Instead, I took a deep breath, and pulled up off him.
“No, Suzy. Please.” His voice was choked. Desperate.
“Tell me what I want to know,” I said.
He shook his head, his shoulders tightening as he strained against his bonds. The chair creaked.
I settled into his lap, my clit riding against the underside of his erection. I liked the feel of it, so I tightened my legs, grinding against him. I pushed upward, then slid down. I moaned as a rush of heat curled inside me.
His chest heaved under my hands, and I felt the blood throbbing in his cock, mashed between us as it was. He made a sound of ultimate frustration. Then he leaned forward and caught my mouth.
Everything I’d ever wanted was in his kiss. He was aggressive with want, with need. He forced my lips apart, wedged my mouth open, and thrust his tongue inside. He was bold, and commanding.
The force of his kiss lifted me in his lap, and rubbed me all the way back down the length of him. Our sounds of pleasure mingled in our mouths. I sucked air through my nose, clinging to him. He was kissing the thoughts right out of my head, kissing away my willpower.
I dragged my mouth from his, and pushed him away. Since his back was against a chair, I actually pushed myself until I was leaning back in his lap.
He growled with frustration, and I stared up into his wild eyes. His lips were red, his teeth bared, all vestiges of Nice Ed banished.
He leaned forward and captured my breast in his mouth. I cried out, shocked clear down to my toes with the things he was making me feel.
He pinched me with his teeth, making my hips buck against him. I knew he was punishing me, but my body soaked it up. I was wetter than I’d ever been, my cleft sliding easily along his condom-sheathed shaft. I wrapped my hands around his back, dug my nails into the skin over his shoulder blades as I gyrated my hips. My hair swung free as I let my head fall back.
The sensations were raw, burning through me. I’d forgotten my mission; all rational thought had been blasted away. All that was left was my tingling, trembling body, the mounting pleasure, and the driving need.
I arched in his lap, loving every moment of this, of him. Pleasure billowed up from where we ground together, throbbing through my veins, tightening my hands on him. It was a thing that couldn’t be helped or avoided, a white cloud of excitement that grew and expanded, and filled my skin damn near to bursting.
I moved my hips faster, riding the edge of that incredible wave. My whole body poised, trembling, on the edge, and I was caught suddenly in that blinding moment—when I wasn’t going up anymore, but gravity hadn’t yet caught me. It was the pinnacle of the roller-coaster, when you see just how damn big that drop is gonna be.
“Ed,” I cried.
He moved to my other breast, and sucked it through the satin. Hard.
I started to shake as the bottom dropped out. I took the plunge.
Ed nipped my breast, but it was just a single stone in the landslide of pleasure crashing through me. I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. Forgetting the basics, like how to breathe and which way was up.
My nails dug into him, left red trails around his back. My thighs clenched around his hips as I heaved indelicately in his lap. I sobbed his name.
Minutes later, as my body went lax and my fingers loosened on him, I almost slid to the floor. His mouth was buried against my neck, his breath hot against me, melting me even further. I slid my fingers into his hair, marveling at the silky texture of it, and even had the crazy thought that the curve of his skull felt perfect in my hand.
Then he raised his head.
Uh-oh.
I’d thought Ed looked ragged before. But no. Now he looked ragged.
His pupils were blown, his skin drawn tight over his flushed cheekbones. He was trembling, a fine tremor that I’d thought was my own dancing nerve endings. His cock was still hard, still throbbing against me.
Ed hadn’t cum.
And now, now I got the feeling he’d answer my questions.
I smiled, a slow, satisfied grin. “So,” I said. “What’s going on at the bar?”
The smile that unfurled on his face was even slower than my own, and it made my heart trip. “Keep trying, Miss Suzy. I’m looking forward to it.”
Damn it. My eyes narrowed.
He laughed.
An hour later, Ed had still given me nothing. I’d worked him up to the barest edge of orgasm, but not let him go over, three times. He was sweaty and blowing, looking like he’d been ridden hard and put away wet. But he also had a crazy grin plastered over his face, and he seemed more alive than I’d ever seen him. He looked dazed, and flushed, and like some crazy woman had tied him to a kitchen chair, cut him out of his shirt, and thoroughly molested him.
But hadn’t finished the job. Ed’s hard-on was still raging—seriously, by this point, it was purple, and it was so frickin’ hard it was a wonder it hadn’t burst.
The last hour had been almost as hard on me as it had been on him. I had denied us both, and it was one hell of a bittersweet victory.
I was still sitting on his lap, contemplating this challenging man with an odd mix of attraction, frustration, and admiration, when Helly and Gary walked back through the door.
“How’d it go?” Gary asked. He looked away, giving me an opportunity to tug my top into place.
I shifted, blocking their view of Ed’s lap. “It didn’t,” I said. “He still hasn’t told me anything.”
“Nothing?” Helly said with a frown.
“Well, something about it being a business, and having to do with gambling.”
“And he’s the boss,” Gary said, rubbing his jaw.
I nodded. “Yeah. He says it’s not a salmon derby, though,” I added when Helly started to get excited.
“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped.
“What about you guys? Find anything?”
“No,” Gary said. “The bar was all normal when we got there. Well, not normal, normal,” he said, catching Helly’s look. “But there were guides and fishermen inside, people drinking, playing pool. Everyone was denying everything, and we didn’t hear any phantom cheering.”
“Ah.” I looked into Ed’s eyes, thinking he was a sneaky bastard.
“We brought your boat back,” Gary said.
“Well, what now? Let him go?” Helly asked.
Ed looked back at me, his eyes bright, lustrous. The faintest hint of a smirk on his lips decided me.
“No,” I said. “Stage Two.”
“Wait, there’s a Stage Two?” Gary asked, even as Helly hooted.
“What’s Stage Two?” Ed asked, watching Helly’s excited little dance with concern.
“But of course. What, did you think I was just going to untie you? After you told me nothing?” I made sure my evil little grin was the last thing Ed saw.
Chapter Seventeen
“I can’t believe you shot me again,” Ed mumbled into my mattress.
Gary and Helly had helped me carry him up the stairs. That’s the main reason we’d darted him again; having somebody his size thrashing as we carried him up a flight of rotten stairs was a clear recipe for disaster.
“You’ll get over it,” I said.
My mattress was back in its usual spot, on its box springs, on its frame, but we’d put plastic down before replacing the sheets and dumping Ed on the bed. And that wasn’t ominous. Nope, not at all. I wondered if he noticed that when he shifted, the bed crinkled slightly.
I approached, eyeing his fine ass. We’d stripped him before hogtying him, and now he lay mostly prone, his lower legs bent up, and his arms pulled back at what looked like an uncomfortable angle. His wrists and ankles were connected by about a foot of yellow rope. He looked… vulnerable.
Maybe his skin was prickling under my gaze. “You stripped me, didn’t you?” he said.
“Yeah. I did.” I wondered if he was afraid.
The muscles in his arms tightened as he tested his bonds. When he pulled on t
hem, his knees were forced into an even more acute angle. “You know,” he said, his voice contemplative. “The further you go with this, the more you manage to turn me on.”
I grinned. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. Not sure what that says about me.” He shrugged.
I continued to stand there, quietly, watching him, letting the anticipation mount.
He rocked to one side, moving his head so he could peer at me over his shoulder. “So. What are you planning?” he asked.
“I’ve had lots of ideas,” I said. “I thought about tickling you.” Until you pee, I didn’t add.
He scoffed. “Not ticklish,” he muttered.
That remained to be seen, but I’d already pretty well dismissed the idea anyway. “I’ve got a violin in the closet,” I said. “I played a bit in high school, but I was really, really bad. I was thinking about serenading you.” I tapped my finger thoughtfully against my lip.
He shuddered and looked kind of scared, but I still had one more option.
“Or,” I said. “I’ve got a suitcase full of sex toys, the contents of which you saw the other night… I’m sure we could find something in there we’d both enjoy.” I might have looked meaningfully at his exposed butt.
“I choose—”
Funny, that he thought he had a choice.
I clapped my hands. “I knew you’d agree with me,” I gushed, and went to the closet.
He groaned. “I was going to say tickle me.”
I emerged with the passion pink suitcase, and watched his eyes widen as I thumped it down on the floor near the edge of the bed. I unzipped it, making sure he had a clear view of the contents.
He gulped. “I see you’re taking our relationship to the next level,” he said faintly.
I let my hand wander over the contents. “You could tell me what I want to know,” I suggested.
He shook his head. “I can’t. I won’t.”
I pulled out the flogger.
He groaned, and buried his face against the sheets.
I climbed onto the bed and poised on my knees above him. I brushed the soft strips of faux leather and lace across his skin, enjoying how he twitched. As I trailed the flogger around, the muscles in his back and butt and thighs flexed in an intriguing ripple that left me strangely breathless.
“Aren’t I supposed to have a safe word or something?” he asked.
“I’ll stop if you tell me what I want to know,” I said. I emphasized my words with a light swat of the flogger just at the top of his left glute.
He jumped, his breath rasping in the silence of my bedroom. His skin was gleaming a little bit. Good. He was starting to sweat.
I did it again, other cheek, and he groaned. “Suzy.” I can’t even describe how good he looked to me in that moment, naked and tied, his muscles in stark relief.
“I was fantasizing about spanking you,” I confided. “The other day in my kitchen.”
I swatted him a little harder, and his breath hissed. “Suzy.”
“Those aren’t the words I want to hear,” I said, even though that wasn’t perfectly true. My name on his lips felt like a caress. Those two syllables made my whole body flush with pleasure.
His hips began to move under my flogger, a slow grind that told me he was enjoying himself. I wanted to be underneath him, his hips wedging my thighs open. I wanted to feel each of those strong movements from the inside.
Ah hell, I was sweating right along with him. I leaned forward, smoothing my hand up his thigh. His skin was an absolute delight, smooth and warm. I laid down the flogger to run both hands over him. The dusting of dark hair over his calves tickled my palms.
Craving the feel of his skin against mine, I pressed close. I pressed my breasts to his upper arm, and my lips to the back of his shoulder. I took a deep breath, and almost groaned. He smelled so damn good.
I lowered myself to lie next to him. He turned his head to look at me as I slid my knee up over his hip. I pressed myself against him, wanting some relief for the raging ache he inspired. I wanted him to feel how wet he’d made me, wanted to torture him just a little bit more.
He was hogtied, yes, but I was under no illusion that I had him under control. He could probably knock me off the bed with a hard jab of his elbow. He could roll over me, crush the breath out of me. Head-butt or bite me.
He did none of those things, just as I’d known he wouldn’t. Instead, he closed his eyes with a groan, and rocked over onto his side so his erection pressed against my thigh. When he opened his eyes again, they were pleading.
I stared thoughtfully into them. He wouldn’t tell me his big secret, but maybe he’d dish about other things. “Are you a virgin?” I asked.
He stared at me, his eyes wide with shock—and then he laughed in my face.
“Answer the question,” I grumbled, disgruntled. I wrapped my hand around his erection, which made him shut up fast. He was hard as iron, the feel of him filling me with liquid heat. Why was I denying us, again?
He groaned. “Suzy,” he said, sounding like he was having difficulty catching his breath. “As a virgin, I wouldn’t have lasted past the first touch of your tongue. Where did you even get that idea?”
“It’s the word on the river.”
“Really?” He closed his eyes, just soaking up the feel of me stroking him. I liked lying with him like this, liked watching him. Some men didn’t stand up to a close inspection, but Ed was even better at short range.
“It’s a rumor, anyway.” A rumor that I may or may not have started.
“Why would anyone think that?” He leaned his head forward, buried his mouth against my neck. His beard tickled me even as the feel of his lips instantly tightened my nipples.
“Did you see your beard before you trimmed it? How shy you act, especially with women?” I pulled myself closer to him.
“My beard?” he rumbled against my neck between soft, tingling kisses. “Women love beards.”
I snorted, a derisive sound that was ruined by my moan. There wasn’t room enough for my hand between us anymore, so I rocked my hips instead, rubbing against him. He leaned over me, and I dug my nails into his back, loving the feel of being surrounded by him.
“You love my beard,” he murmured. He had moved on to my shoulder, nibbling gently.
I was having a little difficulty with lucid thought at the moment. I was seriously considering giving in to this attraction between us. Fully. To hell with torture; this man was wonderful. Possibly even wonderful enough to cancel out whatever dirty secret he had. Maybe. If he continued to touch me like this, kiss me, whisper in my ear, definitely maybe.
A warning tickled my mind. I was losing control.
No, I couldn’t give in, not now. I pressed myself back from him.
What had he said? Did I love his beard? I’d enjoyed grabbing him by it, enjoyed the way it felt between my fingers and the feel of it now, rubbing against my skin. It looked manly, tough. I guess the only thing I didn’t like so much about the beard was the fact that I didn’t know what was underneath it.
“Do you have anything weird under all that facial hair?” I asked. “A severely receding chin, or a nasty burn, or… gang tattoos?”
“No.” His eyes were dark, his breath warm puffs against my face. I could feel the tension in him. His lips were red, and the cock throbbing between my legs told me just how much he wanted me.
“Then I like the beard,” I admitted.
He rocked forward, pinning me to the bed with his weight. He sucked at my neck, causing a sting that made me a gasp.
“You love the beard,” he corrected.
I shoved my hips up toward him, making us both groan.
“Suzy,” Ed panted, and his hips were moving, and suddenly I had my wish. He wasn’t inside me, but he was the next best thing: Almost on top of me, pressing between my legs.
I clung to him as time and space seemed to spin away. My body was throbbing in time to Ed’s movements, waves of sensation glittering across my
nerve endings. Only friction and heat existed between us, kindled by the sounds of our pleasure.
Ed jerked suddenly, and I came to. “What is it?” I asked.
“Your ceiling is dripping,” he mumbled into my neck. His muscles twitched again, and I assumed another cool drop of water had landed on his back.
I wanted to groan. That had been the plan, of course, thus the plastic sheeting—let him get dripped on, see if he changed his mind about talking then. But right now, half under him and halfway toward what surely would have been a magnificent orgasm? Again, I wasn’t sure who I was being harder on.
I needed a breather, I realized. Needed to get this situation back under control.
I started to wriggle out from under him.
He dropped his head back into the crook of my neck, and settled more heavily against me. Protesting.
I felt a shiver run through him as another drop hit his back, and for just a second I felt kinda bad. Then I got over it, and pushed at him. I wriggled in earnest, gradually working myself out from under him.
He rolled face-down with a groan, and didn’t even twitch with the next drop. He was the vision of defeat.
“This seems unnecessarily cruel,” he said.
I grinned. The man was just so fucking cute. “You gonna tell me what you’re up to?”
“Death first,” he mumbled into the mattress. He turned his head again to look at me, squeezing his eyes shut as another drop splattered across his back. They were coming faster now as the rain picked up, creating a dull roar on the steel roofing. “Seriously, Suzy? I didn’t put that hole in your roof.”
I walked over to take hold of the little old armchair I kept in one corner. I dragged it toward the bed. “It doesn’t matter who did it,” I said. “Dripping water has been used as a tool of torture for—” I grunted as I coaxed the chair across the carpet “—thousands of years, probably. All I know is—” I plopped into the chair “—it was super unpleasant lying there that first night, and I thought maybe—” I blew a stray curl out of my face as I folded my legs under me and pulled a blanket over my lap “—it would be unpleasant enough to get you to talk.” I settled back with a sigh.
Two Captains, One Chair: An Alaskan Romantic Comedy Page 21
