Stepping out into the cooler evening air, he looked up at the star-studded inky sky, hoping Leland was settled in bed in front of his television by the time he got home. To his surprise, the few times his dad had brought up Brittany in the past few days, it was without leveling an accusation of blame on Kurt. While he couldn’t say Leland’s overall attitude had done a one-eighty, he could admit it appeared he was trying to get along. With luck, Kurt would get caught up on the business side of the ranch before his old man showed his true colors and they got into it again.
Leslie entered her favorite corner market and stepped into a nightmare. As if hearing the cruel mocking laughter echoing from the front wasn’t bad enough, the loud rapport of a gunshot as she stepped around the corner sent a wave of terror through her. Shock rooted her in place as she witnessed the two teens putting a bullet in the owner’s head, the spray of blood and brain matter sending bile rushing up to clog her throat. Without thinking, she dashed back out before either assailant noticed her, jumped into her car and sped toward the nearest police precinct. Knowing her fond memories of Alessandro, the owner, were forever blocked by that gruesome, heartbreaking, frightening moment blinded her with tears as her whole body shook in reaction. On her way home from a date that had ended like all the others, with little interest in taking things further, a sudden craving for Alessandro’s cannoli had hit her as she’d passed by and noticed a light still shone in the back window.
Little did she know that identifying the Glascott brothers as Alessandro’s killers would be the beginning of another bad dream.
Leslie rolled over in bed with a groan, wishing the memories away so she could get back to sleep. But as she drifted off again, the cold eyes and sneering faces of those two wealthy, pampered young men intruded once again.
“Are you sure, positively sure, the two defendants are the ones you saw kill Alessandro Carmichael on the night of April sixth?”
Leslie shifted her gaze from the DA to the two unrepentant teens. Only eighteen and nineteen and the young men would spend the rest of their lives behind bars. “Yes, I’m sure. Those two are the ones I saw.”
Jason Glascott surged to his feet before his high-priced attorney could stop him. “I’ll bury you, bitch!” he roared as he made to climb over the table. While he was quickly restrained, his brother gave her a cold stare and ran one finger across his throat, mimicking a knife slice.
Shivering in reaction as the courtroom erupted in a frenzy of shouting, Leslie grabbed Detective Reynold’s arm as soon as he rushed to her side. “Come on. You’re done here,” he said in a tight voice, shielding her as much as possible as he guided her toward the exit.
Just as they reached the wide double doors, the teens’ father, Edwin, brushed by her, close enough to bend down and whisper, “You’ll never be safe,” before disappearing into the crowd.
Jerking upright in bed, Leslie swiped a shaking hand over her damp brow as she blinked awake. She thought she was over the nightmares that had plagued her for months after she entered the Witness Protection program. The attempted mugging last week must have affected her more strongly than she’d first thought, triggering the fear and uncertainty of her circumstances again.
“Enough already,” she muttered, flinging the covers off and sliding out of bed. The early morning sky shone dull and gray through the closed blinds and she could feel her spirits toward facing another weekend alone taking a nosedive. Padding into the bathroom, she stripped off her nightshirt and stepped into the miniscule shower, contemplating returning to The Barn tonight. She needed to force herself out of the funk she’d allowed herself to wallow in for too long, the ‘poor me’ pity party that had led her to risk a one-night stand with a stranger.
But hot damn, what a stranger, and what a night. Just thinking about Kurt and the orgasms he had wrung from her with his take charge dominance could still produce small shivers of remembered pleasure. When he’d tossed her on her bed, lifted her legs over his shoulders and buried his mouth between them, she’d splintered apart within seconds, and that was only minutes after climaxing under him on the couch. But the way he’d awoken her several hours later would be forever seared into her memory. To erase the remnants of her bad dreams, she leaned against the tile wall and tried to remember that night.
Leslie groaned in groggy awareness of hard hands rolling her over onto her stomach. Snuggling down into her pillow with intentions of going back to sleep, she was ja
rred into full wakefulness by a sharp slap on her right buttock. “Oh, God,” she mumbled into the pillow when the next cheek bouncing smack landed on her left globe. She refused to look around at the stranger delivering that welcome stinging burn, a desired sensation she hadn’t felt in way too long. The dark room lent an intimacy to the shift of their naked bodies against the sheets and their deep breathing. He tapped the under curve of her right buttock and then cupped the fleshy mound in his calloused palm to squeeze the tormented flesh.
“Nice ass,” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath drawing goosebumps along her arms. “Reach above you, Leslie, and hold onto the head rail. Do not let go. Understood?”
“Yes,” she whispered with a delicate shiver as she groped above her for a handhold. Wrapping her hands around the metal bar, she tightened her grip, recalling the oddness of voluntary bondage she’d experienced earlier on the couch. She was used to physical restraints ensuring her compliance, making it easy for her to cede to the wishes of whichever Master she was submitting to. She liked tugging against the bondage, got off on knowing she had no choice but to obey or end the scene with one word. This nonrestrictive bondage brought about a whole new wave of self-awareness that gave her something else to think about except the risk of inviting a stranger into her home, and her bed.
“Good girl. You’re not new to spanking, are you?”
Kurt punctuated his inquiry with a harder swat that drew a gasp from Leslie and prompted her into lifting for another. His low chuckle reverberated down her spine as he caressed her butt. “That’s a good enough answer.” He nipped the tender spot between her neck and shoulder, the prick of pain and his next command curling her toes. “Spread your legs. Wider,” he growled when she didn’t go far enough.
Cool air brushed over the delicate flesh of her bare labia as she spread her legs the width of the double bed. Keeping up with stretches and a few dance moves from her years of ballet lessons had kept her flexible, which had come in handy when she’d started exploring the BDSM lifestyle as a means of escape from the upheaval of her entire life.
“I like the way you obey without question.” He stroked one hand down the inside of her thigh, the scrape of his rough callouses along her soft skin eliciting another groan and twitch of her buttocks.
“I like the way you touch me,” she returned in a low voice, the darkness lending her courage to speak her mind, something she’d never done at the club. When there, she preferred remaining a willing but unassuming player so as not to call attention to herself or unintentionally invite an expansion on a Dom/sub relationship or any of her friendships. What would be the point of bonding with others when she knew getting close to her could turn toxic without warning? After the police had deflected two attempts on her life before stripping her of her real identity and everything else she’d ever known, she didn’t doubt Edwin Glascott’s threat against her, or the risk to others after her dear neighbor was injured when visiting her.
“It appears we’re a good match then.” She stiffened and he rolled on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with over six feet of rippling muscles, his heavy erection coming to rest between her buttocks as his large sac bounced against her pussy. “Don’t worry. I’m well aware this is an irresponsible, one-time fuck. And when I say irresponsible, I’m talking about both of us. Remember, don’t let go, say red if you want to end this.”
Leslie didn’t reply, couldn’t answer as he kissed, licked and nipped his way down her back until he reached her butt. Once there, he snagged her breath as he cupped her cheeks, holding them propped up for his devious mouth. The brush of soft lips drew more goosebumps; slow, wet tongue strokes produced heat and dampness inside her quivering pussy; pin-pricking bites of discomfort sent a rush of hot pleasure spiraling through her veins. The chill from losing her cover warmed and her tense muscles grew lax. The attention to her backside was new and exciting, transporting her to an altogether new plane where nothing existed, nothing mattered but the slow-building euphoria spreading outward from her buttocks.
A cry spilled from her throat as Kurt released one cheek, cupped that hand between her legs and pressed hard. “You’re so fucking responsive. I like that, too. Wet and soft. What more could I ask for or need?”
“I need more,” Leslie rushed to say.
“Mmm, not yet. I’m not done playing.” He inched a broad thumb between her cheeks and pressed against the puckered rim of her anus.
She squirmed against the pressure against both areas, and the harder he pressed the more she shifted under him. As she started to close the gap in her legs to aid in holding him there, a stab of vicious pain from a tight pinch lanced one tender fold. “Crap!” She tried to spring up, to get away from the throbbing ache, but he gripped her thigh with a dark warning.
“Give me your safeword or be still. If you release your hands, I’ll walk out now.”
She shook, inhaled and slowly repositioned her legs outward. “No, I don’t want to safeword out. Please. You just took me by surprise. No one’s ever…”
“Good. I like knowing I can give you a new experience.”