Forbidden Fires (Bondage & Breakfast)
Author:Jodie Griffin

chapter Ten



A warm hand was making long, soothing sweeps against her back. The feeling was hypnotic, and she didn’t want to come out of the haze. Her muscles were soft, her limbs boneless and—

She blinked up at Colin, feeling like an owl. She was half-naked, curled up in his lap, pressed up against something unrelentingly hard.

His face was grim, his mouth a tight line, completely at odds with the gentleness of his touch. When he noticed her looking at him, his face eased into a sinful smile. “Hey, sexy thing. Welcome back.”

She felt herself flush, and she struggled to rise.

He wouldn’t let her, and instead tightened his hand around her hip, drawing her closer to that tempting hardness. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Embarrassment threatened to choke her. “To get my dress. Let me go.”

He locked his arm around her and the heat of his body made her core clench, in spite of her recent, unbelievable orgasm. “No, I don’t think so.”

She flushed hot all over at his thickly uttered words. “Colin—”

He slid his fingers into her hair and tightened them, using the leverage to tug her even closer for a mind-numbing, toe-tingling erotic kiss. His lips were warm and moist, his tongue velvet soft against hers. “We’re not done yet, wife.”

She started at the sound of the word wife. Her eyes peeled open, looking around for Gabe McConnell, but Colin shook his head and put his finger to her lips.

“We have unfinished business, you and I.” His voice dropped, and he drew his finger over her chin and down the column of her throat, stroking a rough fingertip across the notch in her collarbone, where her four leaf clover usually sat. “I need you, Dee.”

She bit her lip, but she needed him too. She’d been over him once, but whether it was the situation they were involved in or just the way they’d each grown over the past year, she was no longer able to deny that Colin alone made her burn. She leaned forward and kissed him, then slid off his lap onto the floor, kneeling in front of him. She laid her cheek against his groin, and he stroked her hair. If she could, she’d purr.

With trembling fingers, she unbuttoned his pants and drew the zipper down, leaning close to mouth him though his briefs. His body bucked and he tightened his fingers in her hair again.

“Enough,” he growled. He stood, shoved his pants and his boxer-briefs to his ankles, then sat again, this time on the very edge of the chair, his knees splayed wide.

God, she’d forgotten how beautiful Colin was, especially aroused, with his thick cock curled close to his body, his balls heavy and full. She acted on year-old instinct and inhaled his musky smell, bracing her hands on his thighs before dragging her tongue the length of him from balls to glistening tip.

“Fuck, that’s good.” He dropped his head back and let out a strangled moan as she enveloped him with her mouth. She sucked gently, drawing him deep.

When she looked at him though lowered lashes, he was focused on her mouth, his color high on his cheeks. It would be smarter for them both if she made him come this way, but she wanted him buried deep inside her body when he let go. It had been so long, and she wanted him so badly.

He made the decision for them, drawing her up from the floor, and urging her to straddle him. She did, and then as he started to lower her onto his cock, he hesitated. “Shit. No condom, but fuck, I need you.”

“Me too. It’s okay. I’m on the pill,” she said softly. She swallowed, baring another part of her heart to him. “And I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

The flame in his eyes ignited, and he lifted one of her hands and kissed her palm. “Neither have I.”

With those unexpected, shocking words, he eased her down onto his cock, one torturous inch at a time, controlling her descent with his hands on her hips. “Oh, Colin,” she breathed, panting with the unbelievable fullness of his penetration. Had he always been this long, this thick, this perfect? How could she have forgotten that?

“You feel so fucking good with nothing between us,” he muttered, holding her tightly against him, not letting her move. “What goddamn waste.”

And then she couldn’t think anymore as he started to move. God, it felt amazing, being bare against him, inside and out. She pushed off the floor with her feet, using his shoulders as leverage to meet him thrust for thrust. He leaned forward, putting his teeth against her shoulder, biting gently as his hand came up and cupped her breast, pinching one aroused, sensitive nipple.

Her body tightened around his, swelling as the head of his cock bumped against her G-spot in several long glides. She whimpered, dropping her head against his shoulder. “Please.” She wasn’t sure what she was asking for, only that she needed him to do something, and fast.

He wasn’t in any hurry, it seemed. She was sweating, pleading with him, and he was taking his damn time. He lifted her off his lap, and she cried out at the loss until she realized what he was up to. He stepped out of the clothes still around his ankles, turned her and bent her over the arm of the chair, her ass in the air.

He sucked in a deep breath. “Jesus, Delia, your ass is so pretty and rosy pink from my hand. Does it hurt? Can you still feel the sting?”

She swallowed hard and looked over her shoulder at him. “Mmm.”

He groaned, and she was stunned when he hit her bottom again, once on each cheek. “I asked you a question. Answer me the right way.”

Just hearing the words that made her submissive to him turned her on. Heat flooded her pussy, and her voice came out a husky gasp. “Yes, Sir.”

“That’s better.” He gripped her hips and surged inside, rubbing his hard body against her still-stinging cheeks. The abrasion of his hair-roughened groin against her sensitive flesh made her gasp out loud. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, Sir,” she panted, dropping her head against her crossed arms, unable to keep herself upright. “Feels so good. Want more. Please.”

He withdrew nearly all the way, then plunged back inside, several long strokes that had her breath catching in her chest as her tension wound tighter, spiraling into a tight ball of need. It had been so long since they’d been together, but she recognized the moment Colin reached his limit, felt him swell and harden, his thrusts losing their rhythm. He groaned and reached around to rub and tease her clit—oh, thank God. “Come with me now,” he ordered.

Her body obeyed him instantly, and she came with a long, keening cry, her muscles straining with the force of her orgasm.

He followed right after her, her name on his lips and his body pressed as close as humanly possible while he found his release inside her. He continued to stroke in and out, his body shuddering in the aftermath, drawing out her pleasure. He was heavy against her back, warm and solid and real.

And not really hers anymore. She had to remember that, remember not to lose herself in him again. She lifted her head. “I need to move. Please.”

“I know.” He placed a kiss between her shoulder blades, then nuzzled her hair.

He withdrew and she bit her lip with the feeling of loss that came from breaking that intimate connection. He helped her up then turned her to face him, a deadly serious look on his face. Her stomach dropped, and her spine stiffened. Whatever it was he was going to say, she didn’t want to hear it.

He cupped her cheek and ran a rough thumb over it. “That was fucking ama—”

It was hard, necessary, but she forced the words out past her burning throat, cutting him off before he could finish his words. “It was just sex, Colin. You got turned on from the lesson, so did I, so we took care of things.” His eyes narrowed, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “That’s all.”

“You don’t really believe that,” he said softly, tucking a curl of hair behind her ear. “I know you better than that.”

She jerked back from his touch and started to speak, but he stopped her with a growled retort that made her heart clench.

“Don’t bother. Since you’re determined to make this all about work, let’s get on with it.” He scooped up his clothes from the floor and drew on his briefs and pants, leaving his shirt untucked. “McConnell left a robe for you. I’ll get it. He’s waiting for us.”

* * *

Colin handed Delia the robe and pointedly ignored the hurt in her eyes. God, she could piss him off in ten seconds flat. He didn’t know what the hell it was they’d just shared, but it sure as shit hadn’t been just sex.

He handed her the robe and turned away, then fingered the panties he’d shoved in his pocket when he’d drawn them down the long, toned length of her legs. They were damp, and the brain flash he got remembering how they’d gotten that way made his dick stir, even after that unbelievable orgasm.

“Colin?” Her voice was thin, and when he turned back, her head was bowed.

“What?” It came out sharper than he’d intended, and he felt her flinch like a fist in the gut.

“I’m sor—”

He sliced a hand through the air. “Don’t finish that, and don’t even think about walking out the way you usually do when you get mad. You’ve got one thing right in all this. We do have a job to do, so unless you want out altogether, we’re going to finish it.”

Her head snapped up and he saw a flash of anger there. He didn’t know if was at him, at herself or at the situation they were in, but it was far better than apathy. Anger meant passion, and passion meant she was still invested in what they were doing.

He almost laughed at that. What the hell were they doing? Playing at being in love was both harder than he’d expected and easier than he’d thought. Christ, she could try a saint’s patience, and he was no saint. If he was, he wouldn’t be thinking what he was thinking right now, which was how soon he could get his hands back on her ass again.

Was this Dom/sub dynamic what had been missing from their relationship last year? He couldn’t blame himself for that, since he hadn’t known what she secretly desired. And he couldn’t blame her either, because her reasons for not telling him had been sound. So there was no one to rail at for the fact that their relationship hadn’t worked out. There was no question that dominating Delia roused something inside him, something primal, a spark he’d never really understood could be fanned into a bigger blaze. Oh, he knew kink existed and some people got off on it, but he’d never considered he might be one of those people.

If he’d known then what he knew now about Delia, would it have made a difference in how things turned out?

In the fifteen seconds it took him to think all of this, Dee pulled the robe around her like a suit of armor, and she was now covered from neck to toe. Her body was stiff and unyielding, but she still looked like a woman who’d just had the orgasm of her life. Her hair was mussed, her face was sweaty and her makeup had run.

Jesus, she was fucking beautiful.

And emotionally closed off, even more so than the day she’d walked out on him, saying they could never be happy together long-term.

“I’m ready,” she said, her voice full of frost. “Let’s go.”

And shit, that was his fault for not holding his tongue. “You’re going to have to tone that down,” he said quietly. “Be as mad as you want, but if we go in there with you snarling at me or giving me the cold shoulder, we’re going to set off all kinds of red flags for McConnell.” He half expected to see her fly off the handle, for her temper to spike, but instead she blinked a handful of times, rolled her shoulders and smiled.

It didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it should be enough to fool someone who didn’t know her well.

“Better?” she asked, her voice slightly less frosty, but not any less distant.

“Dee—”

“I can do my job, Colin. Can you do yours?”

He tamped down his instinctual need to snap back, and instead flipped into the role he was playing, the one that felt oddly right. Delia’s Dom. “You know I can. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

She was standing still but nearly stumbled. “What?”

“I believe I gave you an order. Turn around, put your hands behind your back. Simple.”

The frost in her eyes thawed minutely, and her jaw got that stubborn tilt he knew meant she was fired up. She opened her mouth to let out some smartass remark, but he silenced her the best way he knew how.

He kissed her.

It wasn’t an easy kiss in any way, more of a battle of wills and lips and tongues and teeth. Now that he knew her secret, he knew how to get around her barriers. He backed her up against the wall, pressing his body close against hers. She put her hands on his chest, but he grabbed them in one hand and pushed them over her head, flat against the wall.

She bucked against him. “No.”

He hesitated. He’d been raised to believe that no meant no, period, end of sentence. But in this D/s world, no often meant more. He pulled back, looked at her face. Her eyes were wild and filled with the exact opposite of ice. Fire, blazing hot, almost desperate. And her body was trying to get closer to his, not pushing away from it.

Still, his own personal code of honor demanded he make sure they were speaking the same language. He leaned in, nuzzling her ear, taking comfort in the fact that she shivered in that full-body way that meant arousal, not revulsion. Even so, he needed the words. “Make it clear for me. Do you want me to stop? Do you want to use your safe word?”

“N-no, Sir.” She let out a small half-sob, dropped her eyes from his.

His heart twisted at the conflict she was radiating. There was a lot going on here between the case and the personal, and he guessed she felt as confused as he did about what was real and what was pretend. He couldn’t take the time to explore it, though. Not here, not right now, without fucking everything up. He could, however, give her one small reprieve.

He ran his knuckles across her lower cheek, then cupped her chin and kissed her sweetly this time. “Let go,” he murmured. “I’ve got your back. Be Delia Reardon, and let yourself go.” It took a good thirty seconds of locked eyes before she nodded, and when she did, he spoke again, his voice deeper. “Turn around.”

He spun her so her cheek rested against the wall, then drew her hands behind her back. He’d restrained people before in the line of duty, but it had never given him a hard-on like this did. The robe slipped off her shoulder, and he bent his head and nipped it. He’d planned on using his tie to restrain her hands, but instead he decided to tangle the robe’s belt around them. Win-win. She’d be bound, and she wouldn’t be able to cover her half-naked body.

He slipped the belt from around her waist and felt her start, but he laid his palm across her back, lightly holding her in place. He wrapped her wrists together with the belt and tied the ends in a large white bow.

Without shoes, her head came to his shoulder, and she looked petite, almost delicate. But he’d seen her take down a guy who had a hundred pounds on her, so her smaller build was deceptive. There was strength in those muscles, strength to match that of her will and her intelligence.

And her submission.

He curled his fingers around her bow-tied hands and tugged her backward until she was no longer leaning against the wall, until she was instead leaning back against his body. He slid his other hand around her waist, his palm splayed possessively across her lower stomach, his fingers resting on the bare expanse of her mound.

One thought kept bouncing through his head, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from uttering it out loud.

Mine.





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