Hardware

by Sara Brookes

  Patrick wondered if that was a new procurement since the day he'd bonded her to the cross or if she'd had if before they'd met. It was a question for another time. “Actually, that's perfect. I want you to slide it into yourself. Full tilt and nothing else. No moving it once it's in place, just like before at the warehouse. You don't get to fuck yourself, I'm the only one who gets that honor. Understand?”

  His words were met by silence and then she gave a quiet sigh of satisfaction. He let the silence stretch out and made her wait because he wanted to listen to her measured breaths. He imagined her as she lay in bed, her long legs spread wide and holding the device in place. The image intoxicated him more than any liquor the bar behind him served. His body hummed with arousal and he shifted the seam of his pants so they didn't press against his hardened cock.

  It took everything inside him to resist going to her so he could finish her off himself. His name was a soft whisper over the phone line and he leaned against the brick wall behind him for support at the sound of it.

  “Put the shorts on.” His voice wavered and he cleared his throat quietly. Never had he ever wanted to be somewhere else more than right now.

  “What next?” Her voice was low and seductive. His eyes fluttered closed at the hum of heightened arousal in her voice. He swallowed hard and forced himself to follow his rules.

  “Go to sleep, baby.” He ended the call abruptly and tilted his head back against the wall while his imagination kicked into overdrive. He saw her as she slept clad only in the shorts and watched as she shifted in her sleep. In his mind, she wore an expression of sheer joy and contentment.

  He dug his fingers into his eyes, imagined himself climbing into the bed with her to find out how much time would pass before he allowed her to orgasm. His mouth salivated at the thought of that first precious taste of her release as she gave herself over to him.

  The need to outright ditch Ryan and Donovan and go to her became a power struggle. His body nearly shook from the desire to have her in every way. However, the thought he would see her at the coffeehouse tomorrow, after a night where she slept with one of her toys placed securely inside her, was an alluring temptation.

  Demands were nothing new for him. He'd issued them before. But he'd never done something like this and couldn't for the life of him decide what caused him to do it in the first place. It had been highly erotic and knew without a doubt that he wouldn't harbor one ounce of regret in the morning. If he guessed correctly, she wouldn't either.

  He wanted obscene dreams to plague her the entire night. Sexually charged dreams explicit enough in detail that she would awaken in an enhanced state of arousal come morning. Dreams he would ask her to describe to him in exact, highly explicit detail the next time they were alone. The thought of those kind of words spilling from those luscious lips of hers caused him to nearly shake in anticipation.

  The smoky atmosphere of Rippers hit him full force as he stepped inside the pub and realized all of his senses were now on full alert. The phone call made him hyperaware of everything. Every scent. Every person.

  His intent had been for Allison's pleasure, but something told him he wouldn't get any rest tonight until he bled off some of the excess energy. The warehouse was empty tonight, his for whatever use he deemed necessary. Granted, his hand was a poor substitute for the feel of that slick, hot heat of hers surrounding him, but it wasn't as if he'd never jerked himself off. However, it wouldn't be fair to make Allison wait while he found relief. If he stayed at the bar for another few hours, it would ensure he would collapse into bed later, too exhausted for anything more.

  Granted the whole point of dominance and submission wasn't about fairness, but the lines continued to blur when it came to Allison. Not much, but enough that he would deny himself tonight simply because he'd deprived her.

  Ryan and Donovan both stared at him as he settled onto the barstool he'd vacated when Allison called. While he'd never been one to share specific details about his sex life, he would joke around with his closest friends about non-specifics. Those friends were the two men who sat to his left. The same ones he was annoyed with because of their earlier behavior.

  He ignored them, instead took a long swallow of his beer.

  Donovan broke the silence. “Find yourself in need of the warehouse tonight after all?”

  “Nope,” he said as he finished off the last of his beer and signaled to Beckett for another round. Cryptic seemed the best avenue to take. “She's otherwise occupied for the rest of the night.”

  “Aw, the big bad Top was shot down,” Ryan teased as he finished off his own mug of beer.

  Patrick knew of plenty instances when he'd watched Ryan get slapped down in front of a crowd of people. Just when he was about to point that fact out to his friend something else caught his attention. Something—or rather someone—that was out of place. “Be right back.”

  He tapped his hand against his thigh as he approached the small table situated in a darkened corner. The three women who sat around the table looked up at him and he nodded in their direction. While they were all dressed for a night out, the woman who sat with her back to the corner wore a frown that marred her pretty angular face. He didn't blame her, he was probably the last person she wanted to see.

  “Vivian.”

  His estranged sister-in-law scowled as she tossed her black hair over one shoulder and took a sip of her drink. “Spying for Nick?”

  Her two companions snorted and shot him vile looks, which he ignored. “No, Vivian. Not that I need to explain to you, but it was a last minute decision to come here. What's going on between you and Nick is between the two of you. I have nothing to do with it.”

  She made a noise he didn't think was very ladylike, even for her. “I think you have more to do with it than you realize. Goodnight, Patrick.”

  The dismissal was unmistakable and Patrick lifted his head as he backed away from the table. He knew when to cut his losses and after that statement, it was clear Vivian was not in a friendly mood. He wasn't of the mind to ruin his good mood, especially not from some cryptic remark from his soon-to-be ex-sister-in-law.

  She wasn't worth it.

  An empty beer glass on the bar acted like a paperweight for the twenty he used to pay his tab. “Thanks for the beer, gentleman. Unfortunately, I'm going to call it a night.”

  The rude comments from both Ryan and Donovan made about just where he was really headed were ignored and he pushed through the front door. The brisk air cleared the smoke from his lungs and despite the quick glance at the vicinity of Allison's, he turned in the opposite direction, toward his loft.

  He really would have preferred to go to her—if only to find out if she really carried out his request. But Vivian's comments left an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was something his brother hadn't told him and he intended to find out just what it was. Unfortunately, his cell phone's clock indicated it was too late to do anything about it now.

  It was best to call it a night. It had been one hell of day.

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  * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  The orgasm ripped through Allison the moment her eyes opened and she gasped into the empty bedroom. She grabbed for the sheet under her in order to have something to hold onto. It was a quick hit that faded just as rapidly as it appeared and she blinked at the ceiling a few times, tried to gain her bearings.

  Her entire body tingled—both from the remnants of the orgasm and a night spent sleeping with one of her toys inside of her. It hadn't been hard to follow Patrick's request once he cut the phone call. Exhausted from the rigors of the day, she'd nearly been out like a light before her head hit the pillow. In a deep sleep, her dreams had been filled with stunning images. Explicit imagery she would have never thought her own brain capable of.

  A quick glance at the alarm clock on her bedside table indicated that she was a few minutes late. She had a quick debate with herself on whether or not to go to work
or remain right where she was. That argument was brought to an abrupt halt when Boo—short for Boolean—the homeless cat who'd adopted her two years ago while she was on her way home from work one night, jumped onto the bed and whined loudly for his breakfast.

  Twenty minutes later, freshly showered and owner of a cat with a full belly, she locked her front door and trotted down the stairs. The bright sunlight of the morning greeted her as she stepped out onto the sidewalk and automatically headed for Perfect Shot.

  She strolled down the sidewalk and thought of Patrick and how he'd given her the instructions. Even on the phone, he'd been authoritative and she'd wanted to follow his every demand. He hadn't even been there and he still overwhelmed her. The need to obey was there simply because there was no other option in her mind. It amazed her how easily she had slipped into the role of a submissive.

  There would be no way to forget how he'd sounded on the phone last night. Firm and demanding, yet she'd be able to detect a hint of strain to his voice as he'd spoken. He hadn't been as calm and collected as he'd tried to sound like the Top he claimed to be. It was the second time she'd identified a crack in his tough exterior and a nice little secret she would hold close to her heart for the time being. When the time was right, she'd tell him.

  For now, the thought made her smile.

  The narrow sidewalk passed quickly beneath her feet and the fresh scent of blooming flowers drifted to her on the soft spring breeze. The season was in full swing and while it wasn't her favorite season by a long shot, she certainly had a new outlook on life. Her mood lifted even more the closer she got to Perfect Shot. By the time she reached it, she nearly walked on air.

  The small bell over the door of the coffeehouse sang as she stepped inside to find a line of customers. They all waited patiently to order. Patrick was behind the counter and prepared orders much more efficiently than several weeks ago.

  His gaze met hers, his knowing smile caused her stomach to flip in a lazy somersault. Muscles deep inside immediately tightened and she nearly gasped in surprise. The instructions for her last night had made her much more aware of her entire body. Being near him apparently heightened those sensations even more.

  Oh, I could get used to this.

  It was then she realized why the phone call with him had turned out as it had. The direction he'd purposefully taken it once he'd heard she was exhausted by her horrible day.

  Her body was now in a perpetual state of arousal and it wouldn't be satisfied until proper relief vented some of it. That relief was Patrick and there was no doubt in her mind he knew it. It was a form of delicious torture and they'd barely lifted a finger.

  Need spiked and swelled so quickly, she almost felt uncomfortable. It caused her to swallow hard as she carefully stepped into place at the back of the line. He signaled for her to join him behind the counter, but politely shook her head no. She needed some distance from him for the moment. If she didn't, the other customers would find themselves observers of several of those very pornographic images she'd dreamed last night.

  It was ten minutes before it was her turn to order. Those minutes weren't nearly enough time to settle herself to rights and she stepped up hesitantly to the counter. Afraid of what could happen in the next few seconds, she pressed her palms against the cold metal and used it to focus.

  She couldn't find the presence of mind to speak, so he was the one who spoke first. “Good morning, Allison. Would you like your usual?” His tone was clear and bright and gave no hint of the devilish man who'd been on the phone with her last night.

  For that, she was grateful. Of course, they were in public and she suspected that fact had a lot to do with it. “Yes, please.”

  He moved away to prepare the double espresso for her, allowed her to observe him at work. Those talented hands of his cradled a steaming pitcher as he waited for the espresso to brew. She tried not to notice how his biceps bunched and flexed as he pulled out a gallon of skim milk to dump into the pitcher for the next customer who inevitably came along and ordered a latte.

  When he turned to replace the container in the refrigerator opposite the bar, it was everything she could do to not vault over the counter and sink her teeth into his flesh. It wouldn't take much to make a few of those dreams a reality. To strip each other of clothing, suck and lick every exposed piece of flesh. To listen as sweat drenched skin glided together when he stood behind her and slowly fucked her as she leaned over the wide coffee bar.

  She could almost feel the length of him inside her as he moved with sure, even strokes. As he purposefully denied her release or commanded she come so he could feel her muscles spasm around him.

  Even better was the image she created in her mind about something they hadn't gotten around to. Her mouth watered as she thought about the way his cock would feel against her tongue as she brought him to climax.

  “How did you sleep?” he asked as he slid the take-out cup across the counter toward her. She shook off the images and met his gaze. Her chest gave a hard hitch and she leaned against that very same counter for support.

  “Fine.” Her voice sounded a little strained and hoped she had been the only one able to detect it. Most of all she didn't want to add sheer embarrassment to the rush of emotion she experienced. Besides, it would take the edge off her craving for him and that was the last thing she wanted.

  “I'm glad to hear it.” He pushed a damp towel over the counter as he swept away a few crumbs an earlier customer had dropped. “I had a very, very long night myself. Oddly enough, my mind seemed to be focused elsewhere.”

  His gaze lowered to some point below her side of the counter and heat speared down between her legs. Her body screamed for the man across from her and was very tempted to listen to it with utter disregard for the mixed company.

  He cleared his throat before he spoke again. “I can't seem to think why however. Perhaps you know?”

  Just as she was about to tell him in vivid detail, his expression changed. She guessed a customer had just walked up behind her and changed her mind. She licked her dry lips and shook her head. There was no way to respond how she wanted because she would have told him exactly what she was feeling. Instead, she settled for innuendo. “Give me a call later and maybe we can come to a resolution together.”

  She walked out of the store before he could respond because she was fairly certain he wouldn't be as judicious with his words. He'd been right on the edge of out of control and that was something she found herself drawn to. Given different circumstances, they would have undoubtedly been all over each other.

  Now instead, she had to go to work and suffer through the next nine hours thanks to an intense conversation with her boyfriend. She stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk and stammered out an apology to the man who walked into her.

  Boyfriend.

  She'd just referred to Patrick as her boyfriend.

  Was that what he was?

  The past few weeks they'd spent together certainly spoke volumes. The movies they'd seen. The dinners they'd had together nearly every night for a week solid and the meal they shared at least once a week after that. And even the time they'd spent as they'd got to know one another—both sexually and personally.

  She knew about the rocky childhood he'd had with his mother because of the choices he'd made in high school that pertained to his studies and baseball. He knew about the accident with her bike that had given her the small scar over her eyebrow when she was fourteen.

  They knew personal and intimate details about each other. People only shared that type of information when they dated.

  Whenever something went right—or more importantly, wrong—at work, he was the one she wanted to talk to about it. A perfect example of such a case was last night. She'd called him to blow off a little steam because Stephen had been such an asshole yesterday.

  She also realized it wasn't just relegated to just work either. Whenever she'd done something in a gaming session that she'd been previously unsuccessful with
, he was the one she talked to—not her gaming buddies. Even though Patrick didn't have a clue what she talked about, he'd still listened attentively and even asked questions about it with genuine curiosity. He'd made the everyday seem important and it made her want to be with him even more.

  Oh God, he is my boyfriend.

  Surprised, she fumbled the cup in her hand and managed to right it before she spilled too much. The hot liquid burned the side of her hand and she absently wiped it on her pants as she moved again.

  She had no idea when it had happened either. Had she more experience in the area, she would have probably noticed sooner. Her last steady boyfriend had been just after she'd graduated college and he'd dumped her for some secretary who had a knack for wearing clothes two sizes too small.

  Sometime during the past few weeks, they'd become a couple. He was someone she cared deeply for and couldn't imagine her life now without him in it in some capacity.

  It caused her to wonder if Patrick felt the same about her.

  Patrick rang up the pound of decaf coffee beans the customer ordered and approved the sale after she swiped the credit card through the machine. “Do you want these ground, Ms. Teefer?”

  The kind woman who lived in an apartment over the coffeehouse gave him a warm smile and shook her head. “No. My grandson likes it freshly ground and he won't arrive for few days. I picked up one of those grinders on the wall over there yesterday so he can have freshly ground coffee every day.”

  He watched the portly woman wind her way through the tables and shook his head. No doubt, she would find some way to return before her grandson arrived. People who lived alone such as she did tended to show up at the coffeehouse just to have company to converse with.

  With the break in the crowd, he started to clean the ceramic cups that he'd dumped in the sink behind him during the morning rush. The simplicity of the chore allowed his mind to wander and it wasn't long before he thought about how he'd felt when Allison had stepped into the shop earlier. The expression on her face said a lot. The tension in her body indicated that she'd followed his instructions to the letter. It made him anxious to talk with her more in-depth to discover how the night had gone.