In the Bedroom with the Rope: Tied in Knots (4 page)

“You want my advice? Do her, get her out of your system and move the fuck on.”

Trevor’s jaw dropped. “Dude, you know what happened to her! I doubt she’s ready for any kind of a relationship.” Especially not his preferred kind. Although, oddly enough, his fantasies had included a lot more lace and soft candle light and less leather and restraints lately.

“Who said anything about a relationship? Help her bounce back with a boink. Sex is empowering.” Murphy clapped him on the shoulder. “You should have been back on the job weeks ago. But you’re holding back because this isn’t a sanctioned investigation and you have no way to justify this to the captain.”

Trevor gripped the counter until his knuckles turned white. “It’s not like that. My gut is telling me she’s still a target.”

Murphy’s cell phone trilled, breaking the tense silence. He looked at the display then swore. “Crime scene. Guess I’ll take that coffee to go.”

“Thanks for stopping by,” Trevor said dryly.

Murphy helped himself to a travel mug. “I know you don’t want to hear it but being a friend means telling hard truths. You’re using this girl as an excuse to hide from the world.”

Trevor grit his teeth, unwilling to speak his mind and ruin their friendship permanently. He wasn’t used to being on the opposite side of an issue from his partner. “She needs protection. You and I both know the LVMPD won’t do shit for her. But I can help her. If I just quit and something happens to her that I could have prevented, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Murphy shook his head. “Whatever, man. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Chapter Three

S
amantha’s panties were wet.

All through her staff meeting she squirmed, distracted by the sensation of wet silk against her blood-engorged tissues and haunted by the memories of Trevor Harrison shoving his powerful body against hers until they both came like rockets soaring toward the sky.

“Anything else to add?” Stella stared at her, an odd expression on her face.

“I’m good.” Samantha chirped. There had been a dozen little things she meant to cover at the staff meeting but she couldn’t recall a single one, her focus on getting home and feeding the need Trevor’s body had brought roaring back with a vengeance.

The bartenders and waitstaff trickled from the room at a snail’s pace. Sam would have snuck out the back but Stella cornered her first. “What the hell is the matter with you?” I’ve never seen you so flustered.”

“Just distracted is all. No biggie.” Sam tried to scoot by. “I need to duck out early. Appointment. See you tomorrow?” It wasn’t a lie, she did have an appointment with her therapist later and it was one excuse Stella wouldn’t question.

“Sure,” Stella’s bewildered gaze followed her all the way down the hall to her office. True to his word, Trevor had departed during the staff meeting. Disappointment warred with relief. God, the way he’d touched her, almost worshipfully. Her new neighbor had done in ten minutes what months of therapy and attempted self-love hadn’t been able to do.

 He’d made her crave sex again.

And dear God, did she ever crave it now.

Picking up her purse, Samantha fished out her keys and headed straight for the door. Her sex clenched with every step, her clit throbbing between her heartbeats. She’d come hard, pinned against the door with Trevor’s hard length nestled between her legs, but now she craved a deeper fulfillment. The kind only achieved with penetration.

The short drive home seemed torturously prolonged and she forced herself to maintain the speed limit. Trevor’s driveway was empty, his big black truck nowhere in sight. Probably for the best, because the way she felt right now, she might tackle him in the doorway, strip off his pants and have her wicked way with him.

And then they’d have to talk about it, she’d have to tell him why she attacked his body like a starving woman plopped in front of a banquet. And rehashing her sordid history would douse the spark and drive her back into her orgasmless existence.

Nope, better to skip it altogether.

Her hands shook and she fumbled her house key, attempting to unlock the door. Despite the heat, her nipples were hard points against her tank top. Finally, she made it inside and securely locked the door behind her, disabling the security system and resetting it for occupancy. If anyone tried to force a window or a door, the system would alert her security company and the police immediately.

Drunk with desire, Samantha scrambled up the stairs to her bedroom. Bypassing the iPod dock and candles, she made a b-line for the closet and withdrew her stash of sex toys. No need to set the mood, she was already on the verge, her body demanding release.

Setting the box within easy reach, she stripped down to her saturated panties and lay on the bed, petting her sensitized skin. It felt so damn good, so right after months of nothing much. But not as good as Trevor’s hands on her flesh, Trevor’s lips on her neck, his hot breaths against her ears.

What would he say if he was with her right now? She imagined him the way she’d first seen him, naked, on his back with his hand gripping his cock. Her brain took it from there, imagining those sensual lips forming the words, “I showed you mine, now let me see yours.”

Sam’s eyelids slid down at the same time as her hands. Her breasts, full and heavy demanded attention. She plumped them, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure, putting them on display for imaginary Trevor.

Her nipples were hard as she pinched them, sending little bites of pleasure straight down to her sex. Her legs fell open and one hand skimmed her belly to stroke over the plump lips through the fabric.

“Just like that,” her pretend lover whispered. “Check you out, all hot and wet.”

Pressing down, she let out a gasp. The fabric molded to every feminine contour, saturated by her desire.

She imagined him peeling her underwear off, sliding them down her legs and tossing them over his shoulder, before pressing her thighs open wide. “Now, really touch yourself for me, Samantha. Show me what you crave.”

Her breaths were uneven as her fingers hovered over bare flesh. Between the orgasm and this burning need, her core was soaked. Ignoring her clit, she slid her fingers deep into her body, her long dormant sex muscles squeezing them hard.

“You need something in that sweet little cunt, don’t you? Something hard to fuck yourself with.”

“Yes,” she groaned, driving the digits deeper. They weren’t nearly long enough to satisfy. She imagined him picking through her goodie box, choosing just the right tool for the job. Her own hand reached for the gently curved vibrator, the one that would nestle snuggly against her G-spot and bring her to a screaming orgasm.

The toy shimmied to life and she held it against her clit, tempted to let herself come that way.

“Turn over,” he ordered, his voice full of the power of command.

She had no idea where the fantasy came from but didn’t question it. Rolling to her stomach, she spread her legs wide, as though putting on a show for him. The bulbous head pressed once more to her clit, until her body shook with need. She drew the toy down to her saturated opening and pressed the fullness inside.

“So pretty,” he murmured in her mind as she made slow circles around her clit.

She could almost feel his big hands stroking over the curve of her backside, his rough palms exploring her smooth skin until she arched into the pretend touch. Nothing was sacred, at least not in the bubble she’d entered. Hands caressed every millimeter of her exposed flesh, over her shoulder, along her spine to the crease between her buttocks. He kissed her scarred legs, slowly, as though worshiping the ruined flesh. The hand on her sex went faster as her imaginary lover worked higher, relentlessly seeking her secrets.

She gasped as she took hold of the phallus buried inside and fucked herself with it. She bucked, working the toy into just the right position as her fantasy took on a life of its own . She could almost imagine the scrape of his whiskers against the sensitive skin between her spread cheeks. She groaned his name, as his tongue flicked out, dabbing the small virgin opening.

“I want this,” his voice was deep, almost guttural as he set to work, licking the entrance to her forbidden passage, working her open with fingers and tongue almost frantically. Distantly she realized it was her fingers, coated with her sex juice rubbing against the puckered ring, but imaging Trevor’s insistence that he would have all of her sent her flying into orbit, crying his name.

****

“Jesus,” Trevor whispered, gaze glued to the laptop screen. Apples spilled every which way from the bag of groceries he’d dropped when he’d first caught sight of what Samantha was doing. But he couldn’t bring himself to pick them up.

 
She’s not supposed to be home.
The idiotic though bounced around inside his skull like a ping pong ball. Samantha was a creature of habit. She worked at the bar until six, then Monday’s Wednesdays and Fridays she went to her therapist, the one place he hadn’t been able to watch her. She should be bent over her bookkeeping not masturbating like there was no tomorrow. It was ten to five, she shouldn’t be there, in her room his mind insisted even as he watched her reach for the dildo, her wet pussy spread and ready for action.

Vibrator, he amended when she turned it on and used the buzzing end to frig her hard little clit. Goddamn, watching her play with herself was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He wanted to see more, to see all of her, especially her plump backside.

Then she turned over as though giving him exactly what he wanted. His legs gave out as she slid the toy into her body and one hand roved over her sweet cheeks, exploring the pale globes of her ass.

His throat was dry but his mouth watered for a taste of the delectable bits she revealed in this private show.

Private, as in party for one. You’re crashing, dickhead.

Watching her, no matter how enticing, was wrong. Even as it seemed like she was putting on a show for him, he knew better. Samantha thought she was alone, indulging in a private sensual moment. He should pick up his fucking groceries and leave her to it.

“Trevor,” she moaned, spreading her legs wider. His spine stiffened as though it’d been starched.

She’s fantasizing about me. All bets are off.

Wild horses couldn’t have dragged him away as her hips moved in time to the thrusting toy. Her middle finger danced lightly over her puckered hole, tantalizing the nerves there. Would her fingers push inside, penetrating her body there as well?

His cock pressed insistently against the denim, pleading for release. He ignored it, unwilling to waste a second tending his own pleasure, hers was that addictive.

Her finger pressed down on her anus, but didn’t slide inside. She tensed and then cried his name again as release shook her lush body. She trembled, withdrawing the toy and then curled onto her side, her expression satisfied, even blissful. It was such a far cry from the hyper terror when he’d been with her that he wondered. What was he doing in her mind? If he had that information, he’d gladly volunteer to do it in person, just so he could see her so relaxed in the flesh.

For the second time in twenty four hours, Trevor was in danger of coming in his pants. He averted his eyes and took deep breaths, willing his body to relax. He wanted nothing to ruin his enjoyment of seeing Samantha Jacobs in post orgasmic bliss.

His thoughts, muddied from unspent lust, came to a screeching halt.

Murphy was right—the rat bastard. Watching Samantha was no longer about protecting her, not when he got such enjoyment from it. He wanted more than to keep her safe, but how much more could he handle? And what about Samantha? He’d been able to maintain his distance before, thinking her fragile and easily broken but after witnessing two of her orgasms, he was completely hooked. If she gave him permission, he’d make her come five times a day but would she want him in the flesh?