’m in love with him.
The thought skittered through her brain, but she couldn’t hold onto it because Matt cupped her breasts and squeezed without his usual restraint, tight and oh so good.
“God, Matt – ”
Face suffused with pleasure, he slid forward, pumping his cock into the cleavage he’d created, his cock hot and incredible against her skin.
“Just sex, Grace?” he asked, tightly.
Oh no, she was not going to tell him that she loved him, that she was wrong and she needed him, that it could never be ‘just sex’ between them ever again. Not while he was fucking her breasts.
Not romantic. But God, this is good.
It was a jolt to realize that she wanted it to be romantic sometimes.
Then Matt flicked on the remote and let the egg stay on, buzzing inside her sensitive flesh while she writhed beneath him and he jerked his hips forward again and again. Four more thrusts and he came with a rough shout, pulling back to fist his cock and come all over her quivering tits. Without a word, he shut off the egg before she could come again, damn him, and pressed the fat crown of his dick against her lips. She whimpered and lapped him clean, his taste sending a hard beat of arousal to her already overstimulated clit.
Matt’s eyes were dark with lust as he watched her breasts rise and fall, ragged, her nipples gleaming with his release as she licked his glistening cock. He flipped her over, adjusting the chain to the top bar of the headboard so that when he pulled her knees back, her weight shifted to her wrists, arching her back and thrusting her damp nipples forward. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but Grace was beyond caring as he spread her wide again.
“I’m going to spank you today, Grace.” The words were confident, but there were nerves underneath.
Grace moaned as his hand caressed one ass cheek.
“I’m going to spank you for even thinking that I would want someone else. You could rob a bank, or tap dance naked for the Town Council, and I wouldn’t care. It’s you, and only you. And then I’m going to spank you for even thinking about leaving town.”
Grace bit her lip, though the rough emotion in his voice threatened to unravel her.
“Give me a safe word,” he continued, reaching inside her to pull out the egg with gentle fingers.
“Purple,” she replied in a heated whisper.
She felt him shift again, and then she felt his fingers, slick with lube and her own juices, stroking up the cleft of her ass, seeking out the tiny pucker. Her eyes closed as she whimpered, trying to relax the opening against his fingers. He slid one in, just the tip, then more.
Yes.
It had been too long, and Grace knew she’d be tight. He withdrew and she was about to say something when she felt the lubed plug, tapered at one end, but brutally thick at its base. All that emerged from her throat was a squeak as Matt began pressing it in, a slow inch at a time.
“Incredible,” he muttered behind her, but didn’t stop. The plug stretched her and she savored the burn, the indescribable tightness as he pressed it to the hilt, anchoring it inside of her. Matt stroked her hands over her trembling flesh, moving between her thighs as he cupped her ass.
“Only you, Grace,” he said again, and his hand came down on one cheek in a heated slap. She gasped as fire raced from the sting in her flesh to the plug in her ass and down to her clit, but she didn’t have time to process it because he did it again. And again. At this rate, he was going to burn her alive, leaving nothing behind but ashes as she went up in flames.
MATT WAS EXHILERATED AND utterly horrified with himself, but he kept spanking her. The way her ass cheeks jiggled and blushed under his ministrations was hypnotic, and she was so turned on that her thighs were slick with moisture. Every hard little tap against her resilient flesh had her moaning, and though he couldn’t see them, he knew that her come-soaked tits were bouncing.
“Mine,” he growled, shocked as the word ripped out of him.
“Yours,” she agreed, desperate, and he pulled the pink twin globes further apart to begin sliding his rock-hard shaft into her sodden pussy.
She was even tighter than usual, the plug forcing him to work the thick flesh in, and she thrashed in pleasure beneath him as he started moving, fucking into her tight, hot sheath like a beast, uncontrolled and lost in mindless pleasure, his balls slapping her pussy as he thrust with greater force until she was panting, begging, and sobbing with pleasure.
Sobbing.
“Use the safe word, Grace,” he said, pistoning into her, his own orgasm just a thought away.
She shook her head and he could see tears tracking down her cheeks.
“Use it!”
He spanked her again – three heavy taps, and she cried out his name, and suddenly Matt was back in his nightmare – Grace in tears, his marks on her skin, and as she came hard in a seemingly endless wave, he jerked back out of her, his come spurting forth in an orgasm laced with absolute fear and regret that gave him no pleasure, even as it painted the skin of her incredible ass. She slumped against the cuffs, undone – fucked and marked and wet with his seed, the cheeks of her ass bright pink and glistening. Grace moaned a soft little sound that lashed Matt with the force of a whip.
With shaking hands, he eased the plug out of her, and then uncuffed her and lowered her to the bed. She was nearly asleep, but reached for him.
“Matt?”
He avoided her clinging hands but tucked a blanket over her, then gathered up the sex toys.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispered, “Sleep.
With a kiss on the forehead, he silently gathered up his clothes, and three shaking minutes later, was out the door.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AN HOUR LATER, MATT was sitting at the bar at Clark’s, nursing a drink. It was only the tiniest shred of self-preservation that kept him from just downing the whole bottle. He felt…confused. Scared of what he’d done, scared that he’d liked it, and scared of what would happen next.
Was she pleased? Did she enjoy it? Or did he push her too far?
If he wasn’t such a fucking coward he would have stayed to ask her. He could still smell her on his skin, her arousal and the wildflower scent that always had him hard as a rock in seconds.
A hard shove had him sloshing his drink over the bar and he turned to see Russell Lanksy, his face as red as his hair, arms crossed, defiant.
“You’ve been poking around in my business, Harris? If you want to say something to me, just say it.”
“I’m helping the Sheriff catch an arsonist, Russell. Some toes are going to get stepped on along the way.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then don’t sweat it,” said Matt and returned to his drink.
“Don’t sweat it?” Russell shoved him again, and Matt felt himself tense, “You don’t have to worry about what people think of you. You’re Matt Harris, a goddamn fucking firefighter hero in this town. I’m already in enough hot water with Darryl. I don’t need you making it worse by making everybody think I’m a firebug!”
Matt got to his feet, trying to control the anger.
“Fine, maybe you can tell me why you visited four of the buildings that the arsonist burned. And why your brother is so reluctant to hand over an employee list?”
Russell sneered at him.
“Maybe my guys don’t want you nosing around in their lives. It’s not like you keep your nose clean, either.” He raised his voice, “I’ve seen you running around with Grace Mallow.”
Matt frowned. This could get out of control if he didn’t watch himself. A glance around revealed that conversations had stopped, and a horde of curious eyes were locked on him. Russell had better shut his mouth, or he was about to lose his tongue, permanently.
“We all know what Grace Mallow is like.”
Matt was furious to see a few not-so-subtle nods.
; “Did she get you into all that kinky shit, too? Does she have a closet full of whips and chains?”
“Now would be a good time to be quiet, Russell,” he growled, but the idiot kid was on a roll.
“I’m guessing she looks real good all tied up and eager. Bet she could take on three or four men at once and then beg for more.”
That’s it.
One moment, Russell was taunting him, a nasty grin on his face, the next Matt had tackled him to the ground and was raising a fist to pummel that smirk off his face. But Russell, though small, was quicker than he looked, and managed to dodge. Pain coursed through Matt’s fist as it hit the floor, followed by shards of agony in his arm as Russell bit him, hard.
They rolled, and people shrieked as tables crashed and chairs toppled over, and Matt felt the sick sensation of bone crunching under his aching hand as he broke Russell’s nose. Blood spurted, and the kid screamed.
Suddenly, Matt felt a pair of hard hands on him, yanking him back, and then, “Matt! What the fuck, man? Get a grip!”
Still in a rage, he took a swing at Colin, who managed to duck and then grab his head, forcing him to look him in the eye.
“Matt, it’s me!”
The red cloud subsided and Matt recognized Colin’s steady hazel eyes, which now looked at him with a blend of concern and a touch of wariness.
“I’m okay,” mumbled Matt, panting, “I’m okay.”
Russell, the worm, stumbled to his feet, and toward the door, holding his face, blood down his shirt.
“You’re a fucking lunatic!” he said, shaking, “I’m going to press charges!”
“He said things…about Grace,” insisted Matt, feeling the anger rising again and forcing himself not to lunge for the weasely kid.
“Russell, why don’t you stop bleeding all over Mr. Clark’s floor and when you’re ready to discuss this like a grownup, we can sit down and talk about it,” said Colin reasonably, “I’m sure Mr. Harris didn’t mean to injure you, just as I’m sure you didn’t mean to say anything about Grace Mallow that you wouldn’t say about your own mother.”
