by Lane Hart
“I don’t think that about you,” I reply. “I think you use sex to distract men and to distract yourself from something. I just want to know what.”
“No, you don’t. Men always prefer the instant gratification from my mouth or one of the other holes in my body. And that’s fine with me as long as I have fun too. So either fuck me or let me go, Conrad.” She tries to jerk her wrists out of my grip, but I only hold on to them tighter because I don’t want to let her go yet. Although, I’m not going to fuck her either.
“Can I kiss you?” I ask her. I want to prove to her that it’s possible to kiss her without screwing her, and also I need to know if our second kiss will be as hot as our first one.
Hannah’s hands still in my grip, and then she lowers her eyes and scoffs. “What?”
I pull her up to her feet and press her wrists to the small of her back, making her back arch and her chest rub against mine because that’s how close I’m standing to her. When she looks up at my face, I ask her again. “Can I kiss you? I should’ve asked you before in the car when you couldn’t get away.”
“I just told you to fuck me,” she responds.
“Yes, but you didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes, you can kiss me, preferably on my –”
With a tilt of my head, I shut her up with my lips and tongue. And when Hannah whimpers and then reciprocates every slide of my tongue with hers, the answer is yes, the second kiss is just as scorching hot as the first. But it’s just a kiss and nothing else.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
I eventually let go of Hannah’s wrists to grip either side of her face. Her fingers grab onto the front of my cut, and then I let her push me down to the mattress without our mouths separating. I’ve barely sat down when she straddles my lap, putting her in the dominant position. And I’m okay with that. It feels so nice and natural to have her on top of me, her arms wound tightly around my neck, my hands grabbing her ass to hold it up before she can lower her body and grind it on my cock. It takes all of my strength too, not because she can overpower me, but because the longer the kiss goes on the weaker I become, wanting more. Still, I don’t give in. I can’t and I won’t.
Chapter Eighteen
Hannah
* * *
Making out with a man is so nice, reminding me of my high school days with Jeremy before everything went to hell.
Kissing Conrad feels safe. He said it wouldn’t lead to more, and I believe him, even if my body is begging for him to rip my clothes off and touch me everywhere.
He won’t, so I don’t push him too hard.
At least not at first.
Whenever I try to lower my hips to his crotch, his fingers dig into the jiggly parts of my ass cheeks, holding my hips up, making me smile against his mouth before his lips whisper, “Stop it,” and we go back to kissing like the world would end if we stop.
Conrad tastes delicious and smells even better – like sweaty man and leather with a touch of his citrus-and-sandalwood-scented body wash or deodorant from this morning. Everything about him is comforting and calming.
The one thing I can’t figure out is why he’s kissing me when he insists nothing else will happen. Isn’t kissing just supposed to be foreplay?
When Conrad pulls away to lie back on the bed, his eyes heavy, I start to think he’s changed his mind before he says. “I’m too tired to keep sitting up.”
He’s been sleeping less than I have during the night, always up before me and tossing and turning restlessly before having to drive all day.
“So go to sleep,” I tell him while still straddling his hips, happy to at least pretend I’m in control for a little while.
“Not yet. It hasn’t been an hour.” Grabbing my shoulders, he pulls my mouth down to his again for another slow, sweet kiss that goes on and on. And when he stops holding my hips up, I lower them down to meet his hard length, making both of us groan into each other’s mouths. I expect him to put a stop to things right then and there, but Conrad lets me keep grinding on his rigid cock that is hitting just the right spot through the seam of my shorts. I’m not the only one getting worked up. It only takes a few minutes before we’re both panting so hard it’s impossible for us to keep kissing.
The heat inside of me keeps growing and building hotter until I’m so close to coming I would cry if Conrad made me stop. Thankfully he doesn’t. His big hands loosely hold my waist while his heated blue eyes lock with mine, watching intently as my hips buck. My lips part on a gasp when I start to tremble from my release. Conrad is so gorgeous that even still fully clothed underneath me I think I could come from just looking at him.
Based on the way his golden, unshaved jaw is clenching, I’m guessing he’s just as turned on as I am. My inner walls are still clenching around the emptiness when Conrad holds my hips down on his dick, a pained expression on his face as his eyes slam shut. Knowing he’s probably getting off almost has me orgasming again.
His body gradually relaxes, and then he opens his eyes. With a grin he tells me softly, “Guess I was wrong.”
“Guess you were,” I say with my own smile before we both start laughing at the fact that we may not have had sex or even taken our clothes off, but we still both got off.
“I should probably go clean up,” he says, rubbing his palms up and down my sides before we both laugh again at how absurd it is for a grown man like him to come in his pants without actually being touched.
Before he insists that I climb off him, I ask, “Could we sleep in the same bed tonight?”
“Just sleep?” he reiterates. I’m not sure if he wants me to say yes or no to more. So I decide to answer with my own preference. And for the first time in a long time, it’s not for sex.
“Just sleep,” I agree.
Right now, I feel close to Conrad, closer than I think I’ve felt to anyone in a long time, like he actually sees all of me, even the parts I try to hide. I don’t want to let that connection slip away just yet even if it is probably just a mirage caused by endorphins. I think at the moment I want to be near a man more than I need to have him inside of me for once. Conrad is right – I usually need sex and alcohol to distract me from all the shit that makes me sad and depressed. But at the moment, being with him is enough.
“Okay,” he thankfully agrees. “Let’s sleep in the bed by the door,” he adds, and I know it’s because he doesn’t trust me not to sneak out while he’s asleep.
Honestly, though, where the hell would I go if I did decide to try and leave?
Home may be the last place I want to be, but it’s all I’ve got unless I want to go back and live with Bob. I don’t have any money of my own, so in a way, I guess I was trading my former professor sex for a place to live after I got kicked out of school. I don’t want to do that anymore, so if I have to deal with my father for a few weeks until I can earn enough money to find my own place, I guess that’s what I’ll have to do as much as I hate it.
Unless I can convince Conrad to let me stay with him instead…
Conrad
* * *
The long days on the road and anxiety-filled nights trying to stay half-awake to make sure Hannah doesn’t leave has left me exhausted emotionally and physically.
With her backside molded to the front of my body, my arm thrown over her waist, I know I’ll sleep sounder because if she moves, I’ll wake up.
Two more days, one more night.
Instead of looking forward to the end being in sight, I’m actually a little sad that my time with Hannah is winding down to the end.
She may have been wild and stubborn at first, but by now I think she’s accepted the fact that I’m taking her home and there’s nothing she can do to change that.
I still wish I knew why she hates her father. I couldn’t imagine holding a grudge against either of my parents, one so strong that I would go years without seeing them or my brother. Whatever the chief did to her, it must have been fucked-up.
But
unless Hannah tells me he hurt her or abused her in some way, I have to take her to him. I don’t want to lose my family due to my perversions, and Hannah hasn’t told me anything that makes me think rehab isn’t the right choice for her. I’ll get her there, let her get the help she needs to get straightened out, and then check in on her to see…well, just to make sure she’s okay.
Chapter Nineteen
Conrad
* * *
The next morning, I wake up feeling refreshed and even almost back to my normal self by the time I get my shower and wake up Hannah for hers.
I’ve ordered room service for breakfast, healthy foods since lunch will have to be fast food and we skipped dinner last night.
While I wait for Hannah to finish up in the bathroom, I get on the floor and do my daily reps of push-ups and core work, missing the gym after not being active for days and all the junk food I’ve been eating.
When we sit down at the small table in the room to eat, it begins to feel normal and familiar being together, like a habit I could get used to.
Once I’m finished eating, I tell Hannah, “If you promise to behave, I won’t make you wear the restraints today.”
“I don’t mind them,” she replies between bites of a giant red strawberry.
“You don’t mind not being able to lift your arms for eight hours a day?” I ask in disbelief.
“I don’t mind,” she repeats with a shrug of one of her shoulders, and I actually believe her. Which is a relief.
“Classic case of Stockholm syndrome,” I tease her. “You’ve not only accepted that you’re a hostage, but you’ve actually started to like being held captive.”
Sighing, Hannah swallows her bite of strawberry and says, “You’re just doing your job, and I don’t have anywhere else to go. The longer I’m sober, the more I can understand and appreciate that. Doesn’t mean I would choose it myself, but what else is there for me to do?”
“That’s true,” I agree.
My cell phone dings with a new message. Before I pull it out of my jeans pocket, I’m guessing it’s the police chief. Cannon and my dad would call if it were something important.
Status?
One word is his way of asking about his daughter. Except I don’t think that’s necessarily true. He just wants to know the status of when I’ll be dropping her off at the rehab center he sent me the address for yesterday. In fact, he hasn’t asked about how Hannah is doing this entire time.
I try to be as brief as I can with my response.
She’ll be there tomorrow.
He wasn’t thrilled by my delay of driving instead of flying, and I didn’t go into details, just told him that our plans changed.
If he knew what we’ve really been up to, there would be a bullet in his gun with my name on it.
Hannah
* * *
“Who did you use these restraints on?” I suddenly ask into the silence as we start our second half of the day’s drive. I’m not sure why I didn’t think about it before now, but Conrad is obviously into the bondage kink, and if he had these, then there must have been a woman who wore them. Or maybe even several women have had the honor. I hate them all.
“What does it matter?” Conrad responds while keeping his eyes on the road.
“I’m just curious who you fucked while they were wearing them. I hope you sanitized them afterward,” I huff.
“Don’t worry, they’re clean. It’s been almost a year since they were used that way.”
“That way?” I repeat. “You mean when you fucked a woman who was wearing them.”
He doesn’t say anything, which I know means it’s true.
“Who was she?” I ask, wanting to know for some stupid reason. “Why has it been almost a year? Did you break up?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” he replies, which pisses me off.
“You know about Bob, so I should at least get to hear about one of your exes. Come on. Tell me. Please?” I beg.
“We dated for a few months after we met at a BDSM club,” he finally tells me. “She was a submissive, but she wanted to be dominated by more than one man at the same time.”
“Oh,” I mutter. “She wanted a threesome, and you weren’t down for that.”
“Nope.”
“Was she the only woman to wear them?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“And you kept them because you were hoping to find someone else who enjoyed being your captive?” I guess.
“I’m done with them,” Conrad says, still not meeting my eyes in the rearview. “Once I get you back to town, I’m throwing them away.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to move on before anyone in my life finds out about it.”
“It being your fetish?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer. “There’s nothing wrong with fetishes as long as both participants agree on them and both enjoy them. Or all participants, I guess I should say…” After that comment, Conrad glares at me through the rearview. Guess the multiple partner thing is a sore spot for him. “You’re a guy, you can do whatever you want in bed and no one would bat an eye,” I tell him. “Me on the other hand, I’ve been slut-shamed by the world since I was fifteen.”
“Who slut-shamed you?” he asks.
“Ah, well, everyone I went to high school and college with, teachers, my parents.”
“Your parents slut-shamed you?”
“Well, mostly my father, but my mother didn’t disagree with him when he called me a slut and a whore, or when he grounded me for having sex before I was married.”
“Super-religious upbringing?” Conrad asks.
“That didn’t help, but no, it was mostly because he was the police chief, and he was worried about what people would think if his teenage daughter got knocked up under his roof on his watch. So, he was demeaning and controlling in a slightly different way than your preferred methods.”
“I don’t get off on demeaning women,” he grumbles.
“But you do like to be in control,” I remark with a grin.
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
Conrad may be dominating because it turns him on, but after the past few days, I’ve realized that it’s not just for his own benefit. He’s tried to take care of me, even when I wouldn’t take care of myself.
I’ve also learned that the one thing that drives him crazy and gets him wound up more than anything is being out of control.
Chapter Twenty
Conrad
* * *
When I come out of the bathroom, Hannah’s got the TV on. I can’t see the screen at first, but it only takes about ten seconds of hearing the slapping of flesh and moans before I realize it’s porn.
“You’re worse than a child. Or my brother,” I mutter when I stroll up to the bed she’s stretched out on, still restrained because I only had time to move the bed in front of the door of tonight’s hotel room before my bladder exploded. “Give me the remote,” I demand, holding out my palm, refusing to look at what the people are doing to each other on the screen.
“Isn’t this what you like?”
“Where is it?” I ask, avoiding her question. I slip my hand under her back and her ass in search of the remote before I see the bulge in the front of her shorts. Even with her hands restrained she must have been able to shove it down them. “Do you have any idea how dirty that remote is? Men have probably come all over it,” I tell her.
Grinning up at me, she says, “It’s even dirtier now that it’s in my panties.”
For fuck’s sake, I didn’t need that imagery in my head. It’s bad enough that the ones of Hannah naked on her knees and riding me to orgasm through her clothes are taking up space where they shouldn’t.
“Take it out,” I tell her.
“You take it out.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” I accuse her. I slide my fingers up one of the legs of her shorts to try and get to the remote, but the denim is too tight. I’m gonna have to go down the front.
>
“You can pretend like you don’t like it, but we both know you do,” Hannah says when I pop the button on her shorts and then pull the zipper down, revealing her light pink cotton panties. The protruding shape of the remote is obviously underneath them, and fuck, there’s a small spot of wetness below it. I hadn’t even realized I had been staring at her panties for so long until she says, “Tonight’s our last night together, and I charged over a hundred dollars in porn to your credit card. It would be a shame to let it all go to waste, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re crazy,” I tell her when I pull out the tiny keys from my jeans pocket and start unlocking the ankle cuffs. I’ll release her wrists next, and then she can pull the remote out herself.
“Wait! Don’t you want to do what you bought the restraints for in the first place before you throw them away?” she asks.
The answer is fuck yes. I’ve wanted her since the second I saw her in that asshole’s house, naked other than his shirt. For days it’s felt like I’ve been the one wearing shackles, forcing myself to not touch Hannah despite the pull I feel toward her continuing to grow and intensify with every second that I’m near her. Since we met, she’s been freer than I have ever been even though she’s the one wearing the restraints.
“I need you, Conrad,” she says. “You never give yourself a break. You really are a good guy, so let go with me and be a little bad, just for tonight.”
“Just for tonight?” I repeat, and she nods while biting her bottom lip.
I wish I was strong enough to resist her offer. But I’m not. I’ve been telling myself for days that I was, but it was a lie. This is what I’ve wanted the entire time – Hannah laid out on a bed, wrists bound to her thighs, ankle spreader keeping her legs only a few inches apart, and mine for the taking.
