by Lisa Ladew
Knox pulled the sheet all the way off, his hand opening and dropping it on the floor as his eyes traveled down her smooth belly to her mound. No panties either. She was beautiful. And his for the night.
Her legs were too close together though. Knox stepped to the foot of the bed and pulled one round restraint latch out of its notch, moving it along its groove until her leg had to open wider. The movement teased a gasp from her. He kept his eyes on the restraint latches, not wanting to spoil the unveiling with a partial view. He moved the other leg out as far as it would go, then slowly followed the line of her calf and thigh to her sex.
Her pussy was ripe and beautiful, and as completely wet as he knew it would be. His erection swelled as he watched her hips tip downwards, possibly trying to hide herself from his view.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, meaning it. Her lips pressed together for a moment and then her hips relaxed. Her tongue darted out and wet her lips. She was excited, but nervous. He needed to take care of that.
He began taking off his clothes, talking to her as he did so. “Ok gorgeous, you’re not here to be a submissive. I’m no dominant, although I love a bit of rough play as much as anyone. You’re here to be my plaything for the night, and in return I will make sure you feel very, very good. Remember, your safe words are easy. No, don’t, and stop. If you say any one of them, I will stop what I am doing immediately and untie you. I won’t try to force you to do anything, but I will encourage you to do everything.”
Completely naked, cock standing at attention, Knox climbed onto the bed next to her, heading for her neck as he had decided already.
“Is there anything you’d like to request?” he rumbled, then knelt to suckle her jaw line, moving lower as she pressed into it.
She didn’t speak, only moaned lightly and arched her head back, giving him more access.
“You let me know, gorgeous,” he whispered into the slight hollow of her collarbone. “Anything goes in this room. I won’t say anything. You won’t say anything. If you tell me your deepest darkest fantasies, there’s a good chance I’ll do my best to fulfill them.”
Again she didn’t say a word, only mewled in the very back of her throat.
Gentleman’s choice, then.
He brought his hand up the length of her body and palmed the tantalizing weight of her breast, then began slow, languorous circles around her nipple with two fingers. Darby arched her back and pushed into his hand. He kissed his way down to the breast, stopping his kisses just long enough to look at the tempting globe as the music in the room changed to something slower, deeper. He loved breasts. The sheer beauty of them. If there was anything more perfect or attractive in nature he’d never seen it. They sucked a man in, made him forget who he was. Made him cross any boundary for the right to touch, to taste.
The right he had at this moment. Overcome with desire, he suddenly pinched her nipple possessively, perhaps a mite too hard, earning a sudden gasp and then a low moan from Rach—Darby.
Thrown off his game for just a moment by the slip of the wrong name in his mind, Knox breathed deeply and mustered all of his predatory focus. This wasn’t Rachel, but it didn’t matter. Darby was soft and willing and here. Rachel was not. Rachel had run from him. Rachel might even be dead. A dull pain hit Knox right in the chest at the last thought. He gritted his teeth and flung the thought away. With a growl he dropped his head to the nipple in front of him and began to suck until the primal act drove all thoughts from his mind.
Darby whimpered and rolled beneath him. Knox continued his attention to her breasts, switching from one to the other while reaching down with one hand to run lazy circles over her belly, sometimes dropping just low enough to graze her sex. He would do this until she begged. They always begged at some point.
And beg she did.
Knox lost himself, lost time, lost cohesive thought. All that existed was the breasts, the body, the sensation of soft under his rough fingertips. Her little moans and whimpers became part of the music, part of the room. Until she spoke her first words.
“Knox, I can’t take it anymore. Stick your cock in me. Please.”
Knox smiled into the nipple he was worshiping. There was nothing better in life than to hear a woman beg him to fuck her.
“Say it again, gorgeous.”
She whimpered and pulled on her restraints. “Fuck me, Knox, please fuck me.”
Knox let the nipple pop out of his mouth and worked his way up to her lips, mauling them, making them his, ruining them for any other man. “Don’t worry gorgeous, I’ll fuck you. But not yet. Fucking is dessert. There’s four other courses to get through first.”
She whimpered again and her lips sought his, trying to get him to kiss her again but his cock throbbed so hard it grabbed his attention for a moment. He scooted up the bed and knelt by her head. “Kiss my cock, Darby. It’s aching for you.”
She turned towards him eagerly, her mouth wide open, wanting him. He grasped his cock in his hand and gently pushed it home. Her mouth stretched wide to accommodate him and he watched, fascinated, loving the look of his flesh disappearing between her beautiful swollen lips. She swirled him with her tongue a few times but he pulled away at the first light graze of her teeth. Blowjobs made him vulnerable, and that was something he couldn’t stand to be.
He kissed her lips, hard, grabbed a condom off the nightstand, then traveled down her body, trailing light kisses as he went. Darby pulled against her restraints and arched her body, trying to push her sex into him.
Knox kept going till he was there, his eyes devouring her perfect pink folds. She squirmed beneath his gaze. She couldn’t see him eye-fucking her, but she sure as hell had to feel the desire radiating out around him.
She was swollen and dripping, her petal-smooth lips flushed with obvious passion. Knox brushed her sex with his tongue, gently tasting her. She tasted lightly sweet, like a strawberry or melon left in the sun too long. She moaned, long and loud, letting him know she wanted this badly. Knox began his exploration of her center, being careful to avoid her clit, wanting to hear her beg him again. He couldn’t get enough of a woman begging him.
Using his tongue, he caressed her lower lips with care and precision, starting from the very bottom of her sex and working his way as far up as he could without touching her where she strained for him to. When her cries became desperate, he pulled back for a second to find her U-spot, then lowered his head to it, determined to find out if she even knew about this sensitive area on her body. He licked it lightly, then applied pressure with the flat of his tongue, straining upwards to sweep around her clit.
He heard the restraint locks rattle in the headboard as her top half came off the bed. “Oh God!” she cried.
Knox smiled to himself and went back for another pass. He’d always studied women, their anatomy, and the art of genius, mind-blowing sex, because he loved giving pleasure. To him, the cries of a woman in the midst of a killer orgasm were almost better than his own release. Judging by her reaction, he’d bet a thousand dollars that she’d never had a lover give this spot attention, or that she’d never discovered it herself. It was an upside-down, u-shaped area below the clitoris. Knox thought of it as the underside of the clitoris, because if he approached it like he was trying to stimulate that underneath bit, the woman always went crazy.
Knox swept across Darby’s U-spot, then around the clitoris again, before finally focusing directly on her clit. He closed his lips around it and suckled like it was a nipple, dropping his tongue to her U-spot every few seconds.
Darby bucked her hips off the bed, her thighs clenching. She cried out, one long, punctuated scream, and Knox knew she was close already. “Cum, gorgeous,” he snarled into her flesh, his tongue still in place. She broke then, thrusting her hips forward one more time and holding them, her scream of pure pleasure loud enough to wake the neighbors. Knox curled his arms around her thighs, refusing to alter his pace or technique as her orgasm went on and on. He could feel her heat clenching ar
ound him as the hot, hard contractions shot through her. Finally, she dropped to the bed, satiated. Done. Or so she thought.
Knox ripped the condom wrapper open with his teeth and rolled the condom down his thick, throbbing shaft in one movement. He couldn’t wait one more second to be inside her. He positioned himself between Darby’s quivering thighs, took his cock in his hand, and thrust into her with one deep, hard movement.
Darby cried out and her head lifted off the bed again. Knox pulled out and thrust back in, imagining her eyes wide beneath her blindfold as she dealt with the sudden intrusion as best she could. Her pussy was dripping wet, her honey coating him, her walls clenching at him. He fucked her hard, looking only for his own release, loving the feeling of her after her orgasm. She’d come, now he needed to, so they could move on to the next part in the game.
Chapter 7
Mica
Mica boarded the airplane quickly, knowing she couldn’t avoid it any longer. Justin had to know she wasn’t coming in. Thank God he was competent. He’d been wanting to head a runway show for months. This was his chance. She’d do what she could from the San Francisco office but he was going to be mostly on his own.
She had left her car sitting on the grass and called a cab. She didn’t know what story her car sitting there with the big dent in the trunk told, but she didn’t much care either. She had just wanted out. Out of Dick Bailey’s reach, out of the city, out of the mess he was creating around her.
Mica found her seat and sat quickly, then pulled out her phone, texting Justin.
I can’t come in tonight. Emergency in San Fran. How would you like to run Tuesday’s show?
She only had to wait a few moments before his reply came back.
GIRL! I thought you’d never ask. You know I am all over it!!!!!!!!
Mica huffed out a breath in relief. He would do a good job. The models would look sassier than she liked them, with crazy hair-styles and ostentatious makeup, plus she knew he would hire as many male models as he could get away with, just because he liked to look at them, but the show would be top-notch.
A moment later her phone buzzed again.
What kind of emergency? You ok?
I’m fine. Just personal stuff.
Personal stuff? Since when? What’s going on?
Mica sighed. Justin knew her too well. He knew she had no family, no kids, no boyfriend, no friends, and no life, so any personal stuff she was dealing with had to be hers alone. He cared about her. He would keep prying till he found out. She took the easy way out.
Nothing big. I’ll tell you tomorrow. Stewardesses are ordering phones off. Bye.
Mica turned her phone off quickly, punching the power button like she could ward off evil with it. Hopefully that would hold him for a while.
Until she figured out what the hell to do with the mess she was in.
***
Mica’s plane touched down in San Francisco an hour and thirty-five minutes later. She had no luggage. Nothing but her purse and the clothes on her back. Luckily, she had everything she needed at her townhome in the Sea Cliff subdivision. She just had to get there. She found a cab and gave her address, then leaned back to watch the city go by. There was something soothing about San Francisco at night, and it lulled her into a relaxed feeling, a feeling that she had made the right choice by coming.
A short while later, she paid the cab driver and stepped onto the sidewalk in front of her townhome. It wasn’t secluded, like her place in Seattle, but that was one of the reasons she had come. Victorian buildings crowded it from both sides. The hum of traffic behind her reminded her that there were people everywhere. She would be safer in San Fran. There were neighbors to run to if things got bad.
Mica pulled out her keys and unlocked the door to the foyer she shared with the other townhome owners. The seam of the door whispered over the red-velvet carpet as she pushed her way inside. Speaking of neighbors, the guy in 1A must have seen her pull up. He opened his door, shirtless, wearing only a pair of blue boxer shorts and nothing else, a mailbox key glinting in his hand.
He smiled at her. “Mica, so good to see you. How’s Seattle?”
Mica swallowed hard. He was hot. Sexy. Smoking, even, but his size and his confidence always made her nervous. His feet padded soundlessly over the carpet as he walked to the mailboxes and opened his. He pulled out a handful of mail while Mica worked her throat, trying to get her tongue to work. He checked his mail a lot when she came in the door, but he’d never done it practically naked before.
“Hi, uh, Darryl. It’s good. You know, uh, rainy.”
Darryl flashed his dazzling smile at her and headed back to his door, mail in hand. Mica tried not to watch his thigh muscles bunch and clench as he moved, or the way his pecs looked in the soft light. She locked her eyes on his face as he spoke again.
“We’ve missed you here. You staying for a while this time?”
“Well, uh, yeah, maybe. At least a week.”
“Are you hungry? I’ve got spaghetti on the stove.”
Alarm bells sounded in Mica’s brain. “Ah, thanks, but, I already ate. I have some phone calls to make so I should…” She motioned up the stairs.
The disappointed look on his face almost made her feel bad. Darryl had been showing interest in her since she first bought the townhome above him, but she’d never responded. She loved the way he looked, the clean, rugged handsomeness of him, and he certainly seemed like a nice guy, but she generally went for men who were…different. Less … muscle-y. And not quite so tall. Men who didn’t exude sex appeal.
“Well, ah, bye Darryl. Thanks again.” Mica bounded up the stairs, her face heating. It was true she generally went for men who were slim and not much taller than her, but not because she was attracted to them. More because they were safe. This was a fact she knew about herself, and more evidence that her life was messed up. That she was messed up. She knew it. But she didn’t know what to do about it.
Mica reached the top of the stairs and rounded left, heading for the door to her apartment. She saw something sitting on her welcome mat and her heart tried to leap out of her chest as adrenaline dumped into her bloodstream.
No. No. No.
Denial coursed through her brain. It couldn’t be. As she approached her door she saw it was. Another train. She reached out with trembling fingers and plucked it off the mat, turning it over at once. Two different words greeted her on the bottom of this train.
Predictable bitch.
Chapter 8
Mica
Mica sat on the dark stoop, waiting for the police to arrive, just glad Darryl hadn’t seen her come back down the stairs. There was no way she was entering her apartment on her own.
How had he gotten in to the foyer? When had he come? Before or after she’d slammed her own car into a tree? Was he watching her? Was he there, now, watching her, laughing at her?
Her eyes scanned the rows of homes across the street, then every parked car she could see. Her once-friendly, safe neighborhood seemed different, scary now. He’d been there. It seemed to her like he was having a great time messing with her. Like maybe he didn’t even want the money, what he really wanted was to steal her sanity piece by piece, rip it away from her and watch her shake in terror.
Mica bit her bottom lip and tried to feel defiant. She wouldn’t let him do that to her. She would fight him, deny him what he seemed to want. She’d find a way.
A patrol car turned out of the traffic and double-parked in front of her building. Mica stood up to greet the officers, deep shame running through her. She hated being vulnerable. Being vulnerable and alone had gotten her into this mess in the first place.
Two police officers got out, a man and a woman. The man had been driving so the woman reached her first. Mica was glad to see a woman until the officer reached her. The look on the officer’s face told her that the female officer already thought this was a bullshit call. Mica bit back her frustration. She’d just have to convince them it wasn’t.
<
br /> “You called about the harassment?” the tall, hard-looking female cop asked, her hands on her hips.
Mica looked at her name tag as the other officer came around the car to join her. Powell was her name. The stripes on her sleeve said she was a Sergeant.
“Yes, I called. It’s more than just harassment th—”
Sgt. Powell cut her off. “Just tell me what happened.”
“Well, I uh, I came home and this train was on the rug in front of my door.”
She held the train out and waited for Sgt. Powell to take it.
“You shouldn’t have touched that,” the officer told her, a look of disgust on her face. She turned to her partner. “Get the fingerprint kit.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Mica said. “I know who sent it.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Sgt. Powell said as her partner reappeared and opened a bag for Mica to drop the train into. Powell took the bag and examined the train, her eyebrows raising at the two words on the bottom. “So who left it?”
“His name’s Dick Bailey,” Mica told her in a rush. “He left me one at my house in Seattle too, but I didn’t bring it, I didn’t tell the cops either. I should have, but they weren’t very helpful when he sent me the letter and filled my mailbox with blood, so it wasn’t my first thought.”
Sgt. Powell held up her hand, stopping Mica’s flow. “What letter?”
“He sent me a letter a few weeks ago. I don’t have it anymore. The Seattle police have it.”
“A threatening letter?”
Mica grimaced. She had thought it was plenty threatening, but the cop who had come to take her information had pointed out there wasn’t an explicit threat in it. Nothing that would get him in trouble. She’d known what Bailey meant though. She decided not to tell Sgt. Powell that part for now.
“Yeah, it was threatening. And then he put blood in my mailbox.”
