She fascinated him. Aroused him.
Hell, she amazed him.
He'd been almost certain that she was submissive by nature. Not because she was subservient in her professional life--on the contrary, he'd seen how much control and responsibility she shouldered in her job with Lyle--but because the burden of that responsibility made him believe she'd fall willingly and gracefully into a submissive role.
She was a woman who needed to let go and give herself over to pleasure in order to learn just how much power she truly had. Because God knew, she held absolute power over Riley. For that matter, he thought, she'd wielded that power for years without ever even knowing it.
So yes, under the right circumstances he could imagine her collared and leashed in a club. He'd imagined that very thing more times than he'd liked to count.
What he hadn't expected was for his theory about her deeper nature to be proven right so quickly and dramatically, and the trust that she had lain at his feet humbled and amazed him.
And speaking of surprise...
He groaned, his eyes rolling back as she shifted position, going from licking him like a lollipop to closing her entire mouth on his cock and taking him deep. With one hand, he reached up and pressed against the roof of the car for leverage. With the other, he fisted her hair, stealing some of the control back as she worked his cock, taking him closer and closer to the edge.
"Touch yourself," he groaned. "Come on, baby. Slide your fingers between your legs and play with that sweet pussy. I'm so damn close, and I want you to come with me."
She made a raw, feral sound, then moved the hand that had been on the seat to give her leverage. He couldn't see that low, but as her other hand tightened at the base of his shaft, he was certain that she'd obeyed. Her sucking became wilder, filled now with the dual need of giving and taking pleasure. And the wild, animal noises she was making had the effect of pushing him right to the edge.
He held on, trying to hold back. Wanting her to come with him, but also wanting to hover at the edge for as long as possible. But soon he had no choice, and he let himself go, keeping his eyes open as he shattered, emptying himself in her sweet, sweet mouth. Watching as she took it all, her eyes opening as he finished to reveal a wild heat and something that looked like pride.
God, he loved her. More than that, he realized, he'd always loved her.
And now, as she teetered on that precipice, too, he bent forward and unzipped her bustier, then pulled hard on the middle of the chain, tugging both clamps off her nipples.
She cried out, a throaty moan made up of pleasure and pain as the blood rushed back to her nipples even as her fingers on her clit pushed her that final distance over the edge.
Her eyes were on him, but he could tell that it wasn't him she was seeing--it was light, stars, the expanse of the universe. And when he pulled her back up on to the seat beside him, she curled against him, and murmured only two words. "So good."
Content, he stroked her hair, letting her doze until they turned onto her street.
"We're here," he said softly, smiling as she blinked up at him.
"That wasn't fair, you know. I was supposed to be the one treating you."
"Not fair that we treated each other?"
"I think you destroyed me," she murmured. "In the best possible way, of course."
"You're welcome," he said, making her grin.
The car pulled into the driveway and the driver killed the engine. She slid down again, her head in his lap. "Can't we just stay here? Like maybe forever?"
He was tempted. That was damn sure. "Warm bed, baby," he said. "And if you're a very good girl, I'll make you a cup of cocoa before we go to sleep."
She tilted her head, her lips quirking as her brow lifted in mock incredulity. "Are you saying I wasn't already a good girl?"
He laughed--oh, yeah. He absolutely adored her.
As they waited for the driver to come around, Riley looked out the window, then frowned. "Nat," he said, his eyes on the big blob of orange fur sitting on the front porch. "I thought your cat stayed indoors."
"What?" She sprang up, all signs of exhaustion fading. "Pumpkin!"
She practically leapt over him and had the door open even before the driver reached it. He saw her zip up her bustier and her pants as she ran, then snatch up the cat and hug it close.
Riley was only steps behind her, and when she moved onto the porch as if to push the cracked front door fully open, he called out sharply for her to wait.
Her eyes went wide as the implications of her cat being outside and the door being open finally broke through her concern for Pumpkin.
Riley's rental car was in the drive, and he hurried to it, then retrieved the small Ruger he'd borrowed from Hunter from the glove box. He knew he couldn't take it into the club, so he hadn't even tried. But he was damn well keeping the thing on his person from now on.
With the gun at the ready, he returned through the door, then peered inside the house through the crack. The interior mat had been shifted onto the threshold, ensuring that the door couldn't close properly. More important, a chalkboard topped the mat. A simple one like the kind found in craft stores.
One word was neatly printed on it in pink chalk: CHEATER
Chapter Eight
I sit on my couch, a soft blanket wrapped around me, both for warmth and to hide the leather bustier from the gaggle of cops who have descended on my house. Not that I begrudge them being there--I want them to do whatever they can to find the asshole who's toying with me.
Riley has taken charge, and even though this is my house and I'm more than capable of watching out for it and myself, I let him. The truth is, I'm exhausted and I'm scared. It was one thing getting creepy notes. It's something else altogether to have someone inside my house. Someone who may or may not have intentionally put my cat out. My sweet Pumpkin who never harmed anyone and is far too pampered a kitty now to survive on LA's dangerous busy streets.
Fuck with me, and it may take me a while to get my ire up.
Fuck with my cat, and you're dead meat from the get-go.
After what seems like forever, most of the cops are gone, and Riley comes to me, then pulls me to my feet. "Why don't you go wait for me in the bedroom? I think I saw Pumpkin run and hide in there, and she probably needs you."
"Maybe I need you," I say, then hate myself for sounding scared and needy.
Riley just kisses the corner of my mouth. "I'll be right here. But I want to finish up with Detective Garrison and check the work on the new locks. Stay if you want. I just thought you might like to get away from the insanity."
I nod. The truth is, he's right. "Thanks for taking care of this."
"I think we had this conversation earlier," he reminds me. "As long as you let me, I'll always take care of you. And frankly, I'll do it even if you protest."
The last part earns him a smile, even though we both know he's not joking. And I think it's that last little reminder of how much he cares that gives me the strength to leave him in charge of my domain and escape into the safety of my bedroom.
I'm not sure how long I'm in there, sitting on the edge of the bed petting Pumpkin before Riley comes back. All I do know is that when the door finally clicks open, the cat scrambles off my lap and races under the bed, only the orange tip of her tail showing.
"She going to be okay?"
Despite everything, I laugh. For over an hour, he's been overseeing the cops and the locksmith, doing everything in his power to make me feel safe and secure in my own house. Now, he's standing in the doorway wearing leather, his broad shoulders filling the frame, looking so damn tough he could be an action hero.
And what is he concerned about? The mental health and well-being of my cat.
"What?" he asks as my laughter ratchets up a notch.
"You," I say, smiling so wide it hurts. "Just...thank you."
He crosses to me, then sits on the bed and pulls me into his lap. "For what?"
I snuggle close, bot
h content and amazed at how right it feels to be in his arms. "For taking care of me. For watching out for me. For tonight."
"Tonight," he repeats.
I nod, then shift on his lap so that I'm straddling him. "Every single thing about tonight," I say huskily as his cock stiffens beneath me. "Except the part where we got off track."
"Off track," he says, and I hear a welcome note of humor in his voice. "That's one way of putting it." He traces a finger over my collarbone and then lower over the swell of my breast. "I seem to recall we had very specific plans for when we reached your house tonight."