Hook, Line and Sinker

Liberty Springs, Wyoming 2

Hook, Line and Sinker Jory Raines is a legend within the D/s club scene. His voice alone can do more for a sub than two lesser men and a chest full of toys. When Bailey Verne breezes back into his life, scarred from her efforts to embrace the submission he likes in a woman, his vaunted self-control is shot to hell. With her gilded curls and siren's body, Bailey tempts him more sorely than any other woman ever has. Her sassy mouth and blatant sexuality may threaten his sanity, but her bravery and resilience captivate him as she openly embraces the parts of him kept ruthlessly restrained. From Denver’s underground club scene to Jory’s own dungeon of depraved pleasures, just who is leading who down the devil’s path is in serious question. Bailey embarks on a fishing trip to land the catch of her life, and take Jory Raines off the market for good. Genre: Contemporary Length: 59,410 words

HOOK, LINE AND SINKER Liberty Springs, Wyoming 2

Kaliana Cole

EROTIC ROMANCE

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

HOOK, LINE AND SINKER Copyright © 2011 by Kaliana Cole E-book ISBN: 1-61034-910-5 First E-book Publication: October 2011 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers Dear Readers, If you have purchased this copy of Hook, Line and Sinker by Kaliana Cole from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book. The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment. This is Kaliana Cole’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Cole’s right to earn a living from her work. Amanda Hilton, Publisher www.SirenPublishing.com www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION A lot of us go through that itinerant lounge/sofa/couch-dweller stage. I know I did. It wasn’t a case of being homeless. It was a need for more freedom than home afforded at the time. There were a few people I could depend on to put me up for the night… or week… or month… This one’s for them, and anyone else who has been a loungedweller or a generous lounge owner. K.J., I appreciate you buying that spare bed. It’s a definite step up from the lounge. (If only you had a Jory hiding in your closet!) As usual, this one’s for you. And B., you’re still my everything…

HOOK, LINE AND SINKER Liberty Springs, Wyoming 2 KALIANA COLE Copyright © 2011

Chapter 1 Jory Raines checked his rearview mirror once more. The headlights were still following obediently. Missy, the driver of the vehicle, promised to do everything obediently. She was the best the Kat had had to offer tonight, but Jory was thankful she had her own car. Conversation wasn’t high on her skill set, and the idea of facing her tomorrow across the breakfast table was downright cringeworthy. No, he’d find out just how far her supposed obedience stretched and then send her on her not-so-bright way. He pulled up outside the overgrown log-and-stone cabin he called home and stepped out of the four-by-four. He could have sworn he’d left the garage door open this morning. It wouldn’t hurt the Jeep to spend one night outside, and it was a certainty that if he stepped out of sight for one minute Missy would get lost, so he left the vehicle where it was. Jory handed her from the impractical little sports car and led her up onto the porch. He shushed her attempts at conversation sharply. “Enough, you will speak only when spoken to.” “Yes, master.” Her cotton-candy voice was suitably subservient and slightly breathy. Experienced subs like her got off on even

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hearing the word “master.” It just failed to have the usual effect on him. Jory took a deep breath. He must be getting jaded, not to mention forgetful. He slid his key in the lock, but it was already open. What age did Alzheimer’s set in? Not forty-five, surely. He took Missy’s coat as they entered the great room. Jory’s nostrils flared as a tantalizing fragrance tugged at his mind, searching for recognition, a memory to cling to. He brought her coat to his nose, but it wasn’t coming from there. He looked around the great room. Everything was in place except for the patchwork quilt that belonged on the back of the saddle leather couch. “Stay right where you are, don’t move,” he ordered the darkhaired woman, knowing he could walk away for hours and she would still be where he left her. Her blind obedience made his cock stir lazily with anticipation. This one might go a long way before she broke. He stalked obliquely toward the sofa, eyes focused on the rumple of earthen-tone quilt that was hanging over one end. On silent feet he circled to look along the old sofa. Light from the kitchen cast a shadow over the figure beneath the cover. A mass of variegated blonde curls spilled from beneath the other end. Jory took a deep breath, unable to contain the smile that lifted his lips. Goldilocks herself had taken up residence on his lounge. He should have known. No one but Bailey Verne would be game enough to break into his house and stay there for him to find. Women either feared him or were in awe of him. Men knew better than to fuck with him. Only one person had ever had the audacity to mosey in and out of his life as if she owned it. Apparently his warning of three years ago hadn’t stuck. She was a married woman now, and a mother. Even if she had seen him as an older brother, it wasn’t appropriate for her to bunk down on his lounge whenever she felt like it. He knew he should wake her and get

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her to haul her ass back to her useless husband, but Jory had to be honest with himself—he wouldn’t kick Bailey out if his life depended on it. A faint shiver traveled her covered form, and he went to turn up the heat. Missy entered his field of vision, still standing where he had left her. “Oh. Missy. Sorry, but tonight won’t be happening. Here, ring Callum. He’s your fail-safe tonight.” He waited while she spoke to her minder for the night. He took the phone back off her the moment she finished. “If you hurry back to the Kat you might find someone else to play with.” A wicked streak of inspiration struck. “I’ll tell you what. You drive yourself straight down to the police station and tell the man behind the desk you want to be locked up. Andy Calhoun is right up your alley. He hasn’t had anyone to play with for a long time.” “Andy Calhoun? I’ve heard of him.” He could see calculated interest in her dark flashing eyes. “The police station,” Jory confirmed, settling her coat around her shoulders and pointing her in the direction of her car. He breathed a sigh of relief as she turned and headed back down his drive, but his dick complained. It, too, had known that Missy might have gone far enough to scratch the itch. She might just be enough to stir Andy from the funk he was in, anyway. The man would only be sitting behind that desk dealing with the red tape Emma soonto-be-Whelan Duncan had laid on his doorstep. Jory turned the lights down low and sat in the big armchair that matched the lounge. The riot of curls shone as if gilded where they hung over the arm. Bailey must have given up on taming them. The last time he had seen her, the blonde mess had been sleek and smooth. A stylish cap that had molded her skull, artfully streaked with myriad shades. A sophisticated facade that had almost masked the rougharound-the-edges hoyden beneath. That lame-ass she married had never seen Bailey for the gem she was. Sure, she was decidedly rough-cut and streaked with minor

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flaws, but she was a priceless treasure. One he had spent more than half his life protecting, both from herself and the big bad world. And for the last decade or so, him. He stood and looked down at her shrouded form for a long moment before heading upstairs to bed. She was buried down so far he couldn’t even kiss her temple. He settled for smoothing her hair back, letting the silken strands caress his hand before he turned away. The feel of that chaste touch clung to his hand like molasses as he stripped off and slid into bed. He closed his eyes, knowing he would wake if Bailey so much as stirred. Haunting dreams of gilded curls and breathy little voices crooning “yes, master” plagued his sleep. Dawn threatened the eastern sky before he was able to slumber peacefully. **** Bailey awoke slowly, before freezing until she realized where she was. Certain she was in the one place of refuge she could depend upon, she experimentally moved. A deep soreness rode her entire being and pain lanced deep in her body, but it was better than yesterday. She lifted a hand to her face. Her cheekbones were tender and puffy and the skin felt delicate, as if stretched too thin. Her lip was swollen and split anew when she opened her mouth. The trickle of blood was warm as it ran down the side of her chin. Struggling upright, she blotted the blood with the long sleeve of the shirt she had borrowed. She would hate to stain Jory’s quilt. She perched painfully on one hip as her feet found the polished heartwood floor. Getting to the bathroom was going to be a nightmare. Shuffling along like an arthritic octogenarian, she made it to the slate-tiled bath beneath the stairs. The mirror was studiously avoided as she washed. She needed a bath. A shower would even help, but the cuts and abrasions on her neck and wrists would sting beneath the water’s touch and only

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increase her pain. Not to mention the pain flinching would inflict upon the deep tissue damage. Bailey heard floorboards creaking and running water overhead. Jory would be down soon and it would be time to face the music. She made her slow way to the kitchen. Everything was better with coffee. Two steaming mugs sat safely on coasters on the lacquered slab bench when she heard Jory come down the stairs. Making them with her bandaged hands had been a challenge to say the least. She faced the window and flicked her hair forward to screen her face a little. It was delaying the inevitable, but she would love to hear Jory’s exasperated voice just once before he saw her. It never failed to warm her from the inside out. Mellow and smooth, his voice was normally a touch reserved, almost menacing, except when he spoke to her. Then it swung between exasperation and loving warmth, with a whole lot of resignation thrown in, but he was never patronizing. “Hey, brat. How was the couch?” Jory reached over and picked up the black coffee, dropping a kiss on top of her head. His clean, spicy scent enveloped Bailey as she closed her eyes to hold back the hot, bloated tears that welled at the warmth in his voice. He took a seat on the other side of the timber bar. “Nice timing, by the way. I had a likely prospect all panting for my old ass, and Goldilocks had taken up residence on my lounge. “Bailey?” He reached across the bench and used one long finger to push her hair back. “Oh, baby, what the hell happened to you?” Tears spilled at the raw compassion in his amazing voice. He came around the bench and enveloped her in his warmth, his hold gentle, tender. “Tell me Mark did this and he is dead.” There was cold fury in it now. Bailey nearly laughed at the thought of Mark lifting a hand to her. The bastard wouldn’t have had the energy. “Wasn’t Mark.” Her throat was scratchy between sobs.

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“Who’s done this to you, baby?” Jory held her head back from his chest, icy blue eyes searching her battered face for answers. “Who is responsible for this?” His finger traced over the purple lump that was once her cheekbone. “It’s my fault,” Bailey admitted, closing her eyes when she was unable to watch the empathic pain in his. “It is not your fault, Bailey. You didn’t ask for this.” “But I did, Jory. I was fucking stupid, and I paid the price.” Selfloathing colored her words. “I think we need to start at the beginning, babe. Come over here and sit on the lounge with me.” Bailey shuffled at his side, too blatantly in pain for Jory not to notice. “Christ, Bailey. What else happened to you?” He went to lift her, but Bailey’s cry of pain stopped him. “Fucking hell. You’re tearing my heart out. Show me what’s wrong with you.” Bailey shook her head, but Jory was having none of it. “It’s me or the hospital, Bailey. You make your mind up.” His glacial eyes were furiously adamant. She lowered the hand that kept the top button of her shirt from his fingers. Long fingers flew down the row of buttons, his face reassuring, settling her with the gentle touch of his eyes. She held her breath when he pushed the shirt back off her shoulders, unable to resist watching him. His blacker-than-black hair and the cut of his high cheekbones spoke of a Native American ancestry that his icy Nordic eyes did not match. He was stunningly handsome, but, right then, all she could see in his gaze was pain. For all the countless fantasies and dreams of Jory undressing her she had ever had, this look on his face had never featured. Tears actually welled in his eyes when he looked at what he had unveiled. His face showed sheer, unbridled anguish. She closed her eyes, unable to watch. ****

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Rage swelled in Jory’s chest. A red haze tinted his vision as he looked at Bailey clad only in white cotton panties. Her hands and wrists were bandaged. The discoloration around the bottom of the crepe attested to the severity of the damage. She was bruised and battered, but there were particular injuries that had his heart pounding in alarm. Her neck was abraded and heavily bruised, just as he suspected her wrists were, and her nipples bore signs of trauma. He knew all the marks. “Stocks or the cross?” “Stocks.” The humiliation in her voice warred with the pain, both physical and mental. The apparatus used to restrain her gave him other concerns. He walked around her, knowing any movement would cause her more hurt. Her back was a mess, but it was not the type of damage he had feared seeing. Small cuts and abrasions covered it. Bright patches of reddened flesh, tinged with orange salve, told the story of intense heat, but no telltale welts or stripes crossed it. He was confused. His hands rested at her sides, on the only unmarked skin he could find. “There’s more, isn’t there?” His heart broke for her over what he knew he was going to find beneath the white cotton. She went to nod and then caught herself. Those abrasions would be pulling at her neck. “Yes.” She sounded ashamed. He blew out his breath, struggling to handle his rage. “Can I see, baby? The rest is bad, but it doesn’t need a doctor. I need to know if I have to call the doctor out.” “Okay.” She sounded like a scared little girl as she reached for her panties. “It’s okay, Bailey. I got it.” He kneeled and slid the cotton down her legs. The stains on the liner warned him what to expect, but as he lifted one of her feet and placed it on his leg, he fought back tears. Her buttocks were worse than her back, bleeding in places where the cotton had stuck to the wounds. But the more intimate damage was worse. Clamp marks covered every inch of her naked folds inside and

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out. It was a small measure of relief to see that she hadn’t been brutalized on top of the other damage. He fought the need to pull her to him and absorb her pain, knowing it would only hurt her more. He rose, pulling her panties up and slipping the shirt back on her, trying to find words to say. In the end he said nothing, just guided her to the lounge. He picked up the phone and called Aaron Kinsley’s home number. He was able to catch Liberty Springs’ GP before he left for his Sunday morning round of golf. He briefed Doc on Bailey’s injuries and asked him to come and check her out. Jory wouldn’t be satisfied until he got a professional opinion. The doctor promised to be there within fifteen minutes. He walked back to the lounge where Bailey was trying to get comfortable. He wanted to hold her so badly, his chest physically ached with the need to feel her head against it, but they needed to talk. “What happened with Mark?” “The divorce came through six months ago.” “And Nathan?” “Mark got full custody. The bastard set me up and had me declared an unfit mother.” He could hear the bitterness behind that, and his heart went out to her, but now wasn’t the time to chase it. “How did this happen? They shouldn’t have let you out of that hospital. Do the police know where you are?” He saw the question on her face. “There is no way you could have reached to put cream on your back, baby. Someone else put it there.” “The police have a description of him, but they didn’t seem to be taking it seriously. I’ve been going to this club, trying to find the real me. I thought I could find a Dom to help me find that.” “This isn’t the work of a Dom, Bailey. This man was a sadist, pure and simple. You should have called me. I could have recommended a safe club if you wanted to explore some possibilities.” He shook his head.

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“Jory! No one did this to me specifically. Have you heard about the attacks on the clubs in Denver?” “Oh, Christ! The ram-raider? You were there, baby?” His hand stroked over her temple, wishing he could take all her pain away. “What happened?” “I was in the stocks. We’d just started a scene, and there was a big explosion. Some madman drove his truck right through the warehouse wall, knocking out the mezzanine level supports and driving away. I was stuck in the stocks beneath a pile of rubble for seven hours.” “With clamps and a ball gag on?” Bailey nodded, the look in her indigo eyes haunted. “And a plug. It didn’t do any damage, but I felt embarrassed. Fuck, Jory. I felt so humiliated when that rescue squad pulled me out. I’d torn my nails out trying to escape, but all I was worried about was the plug.” Jory stroked her hair, the only part of her he could touch and know he wasn’t hurting her. Leaving clamps on for an extended period of time could be irreversibly damaging. Tissue necrosis was a very real possibility. He couldn’t imagine her shame of being found with a plug in her ass. It was trivial in the grand scope of what had happened, but it had scarred her deeply. “Oh, baby. I wish I could take it all away for you.” “I did it for you.” He nearly missed the soft admission. He was certain his ears were playing tricks on him. “How was this for me?” Bailey’s mind had always been quirky, but this promised to be more convoluted than usual. “You told me that I should find someone my own age, someone who could cater to my vanilla needs, that you were too old and too dark for me. “I did that, Jory, but it wasn’t me. I always wanted you, but I knew I couldn’t come back until I knew I could take what you like to dish out. I just got a little more than I bargained for going to the clubs in search of that.”

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Jory was speechless. He remembered that conversation as if it had been yesterday instead of ten years ago. He had thought Bailey was drunk. She had propositioned him and sworn her undying love. He had done the most difficult thing of his life and turned her sweet ass down. Told her he liked women, not little girls playing dress-up. She may have been twenty, but she’d still had a rose-tinted view of the world. He’d told her bluntly that what he wanted she wasn’t capable of giving and sent her on her way, tears and all. Apparently, she hadn’t been as intoxicated as he’d hoped. He heard the doctor’s car approaching. “This conversation is only postponed, Bailey. Don’t think it’s over.” He rose and went to let Doc in. Aaron Kinsley was fast and efficient. Jory could see the anger pinching his round face as he came back to the kitchen where he had retreated to give Bailey some privacy. The coffee tasted bitter against his tongue. “Bailey is in the shower. I’ve given her some pretty strong painkillers, and she will probably go straight to sleep afterwards. I don’t know how she is walking, Jory. Let alone how she drove seven hours to get here from Denver. She is lucky. Two people were killed in the same attack. The man responsible for that needs to be stuck in front of a firing squad and put down like the deranged animal he is. I’d volunteer to pull the trigger.” Aaron put his hand out for the coffee Jory poured. “Physically, she will heal within a week or two. The human body is remarkably resilient, but psychologically she should be a mess. She is too calm at the moment. I don’t know if it has actually hit home or not. I know you’ve always been her guardian angel, but it is going to be a long, tough haul this time.” “Tell me what has got to be done and I’ll do it.” That was the simple truth. The pile of creams and pills was staggering.

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“This one’s for the burns. That one is for the abrasions, and the other is a topical painkiller and antibiotic for the more intimate damage. She can’t apply them herself because of the state of her hands. She has ripped two nails clean out of the bed and nearly skinned her wrists trying to escape.” He picked up a notepad and began scrawling. “She should be in hospital, but Bailey hasn’t become any less stubborn since she was a kid. She said she’s not moving from here.” “It’s a good thing I’ve got plenty of holidays owing.” Jory’s calm voice did not betray the roiling anger he felt. That someone could mount an assault on innocent people, not caring of the consequence, was beyond him. That Bailey had gotten caught up in it brought an icy rage like none he’d ever felt. “I’m going to call Andy and get him to follow up on the preliminary investigation. We have some contacts the city police wouldn’t have.” “She said she saw him, Jory. Saw him clearly. She doesn’t think the police believe her.” Jory nodded. If Bailey said she saw the man, he believed her. He would do everything he could to convince the authorities for her. “Thank you, Aaron.” “You’re welcome. Make sure you ring me if there are any problems. I want to see Bailey in ten days, anyway. Look after her, Jory.” Doc Kinsley drained his cup and left. Jory went to the downstairs bath, cracking the door far enough to talk to Bailey. “Where is your stuff? I’ll get it for you.” “My car is in the garage. I’ve only got two bags.” He retrieved the bags from the battered old Mustang. The rough pink paint job looked exactly like what it was, applied with a twodollar can. Powder blue showed through underneath. He still remembered when Bailey had painted the damn thing. She’d been seventeen and hormonal to the point of psychotic. Someone had told

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her it was about time she started acting like a girl instead of driving like a hoodlum, so she’d painted the old thing pink and said “There, it don’t get any girlier than that.” He wanted to have that Bailey back. At the moment she was traumatized and injured, but she was a fighter. It wouldn’t take her too long to bounce back. He just hoped to hell he could deal with her when she did. He had turned her away once, but she was no longer a green girl building glass castles in the sky. All her illusions had been stripped away, and Jory had to face facts. He loved Bailey Verne with his whole heart. She’d stolen it when she’d been a pigtailed little hoyden, and if she put in a bid for his body now, he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to tell her no. He just hoped they could both survive the consequences.

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Chapter 2 “Last time, baby girl.” Jory entered the bathroom when he heard her rise from the bath. “I’m not a baby, Jory.” “I know, Bailey. Believe me, I know. It just makes doing this a hell of a lot easier if I think of you that way.” For ten days he had treated her wounds and changed dressings. Had handed her pills and stood over her until the stubborn wretch swallowed them. The first week hadn’t been too hard. She had been so damn broken in body and spirit his deep empathy had cancelled out all other thoughts. Her body had healed, only pink marks remained from the worst injuries, and her left nipple was the solitary area that was still sore to touch. Her nails were beginning to regrow, and fresh pink skin covered her wrists beneath the bandages. The stiffness had worked from her body, aided by anti-inflammatories and antibiotics, as well as the occasional sleeping tablet. Today the doctor would hopefully say that her healing hands did not require bandaging anymore. Bailey’s spirit had returned with a vengeance. She was teasing him mercilessly every chance she got, and for the last three days, applying the antibiotic cream had given her ample fodder. Jory wished her hands were up to accomplishing the task herself, but until the bandages were allowed off, it was a task he had to endure. “Hands on the sink. Eyes shut. Foot on the stool. You know the drill.” Jory squeezed the cream onto his gloved hand. He tried not to pay her any attention as she gripped the hand basin and leaned forward, presenting her nicely plump ass with an unnecessary wiggle. Her legs were certainly spread wider than they

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needed to be, and those eyes weren’t shut either. Even her thick, ebony lashes were not enough to hide the sliver of indigo peeking out beneath. He knew damn well she watched him in the mirror. If he hadn’t seen that ass colored black, blue, and red, he would have put a few handprints of his own on it by now. Bailey Verne wasn’t happy unless she was tugging the lion’s tail. He was businesslike as he applied the cream. The coldness had made her squirm, but she held still. He couldn’t resist running his hand over the plump curve as he turned to get the other cream. He ignored the small smile that curved her full lips. The little monster knew he was digging deep. “That’s the last time, brat. The Doc should give you the all clear today. There is not much wrong with you if you can wiggle your ass like that. Turn around and let me put this cream on.” Jory shook his head as she complied. It was warm and steamy in the bathroom where she had just gotten out of a hot shower, and her nipples were puckered like it was forty below. He gave her a stern look, but all Bailey did was smile and shrug, making those hardpointed breasts bob distractingly. “Not much wrong with those either.” He dabbed the cream on the engorged nipple, noticing the damage had all but healed. He stuck a nursing pad over it, the cotton square sticking to the cream. “Put a bra on before you poke somebody’s eye out, Bailey. You’ll have to dig some of your clothes out today. We have to go to town, and my shirts aren’t exactly appropriate.” Since she had gotten here, she had worn nothing but his long shirts and a pair of panties. Even when she had ventured out onto the deck she hadn’t dressed. Not that it mattered. The cabin was pretty isolated and backed on to forestry. The deck sat over the river, and he could fish straight from the porch. The local wildlife would have had a good look at her bare legs, but that was all. “Anything else?” Her eyebrows rose knowingly.

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He didn’t even know how long he had been standing there gawking. He turned on his heel, hoping she would put his color down to the heat. “Get some clothes on, wench.” He didn’t imagine the chuckle that followed him. **** “Are you sure we need all these groceries?” Jory loaded them into the back of the Jeep. “We do. Your cooking is edible, Jory, but that is all it has to recommend it. You’ve got that big flash kitchen, and I doubt you have ever cooked anything in that oven.” Bailey deliberately picked up a bag and put it in the Jeep when he frowned to warn her off. “The doc said I’m fine, and that scowl doesn’t scare me” “It should.” Bailey only laughed and chucked him under the chin. He heard a chuckle from across the car park and saw Brody Marshall loading his own bags with a grin from ear to ear as he watched the drama playing out. There went Jory’s reputation up in flames. Andy pulled up next to him in the cruiser. “Jory, Bailey.” He nodded. “I’ve been trying to track you down. You are looking much better, Bailey.” He had gone to see them both the first day after Jory’s call. “There have been no further developments in your case officially, but the Keenans have tracked down a lead through the club network. They think it was a guy they have been refusing membership for some time.” “He did this because he wasn’t allowed in a fucking club?” “I’m sorry, Bailey. If it was up to me, I would be hunting him down like a dog. I’m doing everything I can without stepping on toes.” Jory stepped up and put an arm around Bailey. She was getting riled, and Andy wasn’t a fair target. “We understand. Just let us know

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if you get anything else. I’m giving Bailey your personal number before I go back to work next week, just in case she has any hassles.” “That’s fine. But speaking of hassles, I’ve ended up with a shadow by the name of Missy. The same one the Marshalls cut loose last month. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” “No, the name doesn’t ring a bell.” Jory knew his face was a picture of innocence. “You could always sic Marley on her.” Bailey laughed. “Don’t tell me she is still panting over you. I thought she would have outgrown schoolgirl crushes by now.” Bailey had gone through school with Marley. “I thought you would have, too.” Andy winked and got back in the squad car. “Ouch!” Jory grinned. “Marley is a bit of a sore spot these days for Andy.” “You don’t say.” Bailey looked a bit shocked at Andy’s taunt. He had always looked on indulgently as she had tried to win Jory over. Jory knew Andy enjoyed watching him squirm. They all had their weak spots, and Marley Richards was Andy’s. His was leaning against him like she meant to melt into his body. He realized his thumb was playing along her ribcage where he still held her. He coughed and dropped his hand, but her grin nearly matched the idiot Marshall who was taking his sweet time loading his bags. Word was going to be all over town in a matter of minutes. The rumors of his unattached status’s demise would be flying thick and fast. He tried to gather a remnant of self-respect by holding her door and giving plenty of weight to his stony gaze, trying to intimidate her into obeying. Bailey did get in the car, but sticking her pink little tongue out at him definitely ruined the desired effect. Brody was all but rolling around on the ground in delighted mirth.

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Jory got in the car before anyone else turned up to watch his downfall. **** Bailey’s hands moved with practiced speed, chopping, dicing, and slicing. Jory thieved a slice of bell pepper from the board and munched while he watched. “That’s a lot of trouble to go to when I can buy spaghetti sauce in a jar.” “You will taste the difference, I guarantee it.” Bailey held in a smile. He had been watching her like he expected her to chop off one of her fingers any moment. She kept waiting for him to offer her a plastic knife just to be on the safe side. His concern was sweet but stifling. He had always looked out for her, but not to this ridiculous extent. “What’s the green stuff?” “Fresh basil and oregano. You should have these growing in a pot on the deck.” She laughed when Jory sniffed them suspiciously. “Smells like pizza.” He was looking at the herbs as if they might poison him. “Mine come in a shaker bottle.” “Dried doesn’t have the same flavor.” She assured him. “If you want to be useful, start tearing the leaves off and put them on the board.” She went rummaging through the numerous cupboards of the large kitchen. “What are you looking for?” “A heavy saucepan.” He came around the bench into the kitchen proper, towering over her as he reached up and retrieved a pot from the ladder rack suspended from the high ceiling. “I didn’t even see those.” She wiped a finger over it, checking for dust. There wasn’t a trace. “When did your cleaner come through?” No one except Andy had come to the cabin in the time she had been there. “The other morning while we were gone.” He retreated to the safety of the other side of the bench and started attacking the herbs.

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“I don’t know why you get somebody in. Everything is always in its place with you.” His very tidiness made a woman want to muss him up. Well it made Bailey, anyway. She just couldn’t see the side of him that made other women fear him and scurry to do his bidding. “Everything except you,” he muttered. Bailey chose to ignore him. “I don’t dust, and I don’t do bathrooms. That is all Rhonda does when she comes out. That and polishes the floors. When I tried that I had polish from one end of the room to the other in great big blobs. She asked me not to do that anymore.” “You’re very domestic.” Bailey was quite surprised. Most men she had come across were useless in the cleaning department. Some could cook a lot better than Jory, but she had never known one to keep his home as spotless. “I’ve lived by myself for over twenty-five years, Bailey. I was bound to learn a thing or two.” “If you’d learned how to cook properly, you wouldn’t be so damn skinny.” She couldn’t resist goading him a little. He wasn’t skinny at all. He had one of those big, raw-boned frames—tall, lean, and hungry-looking. “Bet I could count your ribs.” “Nice try, brat, but the shirt is staying where it is.” Bailey refrained from stomping her foot as she sautéed the onions and crushed garlic in olive oil. She’d been trying to get his shirt off all week, but Jory didn’t do casual nudity, or even lay around shirtless watching TV. He locked the bathroom door, too. Did that speak of paranoia, or did he really know her well enough to suspect she might walk in on him? The lack of sleepwear on the washing line told her he did go naked at night. “It’s not fair. You have seen absolutely all of me, and you won’t even take your shirt off around me?” The smug bastard just smiled and pushed the pile of picked leaves toward her. “The shirt is the last line of defense. It’s staying right where it is in case you burrow any farther under the first and second.” She threw in the pork mince for browning. “What are they?” “My self-control and my morals.”

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“I don’t see what morals have to do with it, Jory. I’m a grown woman. Unattached and free.” “I practically raised you, Bailey. If something went wrong, you didn’t run home to your mother. You ran to me. You still do,” he pointed out in exasperation. “For god’s sake, I bought your first pads when you were too embarrassed to talk to Grace. It’s wrong.” Bailey wondered who he was trying to convince, her or himself? “People’s hearts grow with them, Jory. Love changes and grows.” She looked straight at him and raised her chin defiantly. “I’m not a little girl, and we are not related. Nothing stands in the way but your stubborn ass.” She attacked the mince with a wooden spoon, violently smashing lumps that formed. Jory’s spluttering was music to her ears. She couldn’t rattle his tree very often, but it was rewarding as hell when she managed it. He threw his hands in the air and went upstairs. She hoped he didn’t see the victorious little smile that curled her lips. By launching a frontal assault on his moral compass, she had undermined his legendary self-control. Life was sweet. Dinner promised to be slightly strained until Jory tasted the food. His groan of appreciation sounded downright orgasmic. Bailey’s new goal in life became to wring that sound from him with something other than her cooking. Hands, mouth, body—she didn’t care, she just wanted to hear it again. Repeatedly. “This is amazing, Bailey. You’re right. Bought sauce just won’t cut it anymore. Have you got any more of this garlic bread?” “It’s bruschetta, and yes I do.” It was a pleasure to cook for an appreciative man. Mark had just grunted and accepted it as his due. Jory made it all worthwhile. A quick and easy modified tiramisu for dessert kept up the Italian theme. Jory ate two helpings before pushing back with a groan. “You’re going to have me fat as a pig in a week, Bailey. That was unbelievable. How come you’re not cooking in a restaurant?”

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“I did for three years. I stopped when I was six months pregnant with Nathan. I started burning my belly on the stove, and kitchen hours don’t mix with motherhood, so I didn’t go back.” She stood and collected the plates with her eyes wide open to hold back tears that threatened whenever she thought of Nathan. She missed her son like crazy. She could feel the weight of Jory’s gaze and knew she wasn’t fooling him. She was grateful when he let her walk away without questioning her tears. She stacked the dishwasher and tidied the kitchen, pulling herself together. When she returned, Jory had taken up position on the sofa instead of in the armchair he habitually sprawled in. He patted the leather next to him. “I’m going to make you cry,” he said honestly. “Better if I start off holding you than having to change seats halfway through.” He even had tissues sitting in reach on the coffee table. Bailey had been expecting this for the entire last week. It wasn’t like Jory to let sleeping dogs lie. She didn’t need to be told twice to sit down in his arms. She snuggled in beside him, tucking under his arm. Being upset was a small price to pay to be held in his embrace. “Tell me what happened with Nathan, baby.” It wasn’t a question. She sucked in a deep breath, exhaling noisily. “Mark and I had shared custody before the divorce was finalized. It was going well, or as well as it can with two people sharing a child, and then Mark moved his girlfriend in with him. She works from home, and Mark decided they could provide a better environment for Nathan than me putting him in day care four days a week to go to work. Things got a bit nasty, and Mark hired a PI to follow me. He found out I was going to Shivers and a couple of other clubs and confronted me when I went to pick up Nathan from his work. “We had an altercation, and that gave him enough to take to the family court. He got me declared unfit, and I only get one supervised visit a month.” Tears welled despite her matter-of-fact voice, and

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Bailey let them flow free, hands gripping Jory’s arm where it wrapped her. “You can fight it, love. An altercation and going to a D&S club isn’t enough to lose custody over.” Jory’s voice was deep and reassuring, but Bailey laughed mirthlessly. “I wish there was a way around it. I’d do anything to have Nathan with me, but I laid Mark out in front of six witnesses, including a state judge, and was heard to tell him that he was a dickless wonder who wouldn’t know how to please a woman if his life depended on it.” “That would do it.” Jory pulled her closer. She could feel his smile curve against her temple, but there wasn’t much warmth in it. “Was it a good hit?” “It was fucking spectacular.” “That’s my girl.” He reached over and plucked a tissue for her. “When is your next visit?” Bailey dabbed the tears away and blew her nose inelegantly. “Not until the end of the month. I lost last month because I was in the hospital. It tears me up, I’m his mother and I’m missing so much of his life. Nathan is growing so fast now. I can’t believe he is off to school next year.” “I’ll drive you down for your visit, if you like.” “It’s a long way to go for a half day, Jory. I don’t expect you to do that.” “I want to check out Shivers and a few of the other clubs there anyway. Andy was talking about going, but he would tread on too many jurisdictional toes. We might spend the night there.” A night away with Jory? She could do that. “As long as I don’t have to beat off any skank-hoes calling you ‘master’ it will be fine.” He chuckled. “Is that a real word?” “It is now.” “Fine, but you don’t get in there unless you’re collared and I’m holding the chain. I don’t want any misunderstandings.”

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Bailey shivered at the thought of being collared and leashed. If it was anyone but Jory, it would have been a resounding ‘hell no’, but it was Jory. “So I get to be your slave for the night?” “No, you’re all pet—you shouldn’t be allowed out without a keeper.” He did have a point there. “Have you finished being soggy?” “As long as you don’t make me cry again.” “Well, stick a movie on and get back here before I change my mind.” Bailey found the longest movie she could and put it on. If Jory was letting her cuddle, she wanted every moment she could get. She wasn’t a Lord of the Rings fan, but it just went on and on, perfect for her purposes. The problem was that Frodo had only just met up with the rather tasty-looking Viggo’s character and her eyes slid shut. The closing credits were scrolling down the screen when Jory roused her. “That backfired, didn’t it, brat?” An inarticulate grumble at being disturbed was all Bailey could manage. Did that man miss nothing? “Go on. Get to bed. I’ll pack the dishes away.” Bailey dragged herself up the stairs and into the spare bed. Knowing Jory slept on the other side of the wall was one hell of a temptation. She wished she’d thought to pack her vibrator—the noisy plug-in one. Jory wouldn’t have it in him to ignore that sound night after night. But tonight she was too tired to make him listen to her sighs as she worked herself to orgasm as she had for the last three nights since her bandages had come off. Her clothes fell to the floor, and she slid between crisp cotton sheets and immediately into a comalike sleep. **** It started out as a gentle sigh that had Jory reaching for a pillow to put over his ears. He hadn’t realized how thin the internal walls were

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in the cabin until he’d laid awake listening to Bailey get herself off in the adjoining room. He was sure she strung the performance out for his benefit—no one took that long to come at their own hand. But this sigh was followed by a moan that was not in any way linked to pleasure. Cries and thrashing had him springing from his bed. The nightmares he had expected had arrived. He turned on her bedside lamp and knelt on the rug beside her solid timber bed. She thrashed wildly. Her head swung violently, and heartrending tears soaked her crumpled pillow. Her muffled cries of “no, no, no” seized his heart. “Bailey! Wake up, baby. Everything is all right. Just open your eyes.” He put his hand on her quilt-covered back, trying to rouse her from the nightmare without giving her further reason to panic. Her midnight-blue eyes sprung open, but there was no one home behind them. Her hands flayed wildly at his head. “Easy, Bailey. It’s me, baby. It’s Jory.” His voice reached out through the haze of panic. Awareness seeped into the tear-filled eyes. A broken cry erupted from her throat as she wrapped her arms around him. Jory enveloped her shaking form, holding her close. “I got you, baby. I got you.” She buried her face against his shoulder, and her tears fell against his skin, running freely. Her whole body convulsed with the force of her sobs. “Don’t let me go,” she begged. “I won’t baby, you’re safe now.” He kissed her hair and rested his chin on her head, waiting for the storm of her weeping to pass. Slowly she calmed. An occasional hitch and sniffle wracked her, but she was over the worst. Jory went to reach for a tissue, and she scrabbled at him desperately. “Just getting you a tissue, love. I’m not going anywhere.” He wiped her face, dabbing gently. “Lay back down. Good girl. Now roll over and I’ll hold you.” He followed her beneath the quilt, pushing the sheet down between them to screen his groin. He hadn’t grabbed any shorts in his rush, and no matter how good his intentions, Bailey’s plush ass

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nestling against it was not something a cock could ignore. Not even an obedient one like his. He had no idea she was naked until his chest met the bare, satiny skin of her back. And then it was too late. She cozied up to him, bringing her body into flush alignment with his. It felt like a missing piece had been slid into place. She fit just right against him. Her head tucked in under his chin, her ass snugged into his groin. His top leg naturally followed the bend of hers, her lower inner thigh a silken pillow beneath his. His arm curled around her, refraining from cupping a full breast by the thinnest of margins. All the tension drained from her body. His, on the other hand, was on high alert, a hound sniffing the wind. “Jory?” “Yes, baby?” “Can you leave the light on?” The catch in her voice said she was five years old again, while the lush, womanly body pressed against him sharply reminded him otherwise. “Please don’t leave me.” “I’ll be right here in the morning.” Whether he would still have his sanity or not was a different story. Bailey gave in to sleep quickly. Her slow, even breathing was easy to feel, pressed against him. Jory had no such luck. He decided that if he made it through to daybreak without molesting her he would qualify for sainthood. He brought his breathing and heart rate under control with some basic exercises, and sleep was starting to look like a real possibility. And then she rolled over. Her hand slid across his waist to splay on his back, and her silky thigh slipped in between his rough ones. Soft, full breasts pressed against his lower chest, and she snugged her hips against him. The hot kiss of her belly against his cock told him the sheet was gone. Only the fact that her breath still came deep and even made him hold his ground. It was torture. Sweet, agonizing torture.

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His cock was hard enough to pound nails. Every blood vessel in it throbbed with a life of its own, surging in erotic demand with the need for stimulation, but he ruthlessly stood fast. His control hung on by a thread as he employed every trick in his extensive repertoire to maintain it. In order to master someone else, you first needed to master yourself. Jory had thought his control was unshakable—the old, immovable object—but Bailey Verne was the irresistible force that shot it to hell. The scent drifted up to him. It was so faint at first it was all but lost amid her floral shampoo and the ghostly, lingering traces of her perfume. The musky allure of feminine arousal. Jory closed his eyes and wondered what heinous crimes he had perpetrated in a former life to deserve suffering like this. Whatever Bailey was dreaming now was no nightmare. She began to move against him, slow sultry movements, barely more than the tightening of supple muscles. Her large nipples furled and poked at the hard, flat plain of his chest. The perfume of her arousal filled the air, danced along his palate, and went to his head quicker than bad moonshine. The folds of her sex became slick and slid so easily against his hair-roughened thigh. The hitch in her breathing was his only indication that she awoke. Her writhing never ceased, but nor did it escalate. “Jory?” A grunt was all he could force past his clenched jaw. She tipped her head back. Her lips skated up his neck and along the stubble on his jaw. “Make me feel good. Make me forget.” He capitulated with a heartfelt groan. His lips seized hers roughly, slanting across them. He captured her moan of hunger and released one of his own. The clash of teeth on teeth pulled him up. Bailey had had enough rough for ten lifetimes. He backed off, keeping his kiss deep but gentle, dipping and sliding. Her taste rocked his senses. Her body was all over him. Silken skin. Soft and feminine curves. Hungry hands. Her thigh hooked over

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his hip. The soft, wispy regrowth on her mound caressed his hip as she rocked against him. “I’m all yours, baby. Take what you need.” Jory took his demons in hand and let her take the lead, relinquishing control like he never had before. She ate at his mouth, nipped his lips, and licked softly into his undemanding kiss. Her hands caressed him, explored his lean strength, followed the furrow of his spine and clutched him close. His mirrored hers as they caressed the body he had seen so much of, exploring and savoring succulent fruit he had forbidden himself so long ago. He knew he should stop. Knew it was wrong. But if it was wrong, why did it feel so fucking right? “I need you to take me. I don’t want to be in charge, Jory. Please.” Her plea spurred his lust, his resident demons exulting in her need to be dominated. Jory rolled her to her back and braced his wide, lean body above her. He collected one hand, running his own down the length of her arm to trap it in his grip. He pinned it above her head before capturing the other and bringing it to meet its mate above the spill of golden curls. He gathered her wrists in one big hand and looked into the dark pools of her eyes, dilated with need. “You sure this is what you want, baby? If you want sweet and gentle, you need to be in control. I can’t do that.” “I don’t want sweet and gentle. I just want you.” Bailey arched beneath him, scraping his chest with the fiery tips of her breasts. “Please, Jory.” The plea on her lips was more than he could take. This soft and submissive Bailey was a far cry from the ill-mannered hellion who teased and taunted and wouldn’t know “please” if it bit her on her saucy little ass.

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The growl that rumbled from his chest was utterly feral, animalistic and wild. Fire lanced through his bloodstream, sending sparks of passion and glowing embers of carnal need to burn his mind as he blanketed her body. Hot, silken flesh branded his senses as her thighs parted naturally to cradle his hips. He gathered one of her thighs. Hooked his elbow beneath her knee and left her helplessly exposed to his mercy. “Look at me, Bailey. You keep looking right at me.” He moved his hips, grimacing as his cockhead butted with uncanny precision against her lubricious entrance. The slick flesh convulsed, sucking at him like a tiny mouth. Begging to be filled. Pleading to be plundered. Staring into midnight indigo, he pushed into her molten cunt. A long, slow guide that went on and on, until he found her end a full inch before their pelvic bones clashed. He pinned her with his gaze and relentlessly continued, seeing her mouth part, hearing a fevered cry escape. “Fucking perfect.” He watched her revel in the sharp-edged pleasure as he rolled their pelvises together and made her take every last hairbreadth of his throbbing shaft. The roll of her hips intensified. The hot, slick pearl of her clit sought satisfaction furiously. The overriding need to dominate, to possess and conquer, had him lifting her leg higher, denying her purchase but sinking him infinitesimally deeper. “You don’t come until I say so, brat. If you want me, you play by my rules.” He withdrew slowly before thrusting back in, his voice deepened and rough. “That’s the way. Take all of me, baby.” Her pelvis tilted and pushed against his hold, striving to swallow every last bit he had to give. “Like a fucking glove,” he rasped, retreating, only to sink right back in. Like a slow but devastating dance, she moved with him. Her breasts heaved as each thrust found her cervix and wrung a gasp from her throat. Her midnight gaze burned him with sheer sexual need, holding his even when his eyes dropped to watch the dance of her

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hard-pointed breasts. He looked into a need that matched his own and took them higher. He felt the sweet clench of her flesh around his marauding cock and heard her cries of rising ecstasy. Lust clamored at his brain, screaming for satisfaction, for more fodder to feed his demons. His cock demanded more, always more, to sink inside her tight haven until they were both too sore to move and too exhausted to care. His self-control ceded some hard-won ground to the twin demons of lust and engorged flesh. Deep and hard, he pistoned into her, hearing her cries lift and reach. “Don’t you dare, baby. You wait for me,” he warned. “Can’t.” Her pants were breathless and thready as she strived to hold off her orgasm. “You will.” His voice was steely. “You wait for me, Bailey.” He lifted his hips, increasing the angle and making her cry out as the selfish stroke pressed him hard against her back wall. The hedonic caress stimulated the sensitive underside of his heavy cock, but it also mashed her clit with every downward thrust. “That’s it, baby. Take the pain with the pleasure. Sweet. Fucking. Agony.” Each word was punctuated with a deep, wet drive. Her head went back and she screamed, loud and long, as the freight train of delayed orgasm plowed through her. The constrictions gripped his cock and demanded his seed, tearing it from his balls before he gave his body permission for release. Powerful jets erupted. The illicit nature of the exodus heightened the raw ecstasy and total devastation of his orgasm. Jory felt like he had been turned inside out as his balls strived to expel his very being along with the briny semen that flooded her grasping cunt. He let her leg fall to the wayside. His other arm threatened collapse. His body trembled with the force of his climax, drained of strength as well as seed. Shaking arms wrapped his neck and tugged him down, letting him know his hold on her had broken as Bailey welcomed his weight. Her

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breathing was still more gasp than breath, but slim fingers stroked his back and smoothed his hair, the touch tender and nurturing, as if he were the one who would need comforting. Jory tucked his head in to her neck and closed his eyes before the water welling in them could escape and have to be acknowledged as tears. He had never felt anything but sexual relief and a sense of male satisfaction when he was inside a woman, but Bailey had grabbed his balls in one slender hand, his heart in the other, and shaken the living shit out of him. Hours spent finding the breaking point of the most talented sub did not compare to five too-short vanilla minutes in Bailey Verne’s loving, eager embrace. “Jory?” “Yeah, baby?” “I have had so many fantasies about sleeping with you”—her breath was still a little uneven, her fingers playing with the overly long hair at his nape—“but God almighty. They weren’t this damn good. I have never had anything compare to this.” Warm satisfaction swelled his chest at her words. He put his hand down automatically as he started to withdraw and froze. His heart slammed harder than the palm he wanted to slap into his forehead. No fucking condom! “Um, Bailey? We might have made more than a little love here, baby.” “Hmm?” “I didn’t use a condom, Bailey. I never forget. I’m so sorry, baby. I have a completely clean health record, but…” He knew for a fact she wasn’t on the pill. “Are you on birth control, love?” “No, but it is late in my cycle. It should be safe.” The wench didn’t even sound concerned. “There’s a reason people don’t use the rhythm method anymore, Bailey. We need to get you the shots or something.” “Why not condoms?”

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“Because after being inside you once, skin to skin, there is no way I’m letting anything come between us.” He kissed her hard before withdrawing and going in search of a cloth. “You need to see Doc. The sooner, the better.” Bailey rolled over and gave him peaceful eyes. He felt like screaming. He was panicking about giving her more than pleasure, and the wretch just laid there and ogled his ass as he walked out the door. But for some reason, the thought of a baby Bailey running around didn’t scare him nearly as much as it should. And that flat-out terrified him.

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Chapter 3 Bailey woke with a wide smile on her face and a few delicious aches. Oh. My. God. She had finally slept with Jory Raines! How long had she dreamt about that? Long before she had actually realized what it meant. The long line of Jory’s back beckoned enticingly. She wanted to run her tongue down its lean length. To let her taste buds learn the shape of all those well-defined muscles. Bite that mouthwatering ass concealed by the covers. The body that man had been hiding was unbelievable. Jory might be forty-five now, but there was not a soft spot on his hard and honed, chiseled body. He wasn’t bulky, but he had size on his side. His shoulders were square. His chest was nice and wide with a long, lean waist. His shoulder-to-hip ratio was damn near two-to-one. Spec-fucking-tacular. The slenderness of his hips and long, well-muscled thighs might lead one to assume he would have no ass. But the man had booty. The kind of booty that made you want to bite into it just because it was there. Bailey had been fighting that need since she had watched him walk to the bathroom last night. The urge to give into it now had her literally grinding her teeth. She turned away from temptation and slipped from the bed. An open assault on a sleeping male body would be frowned upon by the Dom in Jory, and now that she had finally had the privilege of his bed, Bailey wanted to do nothing to jeopardize her position in it. Slipping on a warm, fuzzy robe, she padded downstairs to shower and surprise him with breakfast. She wasn’t obedient or tractable

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enough to make a decent sub, but she was hell on wheels in the kitchen. Her mother had told her that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Mark had proven that theory wrong. So had her father. Not that she could really count that—Grace truly couldn’t cook for shit. But cooking for Jory made her happy. In a world of women’s lib, it probably wasn’t politically correct, but that was how she felt. She was glad he had a cleaner because she absolutely hated dusting and scrubbing, but kitchen and laundry duties she could handle. She whizzed around the well-equipped kitchen feeling fresh and new after a shower. The coffee was perking, and Bailey’s hands fairly flew, chopping and dicing ingredients for a breakfast omelet. Cream and eggs were whisked and seasoned in a bowl, waiting for footsteps overhead to be poured into the oiled pan. Crisp bacon, mushrooms, shallots, and two types of cheese waited nearby. Everything except for Jory. After finishing the cup of coffee, Bailey went to wake him. It was pushing half eight and he never slept past seven-thirty. Jory hadn’t moved but his head since she had left him. He was still face down and naked to the swell of his unbelievably fine ass, but he now faced away from the door. Bailey crept up and sat on the edge of the bed. When he didn’t stir, she did what she had wanted to all morning, but refrained from biting. She kissed one sheet-covered buttock and then skimmed her lips up the length of his spine. When she reached his nape and nibbled gently, the smile creasing his stubble-kissed cheek was easy to see. “Took you long enough, brat. I’ve been lying here waiting for you to come back since you got up.” Bailey’s heart sped up. He’d been waiting for her? “It’s a bit of a blow to a man’s ego when his lover finds the strength to get up first.” Her womb clenched deliciously when he said “lover.” “I didn’t mean to desert you. I just didn’t want to ruffle any of your dominant feathers by mauling your gorgeous body while you

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were sleeping.” She nipped at his neck. The salt of his skin mingled tantalizingly with her morning coffee. Jory chuckled sleepily. “There is nothing real dominant about me in the mornings, love. The idea of lying back and getting mauled is right about my pace.” “So I can…?” “Maul away to your heart’s content, brat.” Bailey didn’t need a second invitation. Every inch of his back was mapped by her tongue and worshipful lips. Her robe fell to the floor. A casualty to her desire to feel flesh to flesh and the wanton need to let her sensitive nipples graze his heated skin as her mouth explored him. Her need grew exponentially. Fluids coated her lower lips, and her breathing became fast and shallow. For over twelve years she had hungered for this man. It was going to take the rest of her life to satiate that hunger with the glorious bounty laid out before her. Even with his hot flesh under her tongue, it wasn’t enough. The sheet was ripped away, her mouth watering at the sight of his perfectly formed ass cheeks and the sac pressed against the bed below. Her teeth were pressed firmly into the resilient flesh before she registered moving. Jory’s hiss brought her back to her senses. She murmured an apology while her tongue begged forgiveness against the teeth-marked skin. Jory rolled over. Color mottled his high cheekbones. Bailey locked her gaze on his rampant erection and lowered her head. Jory seized her by the waist and pulled her up to straddle his hips before she could taste him. “I don’t think so, brat. There’s a bit too much cannibal in you this morning for that.” He raised his knees and she leaned back against them. His cock protruded from beneath her. The reddened head was broad and adorned with salty dew. She swayed her hips, enjoying the sensation of her arousal-slicked folds sliding along his thick arch.

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“God, you’re wet, love. I haven’t even touched you.” His eyes were heavily lidded, drowsy with erotic heat. His voice was sinfully appreciative, bringing a fresh flush of moisture. “I can’t help it.” She knew he wasn’t complaining, but she felt the need to defend her body’s reaction. “It’s entirely your fault, you’re just too damn sexy. Men your age should be falling apart at the seams, not looking good enough to eat.” “Get busy before I overlook the ego boost and take you to task on that ‘your age’ business.” His smile was pure temptation as he flexed his cock, making it jolt enthrallingly beneath her. Bailey nipped his bottom lip with sharp teeth as she lifted up to slide his hard flesh into her hungry sheath. Her fingers dug into the hard expanse of chest as his thick shaft penetrated her wet flesh. She was waiting for pain, or at least discomfort, after the frenzied storm of last night, but to her pleasure, his raised legs stopped her from taking him deep enough to hurt. The surprise must have shown on her face. “You don’t get this old without learning a thing or two.” His smile made her tighten around him as he pushed her upright enough to get at her achy, swollen breasts. “My legs also keep you forward enough to do this.” His hot mouth closed over her right nipple. The shock of the electrifying contact brought a cry to her lips. His mouth stilled and his eyes were questioning. It dawned on her that he thought he’d hurt her. “Don’t stop.” The hand she buried in his hair demanded his compliance. Heavenly suction drew at the swollen mound while a velvet tongue caressed the ruched peak. Her hips rode the pole of his desire in a torturously slow rhythm. Her senses were too enthralled with the magic of his mouth to demand satisfaction elsewhere. The vulnerable bud of her left nipple was not forgotten. Cupped in the heat of his palm, the roughened pad of his thumb circled and grazed the still-tender peak. Shards of pleasure pierced her womb

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from the gentle, synchronized onslaught and made her engorged clitoris beat with a life of its own. Her hand crept southward, seeking the throbbing bundle of nerves crying for stimulation. Jory stilled as her knuckles brushed his lower stomach. Her nipple popped wetly from his mouth. Hands on her shoulders pressed her back until she rested against his hard thighs. Bailey watched from beneath hooded lids as she circled her clit with a practiced finger, waiting for him to explode. For all his talk of not feeling dominant in the mornings, she knew she pushed him too far now. She deliberately goaded him, knowing the Dom in him would more than frown upon self-gratification. She licked her palm before bringing it to her left breast and rolling the hard nipple beneath its slick surface. “Oh fuck. Remind me to spank you later.” His eyes darkened along with his voice, filling with unadulterated lust, and his cock surged unbelievably harder within her. “Much later. That’s it, baby. Ride me. Take what you need.” Spurred on by his heated demands and hungry eyes, Bailey worked her clit leisurely, in no rush to find her pleasure as Jory enjoyed the show. “You’re in so much trouble, brat.” His voice promised retribution, but he made no move to interfere. His ice-blue gaze felt tangible on her flickering fingers, like lasers burning them with latent heat. “This is definitely worth two spankings.” “How about we make it three?” Bailey drawled. She lifted her hand, fingers shining wetly, and painted her bottom lip with her cream. Her tongue had only cleared her teeth when Jory’s hand fisted in her mop of blonde curls and pulled her down. His velvet tongue swept the full length of her lip before he groaned and sucked it into his mouth. His deep growl rumbled along Bailey’s spine and pooled in her loins. It would be so easy for her to come right now. One shimmy of her finger was all it would take, but she wanted Jory right there with her.

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“I want to feel your hand heat my ass, Jory. I dream about being over your lap.” She goaded him on, wanting to shake his legendary self-control. “I’d be completely helpless. I only trust you, Jory. You’re the only one I would let spank me.” “I’m the only man who will ever touch you again, Bailey.” Stark savagery colored his voice as he asserted himself in a brutal kiss that melted Bailey’s spine with its possessive heat. Her lips curled with satisfaction at the raw promise in his voice. Jory Raines was hers. Sitting back, she rode him in earnest. His hands on her hips guided her faster and harder. “Push yourself over, baby. Come for me.” His voice was ragged. His straight white teeth showed in a grimace that was more snarl than smile. “Not until you do.” Bailey panted, unable to resist defying his edict and provoking him further. It was damn near a shout that exploded from his throat a split second before he stiffened and the hot wash of his seed flooded her sex. She couldn’t have held off the orgasm that pulled her under if her life had depended on it. Bailey fought to keep her eyes open and her song of completion to soft gasps and gentle sighs. She didn’t want to miss a second of Jory’s pleasure. He bucked beneath her, caught up in the endless wave of climax that filled her to overflowing. Fingers dug into the giving flesh of her hips, grinding her down upon him. Bailey gloried in every nuance of expression that crossed his face. A pleasure so great it bordered on pain. Her chest swelled as she watched. She had done this to him. She had pushed him to the point where his illustrious control had disintegrated. The pleasure she derived from watching his was well-nigh greater than her own. A heady feminine power—alluring, seductive, and highly addictive.

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Light blue eyes stained with silver appeared from behind his sinfully thick ebony lashes. She knew a self-satisfied smile sat on her face, but it couldn’t be suppressed. Jory’s wide mouth curled endearingly into a grin, and he shook his head. “You are a goddamned menace, Bailey.” His voice was labored as he sucked air into his oxygen-depleted body. “Get down here and hold me before my heart pounds clear out of my chest.” Bailey snuggled down atop him, hands on his broad shoulders and her head under his chin. The thump of his heart was a deep comfort beneath her ear, and his softening cock was a delicious reminder of the pleasure they had shared. She had expected to find nefarious pleasures in Jory’s bed, not this comforting intimacy. She reveled in the closeness, but wondered what it would take to unleash his darker side. She wanted to experience the dark, driven, and compelling facet of his psyche. Have him take over her body and own it completely. Know the keen edge of that exquisite dual-sided blade of agony and ecstasy. Feel her pleasure burn brighter than ever before. Her horrific ordeal the last time she had attempted to meet those needs hadn’t dampened them. It had only brought a healthy dose of caution to them. She trusted Jory more than she trusted herself. He was the one to help her discover her own darker side. If only she was able to entice him to do so. His cock twitched and made her squirm. The resulting leakage compelled her to rise. “Eww! What a mess.” She smiled down at him. “I’ve already had one shower this morning. Now I need another. Want to shower with me?” She gave him an impish smile, making it more than apparent she knew that she was pushing. “You have used up your quota of indulgences for today, brat.” He swatted her ass. “Off you get. Go and clean your act up.” Bailey’s breath caught at the light tap, and her body screamed for more. “Don’t even think about it,” Jory warned, shaking his head in

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exasperation. He rolled the other way and escaped to the safety of his own room and its adjoining bathroom. The downstairs bath beckoned and Bailey followed, making sure she left her clothes in the room. She would employ every trick in the book and invent some new ones to win Jory over to her side, and that included wandering past him naked as often as could be reasonably arranged. **** Arms crossed over his chest, Jory leaned back in the chair and watched Bailey stack the dishwasher. Breakfast had been sublime, and he now sipped on a second cup of coffee as he subjected her to his scrutiny. What was he going to do with her? He didn’t have a fucking clue. The man in him said hold her close, love her and never let her go. The Dom argued she was a damaged soul, an inexperienced and volatile accident waiting to happen. Bailey might profess to like her sex on the rough side, but the brat did not have a naturally submissive bone in that womanly body. Jory didn’t want to live the D/s lifestyle twenty-four-seven, but he had come to terms with his needs years ago. It would kill something inside him to suppress his need to dominate, not to see his partner submit and glory in his domination and the erotic pain he enjoyed administering. Bailey would spend her time rocking from one punishment to the next, provoking him to lose control just like she had managed both last night and again this morning. He had always preferred “good girl” subs that went out of their way to please, not brats who deliberately goaded to get a response. She threatened his self-control, the self-mastery that was all important. He needed to bring her reckless behavior in check before she pushed him too far. But he knew the only way he had a hope in

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hell of taming her was to invoke the one consistent in her life—his love for her. Cold disapproval or threats to walk away would guarantee her behavior when no physical punishment or denial would. Bailey would fall into line with his demands if he even looked like turning away from her. He just hoped to hell he had the balls to pull it off—he could threaten all he liked, but he knew damn well he could never walk away from her now. Things were so much different when love was involved. Bailey was no casual plaything. She’d had him wrapped around her finger since she was five, and that wasn’t likely to change. Grace Verne had been a single mother in a time when the stigma attached had made her life very hard. When she had returned to Liberty Springs with a baby girl and no wedding band, the people had got behind her, offering the support that had been denied to her in the west Texas oil town where she had been working as a waitress. When Bailey was really young, she’d never say a word to anyone. The first time he’d heard her talk was when she’d skinned her knee at the fair and came to him for help, but she’d certainly made up for it since then. Bailey’s childhood had been one of the beloved stray. She’d had a home and a long-suffering mother, but had been more at home hanging around Pete Walker’s forge, or tagging along behind Jory like a talkative lost puppy. Grace had raised Bailey in her grandmother’s old place, hardly more than a shack, but it had backed on to Jory’s property. He’d bought the secluded forty acres when his mother had died. He’d needed the solitude it had provided and the means to avoid the awkwardness that had grown between him and his father without his mother to buffer it. Back then he had lived in a trailer in the shed while he had built his oversized cabin, and he’d never known when he got home if there’d be a blonde-haired little monster waiting to talk his head off or he’d be alone. She’d been a both a blessing and a royal pain in the ass back then, but when she’d left to go to Denver, she’d taken a part of his heart with her. That piece of him that she owned

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was the reason he had never settled down or let a woman be more than a friend or a plaything, and certainly not both. She was all grown up now, and as much as it pained him to admit it, part of him acknowledged he’d known she would eventually slip under his guard. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept the night away with a woman in his arms. Even when he was providing aftercare to a sub, as rewarding as he found the experience of grounding them once more, he couldn’t fall asleep with them. He started feeling crowded and starved for space. With Bailey it had just felt right. The morning sex had blown his mind. He hadn’t laid back and let a woman ride, let alone masturbate while she did, for literally decades. Not since he was young and green and had sought to deny the demons seeking a hold on him. And the worst thing about it was that it had been good, too damn good. He didn’t allow his subs to touch themselves at all, but for Bailey he would make an exception. He wanted her spread on his lap in front of a mirror so he could watch her do the job properly. Wanted to watch one of his dildos stretch her pink flesh as she fed it into her body for his pleasure. A stirring in his flesh tore his mind away from temptation. Now wasn’t the time. She was undermining his self-discipline without doing anything. “Bailey, come here.” He made sure his voice was cold and distant. The tone that had brought subs to tears before. He pushed back a chair with his foot. “Sit.” She did as she was told. A small smile curled her luscious lips as she sat primly. He ached to feel those lips wrap his cock, but not until he got her over her proclivity for biting. There were places he definitely did not enjoy teeth marks. “You think you want what I dish out, Bailey, but I don’t take on any sub without knowing their boundaries. Both their hard nos and their soft nos—the things they won’t do no matter what and the things they are negotiable on. I want you to think about that today while I’m out. You write a comprehensive list, and we’ll go over it tonight,

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because you are not getting anywhere near my dungeon until I know exactly where I stand.” “There is nothing I wouldn’t let you do to me, Jory.” “That’s what I’m scared of. You need a healthy dose of selfpreservation here. For the sake of the exercise, pretend it is not me, think you are submitting your body into the hands of a stranger”—he saw fear widen her eyes—“one who will respect the terms you lay out. It can always be renegotiated later. You do your list and I’ll do mine. We need to reach a working agreement before this goes any further.” He stood and kissed the top of her head. “I’ve got to duck into work for a few hours today and sort some things out before I go back on Monday. Andy’s number is beside the phone, and you have mine. There’s a laptop in the office if you need to make any arrangements to have your stuff shipped here.” He gave her an amused look. “You can’t live out of two bags and my closet forever.” He looked critically at the expensive dress shirt of his she wore, but couldn’t find the heart to tell her to stop stealing them. “See you in a couple of hours, brat.” **** Non-negotiable: No blood. No lasting damage. No blades. No needles. No electricity. No breath control. No gags. No bodily functions. Punishment is fine, not humiliation. Negotiable:

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Hard restraints. Anal penetration. Hard clamps. Bailey found her list was more exhaustive than she had previously thought. An hour or so of cruising BDSM info sites had her eyes open wide. There were definitely things no one was doing to her. Not even the man she loved and trusted above all others. She liked being restrained, liked a bit of spanking, even a flogger was okay, but her self-preservation was a little well grounded for many things she found information on. She was looking forward to enjoying a scene with Jory that involved actual sex. The well supervised scenes she’d been a part of had been on the grounds of no actual sex. She’d wanted to push her boundaries and experiment with Jory’s world, but she hadn’t been able to give herself to a stranger. She acknowledged she would only ever be a dabbler—she was no one’s slave in the day-to-day world. But a sex slave? Well, the idea of being Jory’s personal sex slave floated her boat on so many levels. She had booked a removal company to empty her apartment and bring it down to Jory’s, and ordered supplies so she could begin working from the shed. The gallery she had been working for agreed to keep taking pieces on commission even if she started selling elsewhere. She wondered what Jory was going to make of her rather unusual sculptures. The prices they had started to bring were quite frankly terrifying. Each piece now brought in excess of a thousand dollars. She grinned to think that an effort to piss her ex-husband off had paid off so handsomely. She glanced at the clock. She still had an hour or so before Jory was due home. Thinking fresh fish would be lovely for dinner, she grabbed a hat and a towel and headed outside, sliding on a pair of Jory’s oversized flip-flops. The gear and rods were exactly where she remembered, behind the personal access door into the double bay

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shed. A few turns of the spade in the compost heap and she had some wriggling, disgusting bait. The trout loved the worms, and she had never had the patience for lure fishing. The grassy bank below the deck was perfect for stretching a towel out on. If it got too hot, it was easy to retreat into the shade of the jutting verandah. The grimy worm was reluctant to get on the hook, but she couldn’t blame it. She gritted her teeth, threading the poor creature on, and cast out near the big log that jutted into the fastmoving water and formed a still backwater. She slipped the rod into a pipe rod-holder spiked into the bank and picked up another. She repeated the process with the second rod and another unfortunate worm. The small, round cat bells she clipped to the end of the rods would alert her to any fish feeling suicidal today. This was her favorite place for swimming, and now that her wounds had healed and she wouldn’t cause scarring by being exposed to the sun, Bailey planned on spending a lot more time outside while the weather allowed. Slipping off her borrowed long-sleeved shirt and bra, she lay face down in the early summer sunshine. She could almost feel her body absorbing the vitamin D she had denied it for the past couple of weeks. For all the warnings about skin cancer, Bailey was a sun worshiper at heart. She did try to restrict the time spent in it and covered up and used sunscreen, but every now and again she indulged the hedonistic pagan within. It couldn’t have been that much later when the violent tinkle of a bell woke her, for the sun hadn’t moved too far in its trek across the sky. It did take her a moment or two to get her bearings and grab the correct rod. She had the fish halfway in when the other rod started jingling merrily. At first she thought the line had been fouled by the first fish, but the whirring of the drag let her know it was no mistake. She was hopping from foot to foot trying to decide what to do when she heard a chuckle from the deck above. “Need a hand?” Frigging hell! Jory had snuck back home while she slept.

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“Only if you want fish for dinner,” she kept winding in the one already halfway there. Jory opened the gate and came down the steep stairs off the porch. He grabbed the other line and expertly untangled it from about hers as she tried to land a monster trout. She got the landing net under it just in time. The line snapped as the fish touched the net. Jory had an easier time of his once her line no longer hampered his efforts. Bailey slipped the landing net under his fish as he brought it to shore. Two very respectable Rainbows were in the bag. Bailey struggled to lift the net, using two hands. Jory was no help at all. He just kept chuckling away. “What’s so damn funny?” “You fishing in your panties.” Bailey looked down. Until he pointed it out, she had been totally oblivious to the fact that she was topless. “Isn’t this how everyone does it?” “No, but I can see women’s topless fishing taking off.” His grin was contagious, not to mention devastatingly gorgeous. “Okay, smarty-pants. You clean the fish while I get dressed.” “I wondered how you were going to manage that if you did catch one. You have never cleaned your own fish.” “Why do it yourself when someone else will do it for you?” Bailey gave him an impish smile, handed him the net, and made a timely exit. Jory came in ten minutes later with two cleaned and beheaded fish. “There you go, princess. Two fish with all the yucky bits done.” “Thank you.” She kissed his jaw while his hands were full and then relieved him of the fish. “Go and wash your hands now,” she chided. Jory smacked her ass as she turned to go, but when she looked back around at him, he was sauntering toward the bathroom. The slap had made her knees weak and her pussy weep, and he just walked away oblivious. Some things just weren’t fair.

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She slid the fish onto a plate, dressing them with sage and lemon wedges and seasoning them well before covering the plate and slipping it in the fridge to marinate. All she had to do later was throw a simple salad together, grill the fish, and dinner was sorted. Jory came back out of the bathroom and picked up the list she had left on the table. Her heart rate soared as he flopped on the lounge and began reading. His face showed absolutely no emotion, not one change of expression as he quickly read the list—the perfect poker face. “I’m glad to see you found some boundaries.” He fished a folded piece of paper out of his top pocket with two long fingers and extended it toward Bailey. “Here are my requirements. See if there is anything in there that makes you choke.” Bailey walked over and took it, feeling trepidation build. What if he wanted something she wasn’t capable of? Losing Jory wasn’t an option, but she had discovered she did have limits she wouldn’t compromise on. She sat down in the armchair and unfolded the paper with shaking hands, knowing he watched her even closer than she had observed him, and unlike Jory, she couldn’t play poker for shit. Jory’s rules. You will wear your collar as and when directed. While wearing said collar you will; Be respectful of me at all times. “Sir” will suffice. Answer any and all questions promptly and honestly. Obey each and every command promptly and with good grace. Not hold back any reaction, positive or negative. Surrender all rights to pleasure and gratification to me. Accept punishment for any and all infractions, those listed here and any more to be named at a later date, the punishment to fit the crime and be determined as and when the need arises. Accept my judgment as final and binding.

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Bailey blinked hard. She could almost hear him dictating the rules in his icy, no-nonsense voice. The caveat about “while wearing the collar” thawed the ice in her veins. They were adding to their relationship, not replacing it. She looked up into his arctic gaze. “Any questions?” His eyebrows rose in challenge. “When do I get my collar?” Jory threw back his head and laughed. “What?” Bailey was a little disconcerted by his response. Open laughter was not a typical Jory Raines reaction. “You never cease to amaze me, brat. I expect you to throw the paper in my face and tell me to go to hell, and you ask ‘how soon?’ I guess I have underestimated your desire to submit.” Bailey kept her response to a quirky smile. What he had underestimated was her need to be dominated by him. And that was a completely different matter. He reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew a length of black velvet ribbon and pulled the heavy signet ring off his finger. He’d obviously been prepared for all possibilities. “Come over here and we will see just how far this resolve of yours stretches.” He threaded the ring onto the velvet and held it stretched between two large but shapely hands. Bailey rose and went to him, held captive by his silvered eyes. “On your knees.” She sunk to the ground before him. He held the ribbon below her chin. “Head on my knees.” When Bailey lowered her head, she felt the velvet wrap her throat, his heavy signet noticeable where it hung. He tied it firmly enough that it wouldn’t slip but not so tight that it restricted her in any way. It was just a gentle reminder of what she had agreed to. He lifted her chin, raising her from her lowered position. “It looks good on you, Bailey. I’ll order you your own collar, but this will serve for now.

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“Stand up and strip. I want you naked while we have a little talk.” Bailey restrained an inappropriate grin. If he thought having her nude would make her feel powerless, he had pegged her wrong. She knew damn well her body was better than average. It wasn’t a skinnyass model’s body, but it was better than fine. She had curves in all the right places, and motherhood hadn’t been too cruel to her. A few spider-silk-fine lines on the sides of her full breasts and a softer tummy were the only giveaways. She dropped her clothing, minimal as it was, to the floor, and stood proudly before him. “Fold the clothes and put them on the chair.” Okay, so that she didn’t like, but she remembered his requirements and obeyed silently. “I bet that hurt.” Jory was looking particularly pleased with himself. “Bring that ottoman over here and sit on it. Right here.” He pointed to a spot just out from where she had kneeled to be collared. Bailey lugged the item from beside the armchair to where he directed and sat on it. “Toes hooked behind the legs, hands on the back. I want you to hide nothing from me.” It was definitely more uncomfortable to expose her folds to his gaze in the cold light of day, but she knew he had seen more when she had been injured, and she had coped with that. She straightened her spine and sat proudly, making sure her breasts were sticking out more than strictly necessary. His eyes made a slow perusal of her body, that damn poker face in place as he treated every inch to his scrutiny. It felt like a lifetime before he spoke. “I can see your body has no trouble with being told what to do. In fact it seems to like it just fine.” Bailey fought the need to squirm. She knew her breasts were puckered into hard points despite the warm afternoon, but she would be embarrassed as hell if she was dripping all over the leather on which she sat. “But I’m not convinced about your mind. Let’s start with some simple questions. What is your ‘hard no’ safe word?”

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“Red light.” She winced when he raised his eyebrows imperiously. “Sir.” She tried not to choke on the word. “Pretty unimaginative, but straightforward. Do I assume ‘yellow light’ is your ‘soft no’?” “Yes, sir.” It came easier the second time. “Have you used them before, in the course of a monitored session?” “Only the yellow light, sir.” “And why did you call foul?” His eyes were unemotional, his voice clinical. “There was no way I was letting a plug of the size he picked up anywhere near my ass, sir.” “Yes, I noticed your aversion to anal play in your list. Don’t let what happened hold you back from enjoying all the pleasures out there to be had, Bailey. That is something we will overcome. I will not accept you holding any part of yourself back from me. While you wear that collar, you belong to me.” His words made the ring suspended from the velvet band weigh heavier against her skin. “What about punishments? What have you been subjected to?” She noticed he didn’t ask if she had been punished. “I’ve been paddled, lashed with a flogger, and had stripes from a riding crop, sir.” “Unimaginative cretins.” He sniffed. “You have never been denied orgasm, or plugged and spanked?” Bailey blushed. “It is a bit hard to deny something that won’t happen, sir.” Jory’s mask slipped a little, incredulity creeping in. “You weren’t even getting orgasm from your sessions and you kept going back? How many times did you participate in scenes?” “About ten, with three different Doms.” A muscle ticked in Jory’s utterly masculine jaw. “And yet you say you like it. How does that work?”

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“I got excited, more excited than I ever had over regular sex, but it only worked as long as…” “As long as what?” He snapped, not approving of her hesitation. “As long as I imagined it was you. Sir.” The honorific was a little late coming. Icy blue eyes heated with something. Was it a glimmer of satisfaction? “I think I can safely say that you reaching orgasm will not be a problem with me. What will be more of a problem is teaching you to delay your pleasure. “I won’t always let you come, Bailey. I might drive you right to the edge and leave you there. I might put your collar on, put you on your knees, and shoot my load down your throat and walk away. Once that collar goes on, I’m in complete control of both your pain and your pleasure, and for a while you won’t be getting one without the other.” He came to his feet, towering over her. Bailey unconsciously licked her lips. His fly was level with her mouth. “I don’t think so, brat. Stand up.” Bailey complied, wondering what he had planned. Jory hooked the hardwood and leather footrest with his booted foot and pulled it beneath him. Bailey was relieved to see her arousal hadn’t leaked all over the leather. Jory sat and gave her a smile that promised she wasn’t going to like what was coming next. “This morning you deliberately taunted me. You said, and I quote, ‘I dream about being over your lap.’ Well, I think it is time for you to face the reality, sweetheart. I don’t do love taps. You’ll think before you tell me to make it three next time.” He took her hand and tugged her to her knees beside him. Bailey held back a moan of pure pleasure as he bent her over his lap. Her skin soaked up the touch of his hands like desert rain. He smoothed his hand the length of her back and over her rounded ass. “You have a great ass for spanking, Bailey. Firm and full, and nicely pale. My handprints are going to look beautiful painted in red.”

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She fought not to squirm and press her thighs together. She could feel the wetness building. Jory had to be able to see it, or smell it. “You like this part, huh? How does it feel?” “Exposed, intimate, wicked.” Bailey could hear the husk in her voice. “Better than I imagined, sir.” “Let’s see how long that lasts.” Without warning, his hard palm came down with a crack right where her right thigh joined her buttock. A loud oww erupted from her as fire lanced through her. It had fucking hurt! He trapped the heat beneath his palm and rubbed gently, spreading the burn and intensifying the sensation. “Not what you were expecting, brat?” “Hurts.” “Well, of course it does. Do you want more, or do we stop this game right now?” Bailey felt her heart stutter at the idea of Jory walking away. “Give me more.” The burning heat had spread to her pussy. If only she had something to work her clit against, it would feel spectacular. “That sounded like a demand, and I’m damn sure there was no ‘sir’ in there either. I don’t think I have your full attention, Bailey. I think a change in position might bring home to you who is really in charge. Stand up and straddle my knees, facing away.” Bailey did as she was instructed, wondering how the hell he was going to spank her ass while she was sitting on it. She found out fast when he spread his legs further and pushed her forward until her face was touching the rug between her hands and her ankles were tucked under his arms. “Rest your head on your arms, brat. You might be here for a while. If Bailey had felt exposed before, she felt positively on display now. Jory could see absolutely everything. As if to prove it, he trailed a finger from the soft down of her mound, through her embarrassingly wet folds, and circled her asshole. “Mmm, I definitely prefer you like this. I want to see how much you tighten when I spank you.”

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Bailey shuddered with pleasure when one big hand cupped her mound, his thumb sliding into the slick heat of her vagina. She tightened automatically, holding him inside. “Tight, but I think you can do better.” His other hand came down in a flurry of blows, setting her skin alight. No two smacks landed in the same place. Bailey concentrated on the grip of his hand and let the pain wash over her, actually relaxing beneath the onslaught. It took her a while to realize he had finished. “Good girl,” he crooned, “you gave in beautifully then.” He rubbed the redness on her ass and kneaded at her mound, as if in reward. “But if you want to come, I want something, too. I want to feel the grip of your tight little ass around my finger when you do.” He stroked over her tight pucker. “Will you give me what you have given no other the right to do, Bailey? Or will you let your fear hold you back from greater pleasure than you have ever known?” His voice was almost hypnotic, lulling her senses and drawing her deeper under his sensual spell. Bailey wanted to please him, to meet his needs, but her aversion to anal play was deeply ingrained. She embraced the fact that this was Jory, and despite her fear, she trusted him completely. “Be gentle with me, please, sir.” She might have imagined the soft caress of lips against her firekissed cheeks, but the whispered promise reached her ears. “Always, love.” His slick thumb rubbed her own juices around her rosebud, massaging gently. “That’s the way, loosen up. Good girl.” Bailey felt a sharp pinch as he pressed, but before she could protest he backed off. “You are doing so well, sweet. As soon as you let me inside, I’m gonna spank this red ass and push you over into the biggest orgasm you have ever had.” A groan escaped at his heated words. Her body surrendered and allowed him to take whatever he wanted as pleasure became more

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important than any fears. His finger rubbed over the hood of her clit as he breached her anus. Her cry was pure pleasure. “That’s it, love. Don’t hold anything back from me. You’re going to get that third spanking you so desperately wanted this morning. I want you to count them. When you get to ten, you can come, but not before.” She felt his thumb seat more securely inside her tight grip. The insidious invasion could not be ignored. Nor could it be assimilated. Even as the first blow landed and she called out “one,” it was the forbidden impalement that held her captive. The blinding fire branding her skin and the sensuous stroke of his finger against the trembling knot of her swollen clit came in a distant second. Two, three, and four fell in rapid succession. The rest he dragged out using the time between to push her closer and closer to the edge. Just before nine, Bailey felt her burgeoning orgasm quiver. She was certain that one more stimulus would cause it to overflow and take her. “You hold it back, brat. Breathe through it. Two more and you can let it take you.” He pumped his thumb slowly inside her, grating over sensitive nerve endings. Bailey thought the menacing reminder would help pull her back, but instead it pushed her closer. “I’m going to come. Don’t make me, please. I’m trying to be good.” All sense of pride was gone as she begged openly. “You like having something in your ass now, don’t you, baby?” “Yes. God, yes. If you move it again I won’t be able to control it.” “Well don’t then, baby. Let it all out.” Two blows fell swift and hard, and his whole hand massaged her inside and out. Bailey heard a genuine scream explode from her throat as the storm broke loose inside her. Buffeted by the strength of her climax, she jerked and jolted in his grip. The pleasure went on and on as his hand kept up the devastating assault on her nerves. Only when she was exhausted, muscles twitching uncontrollably, did Jory cease his attentions.

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He raised her back up and enfolded her in his arms, holding her tight against him. Bailey struggled to draw breath as she willed her pounding heart to settle. Lord, she had never had an orgasm grip her like this one had. Long and hard, it had rocked the very foundations of her being. The scratch of denim against her tenderized ass reminded her that, while she might be all done and in a boneless mess, Jory was rock hard behind his fly. “If you give me a moment or two I would love to give you what you need. Just let me catch my breath.” “It’s not like that. Bailey. I know how much you enjoy seeing me come. That’s a reward you are going to have to work for. Now sit back, be a good girl, and let me hold you.” His voice brooked no argument. Bailey was stunned. Every male she had ever had anything to do with thought pleasure given was to be reciprocated as fast as possible with heavy interest. She let her head fall back against Jory’s shoulder and breathed in the heady scent of aroused male and spectacularly satisfied woman. This afternoon had merely been an experiment on Jory’s behalf, she knew that. But it raised a question. If this was just to settle his curiosity, how fucking good was it going to be when he got serious?

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Chapter 4 “We’ve been invited over to the Whelan’s old place tonight. Emma is throwing a housewarming party for her sister. Do you want to go?” Jory was toweling off sweat from his run as he spoke. He restrained a smile when Bailey appeared more interested in the progress of sweat runnels down his chest than in what he was saying. “Hello! Anybody home?” Bailey actually shook her head before she focused. “Um, yeah. It would be good to get out. Other than Andy, I haven’t seen anybody since I came back.” Jory breathed a sigh of relief. He was concerned Bailey was becoming a recluse. She had always been a social butterfly. It wasn’t natural for her to remain shut away. “That’s good. I’m going to go for a quick swim before lunch, do you want to come?” She had declined on joining him for a run this morning, muttering something about not having the right underwear with her. He thought it had more to do with being shitty with him for not continuing on with a bit more play after dinner last night. She had been more than a little pissed when he had told her to go to sleep, but he knew she needed time to process the experience. “I haven’t got a swimsuit.” Jory headed out toward the verandah, wondering how long it would take her to follow when he baited her. “Neither do I.” The wench beat him into the still-icy water. Jory overtook her halfway down the swimming hole and would have beaten her back by a good margin if the little cheat hadn’t turned

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and started back as soon as he passed her. As it was, he only reached the gentle backwater a few seconds before her. He could touch the sandy bottom comfortably, but Bailey had to bob or tread water. But Bailey being Bailey, she wound herself around him like an invasive weed, blonde curls darkened and straightened by the water. He couldn’t help but smile in return as she beamed up at him. Her hands draped over his shoulders and legs wrapped around his hips. He had never seen her looking as happy. She had always had a wistful quality to her smile before. A discordant note that hadn’t quite rang true. But she looked like that missing piece had been found. It humbled him to think that her love for him affected her this much. To see Bailey this happy, he would have given in years ago. But the past couldn’t be changed, only lessons learned from it. “I didn’t get my kiss this morning,” she groused, lip pouting adorably. “What kiss?” “My good-morning kiss. I woke up and you were gone.” Jory smiled at her blatant maneuvering. “Oh, you mean the kiss that you slept right through? I could have sworn you were awake when you gave me that sleepy little smile.” “It doesn’t count if I’m not awake.” “But you’re a cranky beast if you get woken before you’re ready.” “Only if you don’t wake me nice.” Jory capitulated and gave her the kiss she had been angling for. He loved the way she melted in his arms and the feel of her smile against his lips. “There you go, brat. Happy now?” “No, just horny.” “And so shy about it, too.” He felt her rub enticingly against his flesh, stirring bravely in the chilly water. “It’s too cold for that in here. Come inside and we’ll find out if that shower is big enough for two.” The way her eyes lit up made Jory feel invincible. ****

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Jory was dressed and ready to head into town. It promised to be a half-hour wait as Bailey went through all those obscure little rituals that went into making a woman “look presentable.” Personally, he thought she had never looked better than when she had been kneeling in front of him in the shower, begging to suck his cock. But he could pretty much guarantee she didn’t want to hear that. He was that damn clean he should have squeaked when he walked. Bailey hadn’t missed an inch of skin when he’d told her to go at it with the cake of soap. He’d had to warn her off, actually. Soap in the eye of your dick stung like a son of a bitch. Her mouth had been double-dyed heaven. The little brat had sucked him dry and looked for more. He was sure he had claw marks on his ass from her grip on him. He was grateful he stayed hard after coming. He’d had enough left to pin her against the wall and give her the half dozen hard thrusts that had sent her over the edge to join him. She was so damn responsive. She got ready to fly if he so much as looked at her clit. He heard movement on the stairs and lifted his thoughts to a higher plane. His cognitive function was usually driven from higher than his belt, but Bailey just affected him on so many levels. What she was wearing certainly didn’t help. The cutoffs were barely decent, showing off the line of thigh that was surprising long for her five-five height. The flowing top in shades of fire clung in places and draped in others, accentuating her full breasts and slender waist. Her hair was lacquered with some kind of goop that defined her shiny curls and smelled like a sultry dream. Her eyes looked even bluer than usual. The barest hint of makeup emphasized the midnight orbs, while her lips glowed like glittery jewels with berry-flavored gloss. She looked good enough to eat. Good enough that any sane man would lock her in the basement instead of taking her out in public.

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She was going to get drooled over all damn night. At least the Whelans were off the market. Zach and Colby would flirt with anything with two sets of lips. He decided to show some grace instead of bundling her off to the basement. He got to his feet and held out his hand. “You scrub up all right, Bailey. You look beautiful.” “Thank you.” Her smile was shy, as if being told she was beautiful was a novel experience. “You look pretty good, too. Turn around.” Jory obeyed with a grin. “God, you’ve got a great ass. I can’t believe I had you naked and didn’t bite it again.” She sounded genuinely disappointed. “Your cannibalistic tendencies worry me, brat. I’m glad you didn’t mention that before we got in the shower.” “So am I.” She winked impishly and headed out the door. “I’ve got to get something from the car. I’ll be with you in a second.” Jory was puzzled, but he grabbed the jacket she had clearly forgotten off the back of one of the kitchen chairs and headed for the Jeep. Emma had been quite adamant on the “bring nothing” part of the invitation when he had seen her yesterday, insisting that everything would be taken care of. She just wanted her sister to get to know the locals. Ty had stood back, looking exasperated but more than a little proud of the woman he was to marry. Colby and Zach hadn’t been there, but although it was Ty that would walk down the aisle with her, everyone knew she would be saying yes to all three Whelans. Jory privately felt that if there was a woman that needed more than one man, Emma Duncan was it, and the local law, Andy Calhoun, was in total agreement. The woman was a menace that needed constant supervision. Jory still had trouble not laughing every time he thought of her and Zach and that bunch of school kids in the caves. Seeing Zach Whelan at a loss for words was a rare and wonderful thing.

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Bailey clambered in the open door with a heavy-looking object held in her hands that was draped in the scarf he had seen dangling on the mirror of her car. “What have you got there?” “A housewarming gift for Casey. I hope she is fairly broadminded. I remembered I had it in the back.” Jory backed out and headed the Jeep down the bumpy drive. “I don’t think she would have moved to the Springs if she wasn’t. Why, what is it?” “You know how I told you I’ve been doing some pieces for that gallery?” She sounded like a little girl hoping her parents wouldn’t overreact. Her voice had that real “but it followed me home” quality to it. “Yes, go on.” He kept his voice level when all he really wanted to do was laugh at her trepidation. “Well, I make everyday items out of recycled steel, but mine are kind of sexual in nature.” “What, like pornographic mailboxes or something?” “That’s a great idea!” She clapped a hand to her mouth before continuing. “Um, yeah. That’s the general gist of it.” “Go, on. Give me a look.” He truly was curious now. She pulled back the scarf to reveal a wrought-iron-looking welcome mat. It even had “welcome” in flowing script across it. It was when he looked closer that he realized that what had looked like typical filigree swirls around the word was intricately worked erect cocks complete with balls. He laughed. Trust Bailey to put penises on something you wipe your feet on. “I take it you weren’t feeling very charitable towards the male of the species when you made this?” “No. They were somewhere on the rung between cockroaches and pond scum,” she admitted. “You truly don’t mind that I make things like this? Mark would have had a heart attack.”

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Jory knew that Mark was an insecure moron, but he refrained from mentioning it. “Hell, no. I’m waiting to see what else you come up with. Is there a market for this kind of stuff?” “A small but surprisingly profitable one. This piece would have had a tag on it for twelve hundred bucks.” Jory blinked. “How many do you make?” “A couple each week. It depends on the size. You don’t have to worry about supporting me, Jory. I can probably keep you in the manner in which you would like to be accustomed,” she joked. “Do you think Casey would like it?” “I haven’t met her yet, but from what I have heard so far, she will love it.” From what he had heard, Casey Buckley had left the Marshall brothers at a total loss for words in the supermarket the other day. Anyone who could do that to Luke and Brody was a wrecking ball in human guise. He couldn’t wait to meet the woman who had upset their perfect little world. “I can’t wait to meet Emma. She has got to be some woman to hold on to those three.” “Do I detect a little admiration of the Whelans there?” Jory was amused. He knew she had never had serious eyes for anyone but him in Liberty Springs, much to his earlier disappointment. “I have ovaries and two functioning ocular devices—of course I admire them. Colby and Zach are sex on a goddamn stick, and Ty’s got that hulking, silent thing going.” She shuddered deliciously. Sometimes he could hope she was a little less honest. “I suggest you try and control yourself around them tonight. Emma is a touch protective of her men,” he said dryly. “I heard about it on the news. She sure doesn’t muck about.” She gave him a teasing smile. “I don’t care, because I have got the man I want anyway. You just make sure you don’t start drooling over any other woman tonight, or you’ll find out how much I don’t muck around either.”

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“Jealous much?” “Only where you’re concerned.” Jory reveled in her possessiveness. He normally cut a sub loose at the first sign of it, but with Bailey it warmed his heart. “I’ll try to restrict my drooling to you,” he promised, laughter staining his voice. He pulled up at the front of Casey’s house. It looked like all the parking area down the back was full of heavy machinery. He recognized a few of the other cars along the roadside, though there weren’t that many there. Emma said she was being a little selective about who got introduced to her little sister. He guessed Cal and Conner hadn’t rated an invite, nor would Jack and Danny from the garage. But if he had a baby sister, he sure as hell wouldn’t want those two anywhere near her either. Bailey had already exited the Jeep by the time he got around to her side. She didn’t give a man many opportunities for gallantry, that was for certain. She did, however, entwine her fingers with his when he offered his hand. The R-rated doormat was tucked under her other arm. He was genuinely looking forward to seeing what else the little deviant came up with. Besides her irreverent sense of fun, it was excellent workmanship in the piece. For some reason the idea of Bailey wielding a welding rod made his cock stir. He pushed the mental picture away quickly. It wouldn’t do to meet Emma’s little sister with a hard-on looking for a way out of his jeans. “What is going through your head, Jory? You’re blushing.” There was indisputable amusement in her accusation. Jory took a deep breath and ignored her. Colby was hovering on the front porch. Jory shook the younger man’s hand. “Why are you hiding out here?” “Emma mentioned that someone needs to clean the grill, so I made myself suitably scarce.” He smiled down at Bailey. “Jory’s brat came back. You’re looking finer than ever, Bailey.”

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“Just remember the ‘Jory’s’ part, Colb.” Jory couldn’t help but warn, but Bailey elbowed him in the side. “Give me a hug, you big lug. Congratulations, I hope she makes you happy.” Colby put his arms around her shoulders and hugged her tight. “At least as happy as that grumpy old guy makes you. Congratulations to you, too.” Jory was quick to reclaim her, tugging her tight to his side. Neither Bailey nor Colby missed the significance of it, either. Colby laughed. “Come on, it should be safe to go back in now. I can’t wait ’til everyone sees this.” He held the door wide and ushered them in. **** Bailey tried to conceal her satisfaction, but she knew she looked like the cat that got the cream. She had expected Jory to keep his distance at the party, not publicly stamp her as his. His body touched hers in a long line as she was introduced to Emma. She smiled to see Ty standing in an identical position behind the curvy blonde woman, and looking like there was nowhere else he would prefer to be. Emma’s sister was a stark contrast. She was tall, lean, and strong, with flaming red hair. She looked a couple of years younger than Emma, but they were both quick to laugh and both looked like they would be quick to anger. Bailey held her present out gingerly, hoping it would be well received. Casey gave her the obligatory “oh you shouldn’t have” and unveiled the gift. Absolute silence reigned for five full seconds. “Oh, yes you should have!” A wide grin split Casey’s face, turning her from handsome to stunningly beautiful. “This is absolutely perfect, Bailey. I can’t wait to stomp my muddy work boots all over this.” Apparently Casey had cause to be bitter with the male population, too.

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“Shoo, Ty! Take Bailey’s attachment with you, too. It’s girl time. Go and do the caveman routine around the grill or something. And find Colby, he’s got to be hiding somewhere.” Emma dismissed the men from the kitchen. Jory gave Bailey a “what am I supposed to do” look and followed Ty’s bulk out the door. “Thank God! We can finally breathe in here. Ty’s hovering like an anxious old woman. Too many of them in one room make me feel short.” Bailey could understand her complaint. “Fruit punch, ladies?” Emma lifted a bowl from the fridge. “Don’t worry. There’s enough vodka in here to bring a Russian to his knees.” “I’ll be in that! What does it do for stubborn-ass deputies who wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit them on the butt?” “Marley!” Bailey embraced her longtime friend as she came through the door. “What’s Andy done now?” “Can you believe he pulled me over and gave me a speeding ticket on the way here? I couldn’t have been going more than five miles over the limit.” “Ouch! That is nasty.” “I’m glad you’re back, Bailey. You know what it’s like to want something you can’t have.” Bailey knew she blushed as she looked down guiltily. “Oh, you haven’t. You didn’t.” “I did.” “Oh, that’s so wrong. I bet it was so good.” Casey put her hands over her ears and started to hum, loudly. Emma smiled. “Sorry, girls. Casey is having a little trouble adjusting to the openness about relationships in this town.” “There is such thing as too much sharing, Em. I sure as hell don’t need to know what you do with those three studs that puts such a big smile on your face, that is for sure and certain.” Casey was adamant. “Now dish some of that punch out before I do something drastic, like drive the Bobcat straight through the house next door.”

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Bailey was curious. Most women fell over themselves trying to impress the Marshalls. You usually had to know them really well to have such a high level of animosity. “What have Luke and Brody done now?” She didn’t catch the frantic cut-off signs Emma was making behind her sister’s back until it was too late. “Arrogant, conceited assholes. They shouldn’t be allowed to look at a blow-up doll, let alone talk to a woman. They think they’re god’s gift…” “Here, drink this and shut up.” Emma rudely interrupted her sister’s rant, shoving a large glass of punch in her hand. “Everyone do me a favor. Don’t mention the neighbors again or I will lock you in a room with her and you will have to listen to the complete threefuckin’-hour-long, unabridged version of the whole sorry saga. Do we understand?” Both Bailey and Marley smiled at the drill sergeant voice coming from the distinctly feminine blonde. “Good. Now let’s fill up those glasses and see if Colby has managed to set the grill on fire yet.” Bailey lifted her glass in salute and followed her outside. Boy, Emma was woman enough and more to handle the Whelans. She felt the touch of Jory’s gaze the moment she stepped out onto the large deck. He was standing next to Ty, who was just the person she wanted to see. She walked straight up to them, and was surprised when Jory’s arm curled possessively around her waist. Ty didn’t say anything, but she did see his lips quirk. “Congratulations, big guy.” She ignored Jory’s disapproving tug at her waist and gave Ty a hug. “I’m glad you found someone to keep you all happy. Emma is a special lady.” “And nearly as jealous as the man shooting daggers at me right now,” Ty whispered in her ear, the grin plain to hear. “I’m happy for you, kiddo. Give him hell.” “I will.” She smiled and stepped back into Jory’s space, feeling his arm wrap her once more. “Where’s Zach?” Jory groaned. “Feeling the need to molest more men, are you?”

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Ty smiled but ignored the remark. “Down in the shed measuring something up with Pete. They should be back directly.” “That’s two she is going to jump all over.” Jory groaned some more. Bailey poked him in his flat stomach. “I won’t jump on Zach. He only gets a friendly hug. But Pete is a different story. Him I am gonna jump on.” Jory only rolled his eyes. Bailey didn’t care. Pete Walker was the one who had taught her to weld and work steel. It was thanks to his laid-back teaching of a bored teenage girl that she was able to support herself now. “Brace yourself, old man.” Ty’s muttered warning hardly reached her ears as she leapt at the silver-haired man that walked around the corner. “Bailey, darlin’! You look pretty as a picture. What’s put that glow in your cheeks, girl?” Pete’s arms were around her waist as he spun her around the same way he had done ever since she could remember. She saw him glance over at Ty and Jory. “He finally gave in, did he?” His smile said he fully approved. “I knew you would wear him down someday, darlin’. Good things come to those who wait.” “I got sick of waiting.” “That’s the girl.” He lowered her to the ground, a smile crinkling his face into a gorgeous Sam Elliot lookalike. “God, I love it. All these young bucks get so touchy about an old man like me giving their woman a hug. It makes me feel young again.” “Hey, brat.” Zach kissed her temple on the way past, deliberately looking at Jory as he did. “Doesn’t he get jealous? Oh, shit! Colby, don’t let her cook.” Zach went to save the steaks from Emma. “Finished making a spectacle of yourself?” Jory asked, pulling her close. She could hear the amusement behind the words. “I think I’m all done, but you doing this is making a bigger one.”

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“Really? How about this then?” He lowered his head and kissed her thoroughly. He didn’t lift his head until her knees threatened to buckle. The smile told her he had achieved his desire, to show her just who she belonged to. “Lord Almighty, Jory Raines! Leave that girl alone.” Beth came barreling over like a steamroller. “Bailey, it is so good to see you home.” Bailey returned the older woman’s embrace. She didn’t know any other woman whose hugs felt like home. Her own mother felt like a stranger to her, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten anything more than a perfunctory air-kiss from Grace. For the first time in forever, Bailey felt comfortable. These were her people. The people she had grown up around and the people who now loved them. Everyone fitted. There was no judgment or censure. The meal was a relaxed affair. Delicious steaks were plated up and there were self-serve salads from the buffet-style bar. There was plenty of laughter to go with the great food and better company. Latecomers turned up and welcomed Casey to the town, and eventually made their way over to welcome back the “brat.” Bailey had forgotten how many others called her by Jory’s pet name, but she ended up with more hugs and pecks on the cheek than she had ever had in her life. Every male acquaintance was looking to rattle the unshakable Jory Raines’s tree. He was standing with his arms crossed, his beer forgotten, held negligently by a finger around the bottleneck. “I’m sorry, grump. The novelty will wear off soon.” Bailey wound her arms around his neck and tugged him down within reach. She nipped at his bottom lip, smiling at his attempt at his habitual stony countenance. “They would leave me alone if you didn’t start growling like a junkyard dog every time someone comes near me.” “Growling, huh?” “Yep.” She noticed he didn’t dissuade her when her tongue darted out and licked along his lip. “They wouldn’t be game to touch you if you were wearing my collar.”

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Heat flared deep within as the possessive tone wrapped around her senses. “Maybe we should go home and put it on.” “Not tonight, brat. I’ve had a couple of beers, and that stuff you’re drinking smells like rocket fuel. Alcohol and play don’t mix.” “Not even a little bit?” Bailey stuck her bottom lip out in a perfect pout. “Not at all.” Jory lowered his head until his lips skated along the shell of her ear. “Of course that doesn’t mean I won’t be buried deep inside you the moment I get you home.” Bailey clutched at his neck as her knees buckled, grateful for the arm he slid around her. “It’s not fair. Don’t say things like that in public. I’ll end up with a wet patch on my shorts.” “Easier to hide than this.” He butted his erection against her stomach. “Oh, don’t do that, I will melt.” Bailey glanced around, finding them the subject of some very amused and indulgent grins. “Everyone is looking, Jory. I don’t mind. Hell, I’d announce it on national television. I want to hang a banner over the main street telling everybody that I’m sleeping with Jory Raines, but I expected you to want to keep it quiet. It hasn’t even been a week.” “It’s been long enough that I know what I want, and giving you up ain’t it. I’ve never felt possessive in my life, but every time someone comes near you I want to pull you away.” He took a ragged breath. “Until I can control myself around you, Bailey, you shouldn’t trust me, because I don’t. This loss of control scares the hell out of me. It should scare you, too.” “Yeah, well, it doesn’t, Mr. Control Freak. Take me home and let me show you just how much you don’t scare me.” Bailey found herself bundled through the chattering crowd. Their rushed exit earned quite a few amused looks and several whistles. ****

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Jory drove home a little too fast. The silence was as thick as the lust in the Jeep. His grip on the steering wheel was all that was holding him together. Did the little brat have any idea of the monster she poked? He wished to hell she hadn’t had anything to drink. He would take her straight downstairs and show her exactly why he needed to have his control. Hell, she already knew some of the damage that could be inflicted firsthand. He knew damn well he would never do any of that, but Bailey didn’t. He didn’t deserve her blind trust. If he couldn’t control his jealousy, how could he control himself enough when she was bound and at his mercy? He pulled up in front of the house with a screech of brakes. He wasted no time in going around to Bailey’s side and all but ripping her from the vehicle. The evening chill had set in, and he didn’t stop until he had her inside in the comfortable warmth of the cabin. If his stony demeanor and harsh handling worried her, it did not show on her breathless face. She glowed. Indigo eyes fairly blazed with anticipation. The little vixen had no idea at the fragile condition of his self-control. “Strip.” His voice brooked no nonsense, harsh even to his own ears. He watched as Bailey shimmied out of her cutoffs. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he realized she wore no panties. The fiery-hued top fell by the wayside, and she contorted her arms and unclasped the smooth T-shirt bra she wore. Her eyes shone with mocking challenge as she held it by one end at full arm’s reach and purposely dropped it on the ground. She was fucking gorgeous. Lean and toned, but with womanly bounty in all the right places. Full breasts with big dusky tips, rock hard and straining toward him. Her hips arced gracefully from the dip of her waist. Soft curves with enough flesh to squeeze. Her little belly pouted slightly, with a freckle just below her navel he ached to bite.

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He took a deep breath. He wasn’t a biter. Bailey’s undisciplined, hedonistic urges were starting to rub off on him. He reached out and pinched a nipple. She gasped and her head went back, but she didn’t pull away. “Are these mine, Bailey? Mine to do what I wish with?” “All yours,” she gasped. He squeezed a little harder. “What if I want to put clamps on them? Want to make them burn while you dance under the pain?” “God, yes!” Her carnal inflections spurred him on. She needed to learn, needed to know she shouldn’t trust him. “What else belongs to me, Bailey? What else is mine?” Fire blazed from her eyes as she stepped closer. “Everything, Jory, I’m all yours.” “Everything? Show me, Bailey. Let me see everything that’s mine.” His cock pounded behind its denim cage when she turned and presented, bending at the waist with her legs spread and her hands on the arm of the couch. He could see all of her. From the clit peaking out of its little hood to the dusky pucker of her anus—it was all there for him to see. He touched his fingertip to her exposed pink clit, ignoring her low moan. “Is this mine, Bailey? Mine to play with or ignore as I wish?” “Yes, Jory,” she panted, her cream spilling to his finger. He ran it back and circled her vaginal entrance, flushed and swollen with desire. “What about this? Is this tight, wet cunt mine?” He saw her flinch at his harsh language, but the flood soaking his finger told him it had struck a chord within her. “It’s all yours.” She gasped as he slid his finger into her tight and wet tunnel. Jory could feel her inner muscles strive to pull him in. He wrenched his finger from her grip, leaving her clenching hopelessly on nothing. Her breath caught sweetly when he touched her asshole with the tip of his finger, caught and held before exploding from her lungs as he moved it in an insidious caress. “What about your ass, Bailey? Is it

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mine to fill anytime I want?” He waited for her to pull away as he spread her cream over her forbidden entrance, to put an end to his possession. He knew he pushed her too far. Her aversion to anal play would have been irrevocably strengthened by her ordeal in the club attack. “It’s yours, too, Jory.” He nearly passed out as all his blood tried to rush to his cock at once. She sounded scared, but she was trying to brazen it out. He wanted her to fold, to cry off and admit he was asking too much. He jerked his jeans undone, letting his heavy shaft spring free. He gripped it just below the wide head and touched its heat to her star, pressing hard enough to intimidate her. “That’s my cock, Bailey. Long and thick and harder than hell. Are you saying I can shove it up there anytime I want?” He pushed a little harder, trying to use a bite of pain to make her capitulate. His knees went weak as he saw a rim of pink emerge, and felt the hot caress of her forbidden hole kiss at the tip of his cock. “Please, Jory, I’m yours. Just take me.” He fought free of the erotic haze her words inspired and jerked away from her willing but not readied ass. He plunged to the hilt in the hot, wet clasp of her pussy. His groan of surrender echoed in the cavernous room. She backed up to him for more, taking every punishing thrust and looking for more. Selfishly, he rode her using a rough grip on her hips to make her take every last inch. Her cries rose, demands lacing them as she came closer and closer to climax. He pushed her down further, until she was nearly bent in half, and kicked her legs wider. Each hard thrust sent his balls swinging to slap audibly against the slick bud of her clit. “Oh, Jory, let me come, I can’t wait.” He licked his thumb and placed it on top of the orifice he had only refrained from plundering by the thinnest fibers of control. “Come for

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me, Bailey.” His digit slid inside her as the demand spilled from his lips. She wailed and bucked against him in climax. The pressure threatened to pop the top of his thumb clean off as she clenched down upon him. His balls contracted frantically, and the tremors overtook him. His seed hurtled from his body to bathe her womb with its heat. Jory clutched at her hard as he strove to stay on his feet. His overburdened knees threatened collapse as the jerks and jolts of pleasure continued. He wrapped his arms around Bailey when the tremors died down and pulled her upright. His cock slid from her body reluctantly as he straightened his knees and their height difference asserted itself. He lowered his head and laid a breathless kiss on her shoulder. “You’ll be the death of me, baby girl. You have no sense of self-preservation whatsoever.” “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.” Her purring kitten voice wrapped around him as he sunk down on the couch with her held securely in his arms, soft and sweet against him. Her blind trust rocked him to the core. He held her tight and watched her fall asleep, more conflicted than ever. He hadn’t taught her a goddamn thing.

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Chapter 5 “Time to get up, brat.” Bailey didn’t want to move. She was snug on the sofa, wrapped in a quilt, and it was too damn bright on the other side of her eyelids. She managed a groan as she snuggled deeper, but Jory wasn’t that easily placated. “I’ve got plenty of ice in the freezer, Bailey. You can do this the easy way or the hard way.” She swung her feet over the edge but couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. She wasn’t hungover, just feeling the tiniest bit delicate this morning. The smell of coffee reached her nose as she heard bare feet padding across the floor. “I told you that stuff you were drinking was rocket fuel.” She cracked one eyelid. It actually wasn’t as bad as she thought. Jory had a look of amused indulgence as he stood wafting the cup beneath her nose. “It’s Sunday. What’s the idea of getting me up early?” She took the cup and held it with both hands. Jory’s hand pulled the quilt back up when it slid down to reveal that she was still butt-naked. “I thought I’d help you set up the workshop so you can keep yourself out of trouble while I’m at work. Pete called this morning and offered to bring over some old equipment for you.” Bailey felt the caffeine seep through her system and felt better immediately. She also had a dull ache deep inside her that proved last night hadn’t been just a wet dream, and a fucking good one at that. She leaned back, savoring the ache and feeling her libido stir.

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A lazy smile touched her lips as she looked up at Jory. He looked damn good this morning. His faded jeans and cotton shirt looked like they had seen one washing too many and clung faithfully to his rangy frame. His raven hair, still damp from his shower, gave a powerful contrast to his icy, Nordic blue eyes. It was a stunning combination. One that had made her wet since she was old enough to realize what the heavy heat that built in her every time she looked at him was. Lust, pure and simple. He grinned at her and stepped away. “No way, brat. I know that look. You get your act together and I’ll see you outside. If you’re not out by the time Pete gets here, I’ll be back with the ice, and you won’t like where I’ll put it.” His grin made Bailey rub her legs together beneath the quilt, but he made a hasty getaway. She took a deep breath and drank her coffee instead of doing her body’s bidding and molesting the man. It should be illegal to look as good as he did. She waited until she could see him through the big picture window and made sure he was watching before she rose from the couch and stretched thoroughly before turning and walking unashamedly naked to the downstairs bath. After a shower and some cereal, she was feeling much brighter. There was a stiff breeze blowing down out of the Bighorn Mountains with the unseasonal smell of snow on it. She threw a heavy jacket on before heading outside. It was hard to believe that only yesterday she had been swimming in the river. She shuddered at the mere contemplation of it today. Jory was helping Pete unload gas bottles out of the back of his truck. Bailey restrained a grin. She had been stuck with a stick welder back in Denver. She hadn’t been able to afford any better, but the bottles of argon promised an upgrade. “Bailey girl, where do you want this set up?” Pete patted the MIG welder sitting on his tailgate.

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“You’re spoiling me, Pete.” She walked over to take a look at the machine. “Really spoiling me.” It was an older model but a quality brand. “It’s only sitting in my shed doin’ squat. You may as well get some use out of it.” The old rogue gave her one of his trademark grins, and she pressed a kiss to his weathered cheek. “You’re a darling, Pete. Don’t let anyone tell you different.” She noticed Jory shaking his head at her show of affection, so she wrinkled her nose at him and soundly ignored him. “Just there by the end of the bench will do. Thanks, Pete. There’s good light and most of my stuff is small, so I can clamp off on the bench.” The older man chuckled. “I had a look at that mat you did. That’s some fine work, Bailey. You’ve done me proud.” “You’re not surprised by my choice of subject?” “Jory told me you’re making a pretty penny out of the stuff you’re doin’. If you run out of ideas I’d be happy to model for you.” His grin said he was looking for a bite. Jory just shook his head once more and reached over and grabbed the MIG. “You going to grab the other end, old man, or stand there flapping your gums?” “Gets testy, don’t he?” “Yeah, he wakes up real snarly in the mornings.” Bailey ran her hand up the back of Jory’s thigh and squeezed his ass as he went past with his end of the welder. His scowl promised retribution, but his lips quirked with his effort not to smile. They set the welder up and reorganized the workspace. Jory didn’t spend much time in the workshop since he had finished the house, but his tools were in good order. Bailey looked over the selection. “The only thing I’m going to need is a four-inch grinder. The nine is good for cutting, but it’s too big for me to use for cleaning up.” “That’s the first time I heard a woman ask for four inches when there’s nine on offer.” Pete chuckled delightedly. “I’m sure I’ve got

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one in the shed somewhere. I’ll drop it off tomorrow. I should have a few grinding disks, too.” “Much appreciated, Pete. I’ll make you something real nice, I promise.” He would love the coat rack she had made a few months ago with a naked reclining woman worked into the top. It would only take her a day to make, and it was the least she could do when he was loaning her thousands of dollars worth of equipment. “I look forward to it, Bailey. If you’re chasing any old steel, I can probably put a load together for you. Ty would have some, and Jack said there’s a pile of old parts out behind the workshop you can pick over.” “You can tell Jack that Bailey is not going anywhere near that workshop without me.” Bailey could hear the possessive heat in Jory’s voice. “Don’t you trust me around Jack?” “Jack, yes. Danny is a different story.” “Danny is harmless.” Bailey defended Liberty Springs’ resident bad boy. Jory just wouldn’t accept Danny was a reformed man. “Yeah, and so is a grizzly.” “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to fight it out. My money’s on Bailey.” Pete slid into his old Chevy with a wink. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bailey girl.” Bailey kept her eyes on Jory as the truck bumped up the drive. “Did you miss breakfast or are you always this easy to rile in the mornings?” Jory put down the welding helmet he had been moving and pounced. Bailey couldn’t contain her squeal when he picked her up and put her on the bench, stepping between her spread thighs. “You are the only person who can rile me, brat. You just go out of your way to do it. Flashing me through the window? Grabbing my ass? Then you have the hide to stick up for Danny Blake? You are in so much trouble.”

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Bailey hooked her heels behind his legs and pulled him closer, her hands running up his chest to rest on his broad shoulders. She tilted her head and smiled at the feigned exasperation on his face. “Promises, promises. You’re all talk, Jory Raines.” He pulled her to him, and Bailey wrapped her legs around his waist. “Let’s get that collar on you and see how much talk you think I am then.” Bailey kissed at his neck as he strode toward the house. His big hands cupped her ass as he carried her. She nipped at his earlobe and reveled in his rough intake of breath. Mischief whispered through her, and she latched onto the skin below his ear, right on the corded muscle that ran up the side of his neck. She bit down and drew hard, sucking for all she was worth as he growled in protest. She pulled away and looked at her handiwork, delighted and satisfied beyond measure with the dirty, great hickey she left on him. “I can’t believe you just did that.” “Neither can I.” Jory pried her off him as he stepped through the door. He snatched up the strip of velvet from the side table and held it out. “Come here, brat.” Bailey couldn’t help but smile when she looked at his neck. “Yeah, you just keep smiling, baby.” He wrapped the velvet collar around her neck and tied it off. “I have finished playing nice.” He stripped off his jacket and threw it over the back of a chair before he tugged Bailey’s from her and sent it sailing to join his. Shivers went down her spine that had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with the look of passionate possession on Jory’s lean face. He plunked her unceremoniously on the polished timber slab that was his kitchen bench and pulled her boots off. She debated on locking her ankles to make it difficult, but she was too damn eager to see where this was going.

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She had thrilled at his mastery of her body last night. Felt the power of her femininity as he had trembled at her compliance with his demands. Delighted in the rough ascendancy of his hands, the explicit heated threats, and the scare tactics that hadn’t had a snowball’s chance in hell of working. She knew well and good that Jory Raines would never hurt her. Not even as much as she wanted him to. His glacial eyes held the heat of four suns as he stripped her down where she sat. She couldn’t hold back a small smile of pure satisfaction at the hunger that burned hotter when he saw she wasn’t wearing panties again. The bench was chilly against her butt, but she only had to bear it momentarily. The moment the last scrap of her clothing fell away, she was tossed over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. His big hand gripped her thigh securely as he turned and headed for the stairs. Bailey was too absorbed in the feel of his wide, cotton-covered shoulder under her hips and the sight of his denim-clad ass to notice anything out of the ordinary until a light came on and they were heading downstairs instead of up. She glanced around as much as her precarious perch would allow. The narrow-ass door tucked beside the stairs she had always assumed was a broom closet wasn’t. The stairs leading down were a match for the ones leading to the upper story— wide and sturdy with a polished rail. She went still, wondering where he was going. “Got you worried yet, brat?” Slightly, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. “You don’t scare me.” She kept her voice matter-of-fact, but the rather harsh slap he laid on her ass changed that. “Ouch! Fuck! What was that for?” “You don’t scare me…?” His voice rose expectantly as he flipped on some lights. “Sir.” “Mmm, that’s better.” Bailey was only getting disjointed glimpses of her surroundings as her back muscles protested the awkward angle required to view things

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in an upright perspective. Coupled with the burn seeping through to her pussy from her reddened ass as Jory rubbed it, she was finding it mighty hard to concentrate. She did see enough, however, to know Jory hadn’t been exaggerating about having a dungeon. Big iron rings embedded in stone walls. A St. Andrew’s cross. A spanking bench that afforded more positions than any she had seen. And in one darkened corner, wooden stocks. Her eyes locked and held on the sinister device as Jory dropped her to her feet. For the first time ever in Jory’s presence, a quiver of true terror ran through her. **** Jory saw her still, and cursed himself silently. He should have thought to pack the apparatus away. “Eyes on me,” he snapped, drawing her gaze away from the subject of her nightmares. Indigo eyes rested on his, searching, seeking. He held her gaze until she settled before reaching for the light switch. He turned on the direct lighting above the padded spanking bench and the cupboard nearby, and flipped off all others. Only a twilit dusk encompassed the remainder of the space. He ran his finger from the pulse fluttering at the notch between her collarbones down between her breasts and all the way to the soft curls regrowing on her mound. “These have got to go. When you go in to see Doc for your birth control shots tomorrow, go down to the spa and get rid of these, too. I want you to be able to feel every little move I make.” He flicked at her clit, noting with satisfaction the return of flushed arousal to her face. Bailey had been scared, real scared, but she had recovered. He walked over to the padded bench, running a finger along the faux-leather top to bring her attention to it. “Have you seen one of these, Bailey?” “Yes. Sir.” He could tell the sir was a late addition. “None as sophisticated as that, but I know what they’re for.”

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“Have you been put on one, Bailey? Secured so you couldn’t escape what was being done to you?” “I’ve been held down on one and lashed, but never restrained, sir.” “I think we’ll rectify that right now.” He noticed the sliver of fear that reentered her eyes. “Or are you going to throw that ‘red light’ at me, Bailey?” Jory deliberately made it sound like a challenge, pulling her in with a dare he knew she wouldn’t refuse. There was a real swing to her hips as she stalked over. A provocative roll that hardened him as fast as if she had run her hot breath over his balls. “No, sir. You’ll have to work harder if you want to hear that from me.” He smiled at her bravado, but he knew damn well that if he pointed her toward the stocks, she would fold. Last night that had been exactly what he was looking for, but today he found he wanted nothing more than to get her past the true terror he had glimpsed on her face. He tapped the section of the bench designed for kneeling on. “On your knees, wench.” The look she shot him as she complied told him just how much she liked his “master and commander” voice, as did the glistening petals that peaked out as she lifted her leg to step up. At the moment the leg rests were together, but it would only take the turn of a handle to have them sliding wide. He adjusted the height of the bench so that she would be slightly below the horizontal when he stretched her over it and brought the cross piece in a bit. He wanted to restrain her arms to get her used to it but not stretch her too much. “Lay down. Arms out to the side.” He watched as she adopted the required position. He ran his hand up the length of her spine, rubbed the back of her neck, and brought it back down. He smiled when she writhed beneath his comforting touch. Bailey soaked up the smallest touches. Ones calculated only to reassure her brought her pleasure. “You look good like this, Bailey. Damn good.”

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The wriggle as she settled herself deeper in to the plush padding was only for his benefit. He was glad she couldn’t see his indulgent smile as he slowly undid the Velcro straps that would bind her to the table. The sound had the desired effect. He watched a shiver chase along her spine. “I’m going to strap you to the table now, Bailey. Unless you want to quit?” “Do it.” He saw her ass lift a tiny bit and knew she had left off the “sir” deliberately, trying to get another whack on her ass. He didn’t disappoint her, making sure he caught the sweet spot where her thigh flowed into that lovely rounded ass. He normally wouldn’t stand for such blatant manipulation. But this was Bailey, and she was always going to try to top from the bottom. And that didn’t upset him half as much as he thought it would. It was downright refreshing, actually. He heard her suck in a big breath before “sir” came out in a husky whisper that went straight to his cock. The Velcro restraints wrapped around her ankle and just below her knee. He made sure they were nice and snug so they wouldn’t cut in when she started to fight. He leaned over her, allowing her to feel the steely erection pressing out the front of his jeans. The rough moan it drew from her throat was suitably gratifying. One thing that wasn’t in doubt was her hunger for him. Her self-control was. He bent one of her extended arms and strapped it to the cross member that bisected the table. He saw her hand clench and then relax into the padding. “Go on, Bailey, You won’t give in until you fight it a bit.” She had a few good wrenches against the restraint and then groaned as she accepted the captivity. He rewarded her with a gentle caress as he slid his hand up her other arm to complete her binding. He stood and looked at her body stretched out for his pleasure, completely helpless, the subject of his will. Her ribs expanded with each fast and shallow breath, and her thighs were squeezed tight. “How are you feeling, baby? Scared or horny?” “Both. So much of both, sir.”

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The “sir” brought a smile to his lips. It hadn’t sounded forced this time. He turned the handle that separated her legs and watched as they slowly parted. The sheen on her inner thighs betrayed her. “I think you’re a lot more horny than scared.” He moved over to the cabinet against the wall and opened it wide, knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist a peek. He hesitated over the whip section, letting her get a good look at what he had. The short leather flogger with the knots in the end was his choice, but he gave her time to fret before he picked it up. He also grabbed a small glass butt plug and a good-sized jelly vibrator. He put the vibrator on the bench right in front of her where she could see it with no hope of touching. A tease. “You only get that if you’re a really good girl, Bailey. And let’s face it—that ain’t likely, is it?” He trailed the flogger across her silken flank, watching her writhe. “I’ll be good, sir. I promise.” “Yeah, like I believe that, brat.” He brought the lashes down gently across her shoulders. Not a stinging lash, more of a heavy caress. Her soft moan encouraged him. “Do you like that, Bailey?” “God yes!” He laid a series of light taps right across her shoulders before moving lower. Not letting any two strokes land in the same spot, he gradually increased the weight behind each blow as she warmed up. By the time he reached her ass, she was arching into the blows, looking for more than he was giving. “Have you had this pussy slapped, Bailey?” He let her get away with shaking her head this time. Her moans indicated there wasn’t much in the way of coherent thought going on at the moment. “Well, I’m gonna, brat. Right after I slide this plug in your ass and watch you squirm.” He meant to shock her, to make her rise above the cloud of sensation she floated in, but she only moaned lower, out-and-out hungry sounding.

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The cream spilling from her pussy was thick and rich against her inner thighs. He picked up the glass plug and rolled it in the evidence of her arousal. He was ready for her to buck against the cold, but she didn’t even acknowledge it. He dropped the flogger and started using his hand, giving short, sharp slaps to the side of her buttocks and thighs while he lubed the plug with her own juices. When he lined the transparent plug up with her pucker, she didn’t flinch. He watched dumfounded as her body accepted the intrusion. Her moans attained a more desperate status, but that was all. It snugged into the crease of her ass as the internal muscles captured the tapered section. He flicked the base hard, sending a vibration through the glass. The groan that blistered the air sounded as if it had been wrenched from her soul. “Want more, Bailey? Want me to slap that clit? It’s gonna sting, baby.” Her only response was an effort to present more of her glistening folds to him. A tilting of her hips that could be nothing but a blatant invitation. The first one was light. He made sure his center two fingers caught the little bundle of nerves square on. “Again, again.” It was hardly even a whisper, but it reached Jory’s ears. He gave her three more in rapid succession and stopped. Her cries were damn near orgasmic. “Don’t stop, I was going to come.” The disappointment in her breathless words was plain to hear. “You don’t get one that easy. You don’t get one at all unless I say.” He slapped her folds sharply, a real stinger. She thrashed in the restraints as the sting reverberated around her oversensitive clit. “Oh, do something, Jory. It won’t stop. It won’t go away.” It would feel like an orgasm that just wouldn’t push from that wound-up tensioned pleasure into release. “Please.” The “please” struck a chord, but he didn’t want to push her over yet. He cupped her mound gently and held her until the storm settled a little. He could feel her fighting not to mash her clit against the purchase he gave her, panting in her efforts not to come. Bringing her back from the edge, he soothed her with his voice. Only when her

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breathing had deepened did he start once more. “I’m going to give you five, Bailey. If you take them, I’ll let you come. Can you do that?” “Yes, sir.” Jory smiled at her eager but breathy tone as he picked up the flogger. “They’re not going to be soft or easy, baby. You’re going to earn your orgasm today.” He stood beside her, his right hand holding the flogger along the line of her spine, teasing the skin of her lower back with the leather lashes. He brought it down so the stiff handle struck the base of the plug and the tassels wrapped beneath her to stripe her folds. The cry that sprang from her throat was neither scream nor moan, but a potent mixture of both. Before the echo of her cry died away, he gave her another, not stopping until all five promised lashes had been administered. Her inarticulate noises fed his cock and tugged at his heart. “Good girl, that was beautiful. Do you want me to make you come now?” “Please. Please.” The whispered plea had him reaching for the vibrator. He turned it on and ran it the length of her folds, from the curls at her mound to the glass plug that stretched her dark star. “Inside or outside, baby?” “Either. Both. I don’t care.” The desperate quality to her voice warmed his soul. She was primed and begging. He wanted nothing more than to thrust into her dripping-wet grip, but he held back. He had to assert his own control in order to manipulate her responses. She had to know his control was superior. Jory slipped the dildo into her sheath. The latex slid easily through her copious juices. Her cries lifted, becoming desperate. He rocked it deeper in and twisted so that the ridges would stimulate the plug buried in her ass. She rewarded him with a deep groan, and he watched her head drop to the bench, muscles going lax. “Do you like that, Bailey? Like when it pushes against the plug?” “Mmm.”

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He smiled at the deep purr and kept the pressure shifting against the hard object spreading her rear. She was falling into the pleasure, not entreating him to make her come but soaking up every nuance of his play. He carefully avoided her clit, making sure his fingers did not so much as brush it. The sweat dampening her hair was also beading across her back. He, too, was feeling the heat as he held back the urge to plunder the willing sacrifice stretched out before him. She wasn’t racing headlong for orgasm like she always did, and he wanted to reward her. He splayed his hand wide on her back and began to push it up and down her back in a carnal rhythm, encouraging her to move with the gentle shifting thrusts he gave with the latex phallus. She moved into his rhythm easily, following his lead in a slow dance of pleasure. She looked so damn hot with the reddened blush riding her silken skin, writhing wantonly at his direction. Wet and ready and more submissive than he had imagined Bailey Verne could ever look. He laid one finger on the bud of her clit and she came. Shattered. Let her pleasure spill from her mouth in one animalistic wail. He watched her back arch and stiffen. Her sphincter spasm with the desperate clench of orgasm. Felt her juices spill over his hand and her flesh jerk and twitch. Smelled the distinctive aroma of satisfied woman and listened to her cry die into a long, low moan. Jory leaned over her and pressed his chest to her back, his lips to her shoulder, giving her the contact she thrived on. She was addicted to touch, and he gave her all he could as she came back down from the high of delayed orgasm. His fingers made short work of releasing her from the bindings. He slid the vibrator from her wet grip. The butt plug presented more of a challenge. Sexual release had tightened her even further, and her body held it in a viselike grip. “Relax for me, baby. Let me get it out.” He heard her suck in a breath, and then the glass came free with a gentle tug. He reached out and grabbed a wet wipe from the pack in

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the cupboard and wiped her tenderly. She shifted a little but didn’t demur. When he was sure she was going to be comfortable, he lifted her from the table and into his arms. He sunk into a big old armchair tucked into the corner and held her tight. He didn’t object when she tugged up his shirt, just stripped it off and dropped it to the floor. Her purr as she snugged up chest-to-chest warmed him more than the full, soft breasts pressing into him. She clung to him as the sweat on their bodies cooled. Her fingers wound into the hair licking along his nape. A comforting caress he was unaccustomed to. “I’ll never get used to that.” Her murmur was warm against his neck. “What’s that, baby?” “That you can give me unbelievable pleasure and not chase your own gratification.” “For me it’s more about the journey than the destination. I can come any old time I want. My right hand can do a quicker job than any woman I have ever come across. Unlike some, I don’t need to make a production out of masturbation.” Her suppressed chuckle tickled against his neck. “For me it’s about you. Getting you to give up control and surrender your pleasure to me. Seeing you rise to meet the flat of my hand or the lash of the flogger. Knowing that every second I delay your orgasm it’s going to be stronger, that you are letting me give you more pleasure than you could ever reach on your own.” “Was I good this time?” He could hear the lack of confidence. She wasn’t fishing for compliments. “You were very good, baby. Better than I thought you could be. Are you sore?” “Just a little.” “Where?” “Between my legs.”

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“Specifics, Bailey. The time for shyness has long gone. Your ass, your pussy, your clit? Where?” “Along my lips and clit.” “Good girl. That wasn’t that hard, was it?” “I guess not.” He swiveled in the seat and slid Bailey into it as he rose. He grabbed a tube of soothing cream from the cabinet and returned to where she was ensconced in the big chair. He flicked on a lamp to better see. “Give me a look, baby girl.” She let him take one leg and expose her to his view. He knew there wouldn’t be any broken skin or even bruising, he was too careful for that, but she was red and no doubt sore. He applied the salve carefully, doing his best to keep the touch soothing and not provocative, but Bailey’s body just didn’t know when to quit. Her breathing quickened and she grew damp at the first touch. He glanced up to see hooded eyes watching him, hungry ones. He sighed in resignation even as his cock surged with renewed interest. “You are going to be the death of me, baby. What do you want?” “I want you, Jory. I want you to make love to me, deep and slow.” He couldn’t deny her. He shucked his boots and jeans beneath her watchful gaze and nudged her aside and took his seat back. She didn’t need any encouragement to straddle his thighs and line up his curved flesh with her tender folds. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and sank down. The rhythm was all hers, just as slow and deep as she wanted it. His hands rubbed over her fevered skin, letting her have her way with him. Slouching down further gave her access to his lips, and she partook the moment he was in reach. Deep, soulful kisses, as slow and sweet as their joining. Jory captured the gentle gasp as she came and let his own release roll through him. She held his gaze as they both soared. Intimate and devastating.

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Chapter 6 The man in the mirror shook his head. Jory couldn’t believe the brat had had the audacity to mark him. The hickey stood out like a flashing neon sign. No one was going to miss it. But he just couldn’t find it in him to be pissed. At least he was out in the park instead of on roster at the visitor center today. He’d get enough ribbing off the boys without being on general display. Bailey had looked too damn comfortable to wake this morning, all snuggled down in the nest she’d made of the blankets as soon as he had rose. She had smiled sleepily when he’d kissed her but only burrowed down further. He’d call her later and remind her about her doctor’s appointment and to call into Jodie’s spa and salon for a tidy up. He hadn’t had a chance to taste her yet, but he swore he wouldn’t let her rush him anymore. The thought of her plump, smooth folds without a speck of hair on them made his mouth water and his dick twitch. He shook his head to clear it and headed outside. The drive into the forestry headquarters was rife with wildlife. He needed his wits about him to avoid Bambi, and any thoughts of Bailey naked and spread under his tongue were not conducive to good driving. Department Head Scott had been the only one to comment on the neck embellishment, but the men in his own crew had been all smirks and grins. It was no small relief when someone called in a tree down across one of the trails. He went himself rather than sending out one of the maintenance guys. He was surprised when Andy found him just after lunch. He knew nothing was wrong with Bailey. The little hoyden had called to taunt him about her new look only a few minutes before.

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“Hey, Andy.” He greeted Liberty’s deputy as he stepped out of the four-by-four. “Jory.” The grave expression on his scarred face tightened Jory’s gut. “What is it?” “It’s your dad. He came off second best in a tussle with a tree. I’m really sorry, Jory, he didn’t make it.” Jory shut his eyes briefly. The old man should have retired years ago. He had never understood why he pushed himself so hard. A man his age had no business felling logs on the slopes of the Bighorns. Just one more thing they had never seen eye to eye about. “Bound to happen. I’m just surprised it took this long.” Jory knew he sounded callous, but he had been waiting for news like this since Grant had refused to retire. “What have I got to do?” “There is no need for an autopsy or investigation. The logging company will cough up the usual compo payout, so it is just the funeral to arrange. If I can help with anything, just let me know, Jory.” “Can you let Pete know? He and the old man were pretty close. I’d like him to find out before the rumors start doing the rounds.” “I’ll do that. What are you going to do?” “Head home and call the funeral directors and then lay my head in a soft place for a while.” Andy’s smile was touched with wistfulness. “That’s as good a plan as any, better than a bottle of whiskey. Call me if you need anything.” Jory watched him turn on the narrow service trail and drive away. He sat on the tailgate of the forestry truck and gathered himself. He wasn’t emotional, just empty feeling. He and his father had never been close. When his mother had passed from cancer in his late teens, it had done nothing to bring them closer. But Grant Raines had been his father. Jory felt a real need for that soft place he’d been talking about.

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He radioed through to the main office and said he was heading home. Scott sounded like he had been expecting the transmission when he told him to take the work truck rather than come back to base for his own vehicle. Jory didn’t question it, just headed for home. Bailey already knew. He let himself inside, and she walked straight up and wrapped her arms around him. Jory sunk into a kitchen chair and just held her, folded his arms around her waist and laid his cheek on her breasts. Her arms cradled his head and her fingers stroked gently through his hair. She didn’t say a word, just held him as if she were trying to absorb his pain, offering comfort and strength and the universal message of a loving woman—in her arms he didn’t have to prove a damn thing. He wished he had tears to spill, but they just weren’t there. The dampness of the cheek pressed to the top of his head told him Bailey was crying them for him. Not for his father. Bailey hadn’t known Grant well, nor particularly liked what she did know. He knew her tears were for his loss, for the pain he couldn’t feel. He didn’t know how long he sat there while Bailey held him— time had lost all meaning—but eventually he pulled back, looking up at her. Her tears had dried, but her indigo eyes held sorrow. “How did you find out?” “Pete was here dropping off some tools and steel when Andy called him. He didn’t want me to be wondering what was happening when you got home.” “I’m glad you were here.” He ran his hands up and down her back, drawing comfort from the feel of her pliant curves. “Much better than a bottle of whiskey.” He gently set her aside and stood up. “I’ve got to make some funeral arrangements and call his attorney. Can you run me a bath? I feel like soaking for a while.” Jory called the funeral home and notified the lawyer in town of his father’s passing. The quicker everything was settled, the quicker everyone could get on with living. By the time he had finished with his calls, Bailey had run a tub of steaming water and poured a

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generous measure of whiskey in a glass. He stripped and slid into the hot water. Bailey pulled up a footstool and sat at his back, leaning over the edge of the old claw-foot tub with her arm draped across his chest. He swirled and sipped the liquor, welcoming the burn. “The phone is going to start ringing soon.” Bailey’s voice was quiet, her breath warm on his shoulder. “Not tonight it won’t. I left it off the hook.” “People mean well, Jory. They just want to know if they can do anything for you.” “I know, but I just want a little peace and quiet at the moment.” He felt Bailey stiffen and go to withdraw her arm. He swiftly took hold of her hand, anchoring it where it was. “Not you, baby. I want you right where you are. I have never had anyone to lean on before. I mean, in this place there’s always someone there if you need a hand, but I have never had anybody to simply be there. I’d watch men go home to their wives or girlfriends after a shitty day instead of to the bar and think they were pussy whipped”—Jory sipped the amber liquid, trying to find the words—“but coming home to you today showed me just what I’ve been missing. I’m glad you’re here, Bailey. I’m sorry it has taken so long for me to give in. If I knew just how right it feels to come home to you, I would never have turned you away all those years ago.” The soft press of lips to his shoulder closed his eyes. He felt Bailey take a deep breath before she spoke. “No regrets, Jory. You were right. I was a kid. I needed to get out and live. I’ve got a beautiful little boy, and I know who I am now and what I want. My life hasn’t been easy, and the rough stuff isn’t over yet, but whatever it brings now, I know I’ve got you. “Did you think it only cut one way, that you were the big tough man that had to be there for the little woman?” Jory smiled ruefully. “That’s the way I was raised.”

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“I wasn’t. I grew up without a dad, but I had Pete and I had you. And you both taught me that things cut both ways. If I wanted respect, I had to give it. If I wanted a friend, I had to be one.” “And the only thing I thought you learned from us was how to wrap us around your little finger.” “That cut both ways, too. I was only a brat because you indulged it.” “And now?” “Now I do it because you wouldn’t know what to do with me if I acted any other way. Would you like it if I suddenly became missgoody-two-shoes, jumping to your every wish?” Jory chuckled. Like that was ever going to happen. “Sometimes I could hope.” “Hope is a virtue.” “Just in vain, huh?” “I knew you’d understand.” Her lips caressed his shoulder as she stood. “I’m going to put some dinner on.” Jory sat there for a while, lost in thought. Bailey was the best thing that had ever happened to him. There had been plenty of times over the years he’d wished she had picked Ty to go to. He’d been standing right there beside him at the fair when Grace Verne’s pigtailed little girl had come over with blood running down her shin and tears in those big blue eyes. But she had chosen him. Fate was a fickle bitch. It had just taken so damn long for the fifteen years between them to mean nothing. He felt like a monster when he thought that the little girl he’d picked up, bandaged, and returned to her mother twenty-five years ago was the same person as the woman he’d tied up and flogged last night. The same one he’d been sleeping with for the last five days. Five days. He couldn’t believe it was only that short of a time. Bailey felt like a part of him, vital and necessary to his very existence. She showed him just how empty his life had been without her. He’d move heaven and earth to keep her with him now.

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He tossed back the rest of the whiskey and rose from the bath. As he dried himself he noticed a pack of tampons on the bench. He smiled as he put them in the drawer. That must be Bailey’s subtle way of letting him know it was that time of the month. He wasn’t feeling that way inclined at the moment anyway, but it was a hell of a shame to waste a wax job. **** Bailey stood at Jory’s side for the simple graveside service, her hand meshed with his. The whole town had turned out to say goodbye to Grant Raines. Bailey knew most of them were here for Jory. A small cluster from the logging company Grant had worked for were the only people Bailey didn’t know on sight. Andy, the Whelans, Beth, Ron, and Joe made up the front row. Behind them the Keenans, Danny Blake and Jack Taylor from the garage, Aiden, the Marshalls, and then she nearly fell over as she spotted Connie Jamieson with her ten-year-old son standing tall and straight beside her. The last time Bailey had seen Connie had been across another grave. They had laid Connie’s husband Jake to rest in a spot not twenty yards away. That had been four years ago. Bailey remembered travelling through driving snow to make the funeral and heading straight back to Denver afterward. Nathan had only just been weaned, and she hadn’t liked being away from him. She had never seen a love like that of the Jamiesons. Jake had returned out of the blue with a young bride from Montana and taken her to his beef cattle spread up in the hills. Connie had devoted her life to the man with the same absolute certainty that had gripped Jake the first time he had laid eyes on Connie. She wondered how Connie had found the will to go on after losing him, but looking at the replica of Jake standing beside Connie now, Bailey could understand. The closing of the service brought Bailey’s attention back to Jory. She stood at his side as he thanked the preacher and the people filed

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past to give their condolences. Most would head for the bar and raise a glass or two to Grant Raines. Others had to return to work. Jory had an appointment with his father’s lawyer. Bailey stopped outside the door, beside the lawyer’s shingle. “It’s your business, Jory. I can wait down at the diner.” “I want you to come.” His pale blue eyes held the plea that wasn’t in his simple words. Bailey couldn’t refuse. “Okay.” She walked in through the door he held open. Hector Prior hadn’t beaten them back to the office by much. His rotund face was still florid from the two-hundred-yard hike. He waved them through to the inner office. He didn’t have a receptionist. His wife sometimes came in to help in that capacity, but she wasn’t in today. “Jory, welcome. Take a seat. Bailey.” His nod was suitably somber. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He sat himself behind the desk with the huffing and puffing of a man with high blood pressure, sixty extra pounds, and a wary tightness around the eyes that made Bailey hold Jory’s hand a little firmer. “Your father’s will was very straightforward and worded in such a way that there can be no contesting. His possessions, including the house and land and vehicles registered in his name, are bequeathed to one Dale McCabe. All personal effects are yours to, and I quote, ‘keep, burn or give away, I won’t give a shit’.” Bailey felt Jory freeze. “Dale McCabe? I have never even heard Dad mention him.” The way Hector blew the air out of his lungs had Bailey bracing once more. He reached into a manila folder and pulled out an envelope. “Grant didn’t want me to explain it. He just asked me to give you this. That’s it, Jory. I’d like your keys by the end of the week if it is not too much trouble.”

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Bailey rose beside Jory and followed him from the room. The way Hector was tugging at his collar made Bailey think Jory had taken it better than the red-faced man had expected. In the Jeep, Jory opened the envelope and withdrew a handwritten letter. Bailey watched his face. She saw surprise and pain, but only brief flashes. His poker face wasn’t quite so perfect now that she had spent so much time with him, or maybe he let his guard down around her now. She saw his eyes return to the top and reread the entire page. He passed it to her and started the vehicle. “Jory, this is personal,” she protested. “Read it.” It wasn’t his “master and commander” voice, but it was damn close, only bleaker. She let her eyes go to the sheet. Jory, If you’re reading this, son, the mountain finally got me or I was unlucky enough to turn my toes up in bed. By now old Hector would have told you what’s what. Bet that put a burr under his saddle. He thought you would rant and rave, but I know the man you are, and that ain’t your way. You grew into a man I am proud to call son. I can’t take any responsibility for that, it was your mother’s doing, but I can say your Ma would be proud, too. But some things a man has to take responsibility for, and I am doing it the only way left to me. I met a woman when I went to Washington when I got that first lot of long service leave. Rose was the first and only woman I so much as looked at after your Ma died. She wouldn’t leave the city and move back here with me so I left. I tried to track her down after I came back. Took me years. I hired a PI in Washington, found out I had a little girl. Rose wouldn’t have anything to do with me. Wouldn’t let me have anything to do with little Dale. Ain’t that a funny name for a girl? Anyhow, Rose wouldn’t even take money to help bring her up. I put every cent that was

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rightfully theirs into an account. They are the reason I have kept working instead of taking retirement. I kept tabs on them and found out Rose died when Dale was nineteen. Both of my children lost their mothers at the same age, talk about a cruel coincidence. I don’t know what kind of poison Rose filled Dale with, but she wouldn’t accept me or my money either. So I am leaving her that damn house so she will know that I did care and I am the kind of man that takes care of what is his. You don’t need my house or my money, son. I am real proud of what you have made of yourself, Jory. I just hope you find the special woman who makes it all worthwhile, because living alone in that big place you built ain’t really living. Go down to Denver and haul that little wildcat home that used to follow you around. She’s the only thing I ever saw that made you smile. And if you do meet your sister, and she is ready to listen, can you tell her my side of the story? Your proud father, Grant. Bailey blinked back tears. The taciturn old man had deserved more of her respect than she had ever shown him. She wasn’t surprised when Jory drove straight through town and home. She needed time to digest things—she could only imagine what Jory was thinking. “Was I the only one who didn’t see that you were the one for me?” That wasn’t what she had expected to hear first. “Apparently so.” “Why did he have to do this, Bailey? I could have gone on quite happily thinking he was a cranky old fool who didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. Turns out the old bastard had a heart after all.” “What are you going to do about Dale?”

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“What is there to do? Hector gets in contact with her, and it’s in her court from there. If she comes here, I’ll deal with it then. If she just sells the joint, I won’t have to. I’m not going to chase her. It sounds like Dad did enough of that.” “It’s kind of scary thinking that there’s a girl version of you running around out there somewhere. She probably dresses in black and carries a whip.” Bailey was relieved to see him truly smile for the first time in days. “Grant was right, you know. You are the only thing that puts a smile on my face. I didn’t realize how much of a grumpy bastard I was until you came back.” “Yeah, well, you’re my grumpy bastard now.” Bailey leaned over and kissed him as he pulled up in front of the cabin. “Come on, brat. Let’s get inside. I feel a need for some of that life-affirming, after-funeral sex people talk about.” Bailey raced him to the bed.

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Chapter 7 “Nathan is a great kid. You should be proud of him.” Bailey turned to where Jory stood at the window, looking out over Denver from their hotel room. “I am. It’s a shame he looks so much like Mark.” “I saw plenty of you in him, brat. He’s got your eyes and the same mischievous little grin you still get.” “I was pretty proud of the stunt with the beetle. You wouldn’t think the little shit knew just how scared of bugs that woman was.” Michele, Mark’s new wife, had supervised the visit, which they’d had at a park. Nathan had whispered a “watch this” to Bailey when they’d found the poor hapless creature climbing up a tree, before running up to the woman with a “look what I found, ’Chele.” The woman had damn near had a heart attack, screeching loud enough to startle the birds from the trees. Nathan had stood there with innocence painted all over his little face and watched her reaction with glee. Jory laughed. “I don’t think that one will be around long if Nathan has anything to do with it.” Bailey glanced at the clock, which only showed half of seven. “What time are we heading out?” “Not until nine. Even that’s early. These places don’t start hopping until midnight. Are you getting nervous?” Bailey could see the concern in his eyes. “We don’t have to do this.” “I know, but if it is the only way to see you in those leather pants I saw in your bag, I’m in.” A wicked smile graced his lips. “Not until after dinner. Do you want to eat out or in?”

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“I don’t want to eat at all with what I’m wearing tonight.” “I saw that little scrap of Lycra. Is that supposed to be a dress?” “It is, and it is completely unforgiving of large meals. I’d prefer to wait until we get back.” “I’ve got other plans for when we get back.” Bailey smiled at the heat in his gaze. “You’ll just have to feed me first.” “Why don’t you start getting ready? I’ll still have enough time to eat and be dressed and ready before you’re ready to go.” “It doesn’t take me that long. Well, not quite anyway,” Bailey amended at the look of disbelief Jory shot her. “Okay, okay! I’m going.” Jory was right. He had eaten and was already dressed and waiting when she put the last lick of mascara on and gave a final adjustment to her dress. The stretchy white fabric had grand delusions of aspiring to be a dress, anyway. From the front and back it was quite decent. White and formfitting, it wasn’t too low in the neck or too high in the thigh-hugging skirt. But the front and back panels were only joined by thin laces every so often that spanned the four-inch gap between the two halves. Underwear wasn’t an option. She was glad for every hour she had found to bask in the sun by the river. The flesh visible down her sides was lightly tanned with the contrast of the snowy fabric. The stretchy bodice was tight enough to give her breasts a bit of a flattering boost, but perkiness was never a problem with Jory about. The damn things sat up and begged whenever he was near. She grabbed a long-line leather coat from the bedroom and went to find Jory. And those leather pants she had yet to see. He was getting a drink from the minibar when she walked in, and her jaw damn near hit the ground. The man was fucking magnificent. The buttery soft leather of his pants cupped his mouthwatering ass like a loving hand. Fine black cotton draped the width of his broad shoulders and enhanced the long line of his back. The shirt was of a

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shorter length and tapered, not to be tucked in, but sat at a flattering hip height and didn’t hide his ass. The black boots beneath his pants were made for sin. The look on his face when she reached it was gratifying, damn gratifying. He looked as pole-axed as she felt. “Christ, I can’t take you anywhere looking like that! You’re going to cause a riot.” “I’m not the only one. I want you to stop at the park on the way. I’m going to need a really big stick to keep all the skank-hoes away from you. No one gets to touch you, Jory, no one.” “Possessive, aren’t we?” “Don’t you forget it. Turn around.” A growl rumbled in her throat as he put his hands out to the side and did a slow pirouette. He didn’t look a day over thirty until you looked at his eyes. There was no way a thirty-year-old could have all the wicked knowledge the pale blues shined with. “Two sticks. I’m gonna need one for each hand.” “Come here.” His beckoning finger felt like it was buried deep inside her as he encouraged her closer. Big hands came to rest on her sides, branding them both with the heat. “I’m all yours, baby. And I’m glad Beau finished my collar, because there is no way you are walking out that door without it.” He reached to the counter and picked up a box. A blue velvet jeweler’s box. Bailey’s heart pounded as he opened it. Antique silver and black onyx flanked the darkest blue sapphire she had ever seen. “Will you wear my collar, Bailey? Not just now, but always?” She hesitated, caught by the “always.” She loved Jory with all her soul, but she wouldn’t give up being her own person for anybody. She saw the flash of pain her indecision caused—an unperceivable tightening of his jaw. She laid her hands along the firm, tense, smooth-shaven line, wanting to take away his pain. “I love you, Jory. Never doubt that. You told me I had to behave a certain way when I’m wearing your collar, and I love our play time, but it would kill

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something in me to do that twenty-four-seven. I would lose a part of me.” “I’d lose a part of me, too, Bailey. I wouldn’t have you any other way than just how you are. We have gone beyond that stupid list I wrote. None of the rules apply anymore.” “None of them? That’s disappointing.” She dropped her hands to rest on the thick column of his neck. “I like your rules when it’s time to play.” She tugged insistently until he lowered his head. She kissed him gently, mindful of her makeup. “If it means I can still be me, Jory, I’d love to wear your collar.” “Like you would be anything else, brat.” He stamped her lips harder but briefly before lifting his head. Bailey watched the possession flare in his eyes as he put the bejeweled collar around her throat. Its weight was a reassuring reminder, not the confining constriction as she had envisioned. “You look beautiful, Bailey. And sexier than hell in that dress. I’m going to burn it when we get home, by the way.” “That’s okay. I look better in nothing.” Jory’s deep groan echoed though her. “Don’t say that. I was hoping to get out tonight. These pants can contain a hard-on, but a wet spot sticks out like a sore thumb. Nearly as obvious as your nipples.” He flicked his thumbs over them before pulling away. “Come on, there’s a cab waiting, and if I stand here a second longer you’re going to find out just how much of a convenience wearing no underwear is.” **** Shivers hadn’t changed much from when Jory had been there two years ago. What had changed was taking his own plaything. Bailey looked cute as hell at the end of the fine chain leash. He’d clipped it on the moment they had slipped through the outer doors. His Kat membership card had gotten them entry. Callum and Connor had

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reciprocal membership deals with a few clubs in neighboring states. Shivers was one of those. He wanted a chance to have a look around and let Bailey settle before he headed upstairs to see Craig Weston, the co-owner-manager of the alternative club. At the moment she looked pretty comfortable, curled on a cushion at his feet with her head on his knee and her arm wrapped around his calf, but Jory could feel her tension. Shivers was the most secure of all the D&s clubs in Denver. The building was part of a large complex with a narrow street frontage, and the fact that most of the club was underground had reassured Bailey. The large foyer area was a long way from the main floor where they now sat, but Jory noticed the covert glances Bailey gave to the only possible point of ingress for a madman in a truck. She also looked carefully at every man who walked past their perch in the corner. Blond hair and a mustache that could have by now been shaven off were the concrete features Bailey had given in her description, but she had also spoken of a peculiar slant to his features, almost an asymmetrical twist that she could neither adequately describe nor draw when asked. She was adamant she would be able to pick him out of a lineup, though, and for that reason they were at Shivers. Jory found it amusing to watch all the posturing and little tableaus being played out all around them. It was vastly entertaining. He knew that upstairs was just the wannabes. Higher-membership patrons were downstairs. It had been a long time since he had stayed out in the general admittance area of any club, and it made him feel old and a little jaded to watch all the aspiring Doms try to pick up the freshfaced young things on the meat market of the dance floor. Most of them looked like they were here on a dare anyway. They were moving too self-consciously to belong. He didn’t get to sit and watch for long. A tall, PVC-clad woman stalked toward them on painful-looking stilettos. “Jory Raines. What are you doing hiding over here? Come on up, Craig is waiting for

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you.” Jory watched the woman’s eyes light up when she glanced at Bailey. “Do you want to take your little friend with you, or can I look after her for a while?” “I will keep her with me, thanks, Latisha.” He felt Bailey stiffen when he smiled at Latisha, and withheld a chuckle. Bailey was a little wide of the mark with her jealousy. He was safe from Latisha. She liked her partners meek and submissive, gender was irrelevant. It also helped if they were total pain sluts. The woman wielded a single tail with the devil’s hand. Jory followed Latisha up the catwalk stairs and into the silenced comfort of the office. Bailey clung to him like a second skin. He had not once felt weight on the other end of the leash. That told him just how nervous she was. Leaning back in his chair, Craig had his eyes on the bank of monitors in front of him. “James, section two. Check it out, that guy has had one warning. If she wants away, turf him out.” He lifted a finger from the button and turned to his visitors. “Jory, good to see you again. Cal called and told me you were on the way. I wish it was for purely pleasure.” Jory shook his hand and introduced Bailey. “I am deeply sorry for what happened to you, Ms. Verne. We do our utmost to keep a safe environment here at Shivers, but this psycho is a threat to all of the clubs in Denver. I am grateful that you found the strength to return to one.” “It needs doing. The police don’t even have any suspects. Anything I can do to help catch him, I will. I was lucky. Two people have died and many more have been hurt so far. I want him caught before he gets a chance to hurt anyone else.” “So do we, love, so do we.” Latisha picked up a file from the cabinet and perched on the desk. She spoke straight to Jory, soundly ignoring Bailey. “We think it is a would-be Dom who we have refused membership to. All the clubs in Denver are very close knit. Once someone goes on the “do not admit” list, they find themselves denied access to all of the clubs. The same

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goes with infractions—a month ban here at Shivers applies to all the clubs. We have also added any disgruntled boyfriends, lovers, or husbands who have caused a scene to cover the possibility that it is an act of revenge from a spurned partner. We are looking at all possibilities.” Jory watched as Latisha fixed Bailey with her heavily eye-lined gaze. “You are the only one who can identify him, pet. No one else has got a look at him at all. Now I know you must have been distraught and more than a little confused, but anything you can remember about this man will help to catch him. Can you look through some photos for us, sweetie?” He saw Bailey’s jaw ripple and felt sorry for Latisha. She was talking to Bailey as if she was a submissive little sex toy with not a brain in her head. “Will you give me a pat on the head if I find him?” Jory held back a chuckle at her falsely eager tone. Craig didn’t bother, he guffawed loudly. “Haven’t you clipped her claws yet, Jory?” Latisha ignored Craig’s laughter as she regarded Bailey as if she was some kind of strange but interesting unidentified creature. “I kind of like her claws just the way they are.” “It has finally happened. The great Jory Raines has fallen. How long has it taken for her to get her hooks into you?” “She has been trying since she was five. There comes a time when you just have to give in gracefully before you start to look like a fool. You might be lucky enough to find out one day.” Latisha shuddered theatrically. “I hope it’s not contagious. I’ll pull up the file and leave you to it.” Her fingers flew over the nearest keyboard. “Tell Craig if you see anything. Darling, give them my key when they’re finished. Let the lovebirds play for a while.” Craig acknowledged her with a wave, his eyes fixed on the monitors and his finger once again on the button. “James, section six. Kindly inform the woman in red to stay in red, please, no undress on

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the dance floor.” He took a sip of coffee. “It’s gonna be one of them nights.” Jory sat in the single chair behind the computer and put his arm around Bailey. She slid onto his lap and started looking at slides. He knew without looking when she had found the guy. Her body stiffened and he could feel her heart thump against the ribs his hand sat on. “Number five, Craig.” Jory spoke when Bailey made no move to. “Great. That’s one of the guys we have refused entry many times. He started trying to use disguises and fake IDs. Keep looking. There may be more than one picture of him.” Bailey found two more definites and one maybe. The last photo was of such poor quality that she had done well in his opinion to recognize it as human. Craig was ecstatic to get a positive ID on the offender and promised to call the police as soon as he got someone to relieve him at the monitors. He plucked an electronic key from a Peg-board behind him. “Downstairs, last door on the right. You know the rules. Enjoy.” Jory winked at Bailey when she threw him a confused look. Downstairs was going to open her eyes up. Jory led her down the stairs and turned right to the discreet door with a uniformed woman standing vigilantly beside it. Jory held up the card, and she nodded and stepped away from the scanner. Jory slid the card into the reader and heard the weighty thunk of the heavy locking mechanism disengaging. He ushered Bailey down the stairs, with the hand that held her leash sitting on her waist. The play of her bare skin beneath his palm was tempting, too tempting. He took hold of his desires and put them on ice. He had a few things to show Bailey first. “Rules are to keep quiet and don’t interfere. If you want to move along, just give me a nudge.” He kept his voice low, but it echoed in the silence of the

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carpeted stairwell. The soundproofing in these clubs was second to none. “If you have any questions, save them for later.” He stopped before the door at the end of the stairs. Her skin felt like the finest silk, warm beneath his palm when he wrapped it around her nape. The press of the collar gave him a deep satisfaction. “One kiss, baby, and then you have to behave.” The eager lift of her chin made him smile. Bailey loved her kisses. Actually, she loved damn near everything. He knew that if he even touched her neck she was awash, an involuntary response. Her little squirm told him today was no different. “So eager. You’re in trouble tonight, brat.” “Jory?” “Mmm?” “Shut up and kiss me.” He obliged, being mindful of her lipstick, pulling back when she made to take the kiss deeper. Wearing clown makeup could seriously undermine his reputation. “Come on, brat, let’s find out what’s going on down here.” He pushed open the door. **** Bailey felt like Alice down the rabbit hole. Music thumped, deep but relatively quiet. Occasional screams and shouts lifted above the throbbing bass. There was a desperate quality to the screams, one that spoke of need and want rather than purely pain. Her breathing lifted in sympathy, the same want flooding her system. For the first time she felt a tug on the leash. Her eyes flew to Jory, and she saw the same sentiment echoed in his icy blues. His smile made promises for later before he headed straight ahead. Bailey followed eagerly. The short corridor opened up into a dimly lit space with a bar, dance floor, and comfortable seating arrangements scattered about. There was a relaxed quality to the patrons that hadn’t been visible up in the other area. A comfortable assurance that made the try-hards

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above appear exactly what they were. Bailey shuddered to think that upstairs was where she had hoped to find what she had been chasing. No wonder she hadn’t gotten anything but trouble. She spotted Latisha stalking about. Her PVC glistened as she had a word here and there. She watched as a fat man in a florid shirt passed the leash he held to her. The shirtless young man on the end of it was buff and handsome in that preppy, barely legal way. Latisha led him to a passageway disappearing on the other side of the room. Bailey gave Jory questioning eyes. He leaned down until she could feel his mouth against her curls. “Latisha likes to play with other people’s toys. We’ll swing by after she gets him warmed up. Just don’t get any ideas.” He moved on before she could query him on the cryptic remark. He led her to a revolving stage in the corner and took a vacant seat. He tossed a cushion on the ground, and Bailey sank onto it, winding herself about him as she had upstairs. She had thought sitting at his feet would be degrading and make her chafe, but she had no problems. This was Jory, and she knew where she really stood with him. He wanted a strong woman at his side, and for that, she was happy to play at his feet. Well, she certainly got the better part of that deal. Not once during play had Jory come. She’d had countless orgasms stretched out and bound for his pleasure, but he had not partaken. Afterwards, when the scene was finished and she had recovered, she had to beg to get him to make love to her or to let her suck him to completion. The scene on stage captured her attention. Two men had a pretty, chubby woman restrained in a standing cross. Chains suspended from the ceiling held her hands high and wide. Her ankles were similarly chained to the floor. One man stood before her, masked and dressed in black leather pants and vest. The other man was shaven headed, tough looking, heavily muscled and tattooed. He was a little coarse for Bailey’s taste, but she knew she would have played with him

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without a second thought before getting caught up in a madman’s revenge. And before Jory. No man held any real appeal for her now except the one she twined around. She watched as the masked man took a length of rope and began to bind the big breasts exposed above the demi-corset the brunette wore. He bound the base of the pendulous breasts tight until they sat up like bloated balloons, red and swollen. Despite the pressure, the large, dusky nipples were hard. Bailey tightened her thighs when he began cruelly flicking the nubs, bringing them to even greater heights. She loved harsh treatment on her nipples, thrived on it. Pinches Jory dealt out for punishment only sent her higher and looking for more. His fingers stroked along her collar, and she glanced up to see a mocking little smile playing around his mobile mouth. Yep, he knew what she liked. The brunette’s breathing came in harsh pants when Tattoo Guy picked up a flat strip of wood. A two-foot ruler. He gave a sharp blow to each bloated breast, leaving white marks that quickly filled with livid red. One vicious blow landed atop the woman’s bare lower lips, and Bailey watched with startled awe as her clit poked out between the shaven folds. She had never seen the like. Tattoo Guy walked around to her rear and started laying a pattern of stripes down her ass and thighs. Bailey could see their lips move as they talked to the woman, but the words were lost to the music. Mask Guy picked up a huge vibrator, the bulbous external type. The appliance cord looked as if it was made for heavy ampage. Bailey’s clit quivered just thinking about that kind of power. They worked as a well-oiled team, one bestowing pain, the other doling out reward. Bailey’s eyes lit up when Tattoo Guy reached for a paraffin candle. She had always wanted to try wax play. He dribbled it across the brunette’s shoulders and then on her striped buttocks. The white wax was startling against her ruby-tinted skin.

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Bailey couldn’t watch the clothespins being applied to every inch of her folds without wincing. It was a little too close to what she had experienced. But Jory’s hand stroked her neck again, and she settled in to watch. The way they had pinned the woman actually opened her and exposed her further to the torment of the industrial-sized vibrator. The revolving stage gave all the audience a prime view from every angle. Her cries had reached a pitch that put them above the music. A needy wail that echoed down Bailey’s spine and pushed her nipples even harder against the stretchy white dress. Time became irrelevant. Bailey didn’t know if they had been sitting there for five minutes or five hours. The scene culminated in a scream that was equal parts pleasure and pain as Tattoo Guy gave her five of the best with a rattan cane across her plump buttocks, raising welts that wept, while Mask Guy pinched a nipple and ruthlessly squashed her clit with the powerful vibrator. The last view Bailey had before the curtain dropped was of both men holding the woman between them, bodies pressed tenderly to hers while their lips kissed her bared shoulders. A pang of jealousy took her by surprise. Jory’s hand wrapped the whole back of her neck, tipping her head up to him. “Can you walk, brat? Or do I have to get a bucket and mop you up off the floor?” He definitely read her too well. “I think I’ll manage.” Bailey accepted the hand he offered to help her up. “We’ll go and see what Latisha is up to. Remember—no ideas.” That only made her more curious. Jory headed down the hall the woman in black had taken earlier. Bailey sucked in a breath when he stopped at a Perspex room with a sign on the wall reading “The Wet Room.” Every surface looked like it could be hosed down. The slave was on all fours on the rubber floor, one needle-point stiletto resting on his back. It looked like he’d had red wax dribbled all over his back. Latisha’s attention was on the many-lashed whip in her hands as she untangled a snarl. The infamous cat-o’-nine-tails.

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The young man was obviously well hung and more than a little excited. His erection rubbed his belly button. Bailey didn’t know how he was remaining still until Jory led her past another couple watching and she could see why it was so. His balls were caught in a humbler—a bar behind his thighs that had an opening to trap his testicles. Any attempts to straighten his legs would pull at his balls. The sight titillated Bailey. She had never watched a male sub be dominated before, and while she liked to be the one on the receiving end, the thought of having a man under her power picked up her pulse. Latisha got her whip sorted out and gave a few teasing lashes up under his belly to stripe his cock before letting him have it across the width of that muscled back. Bailey was fascinated right up until she realized the red on his back was not wax but blood. She blanched and dropped her gaze, turning away and pressing her face into Jory’s shoulder. He needed no further encouragement. He led her along the corridor until they came to a dead end. He swiped the card and let her into a darkened room. Lights came on, but Bailey just buried her head in Jory’s chest and clung. “Too much for you, baby?” His hands rubbed soothing circles on her back. “I don’t understand how she could do that. He was bleeding.” “But still as hard as only a twenty-something can be.” “I couldn’t do it.” “I know, baby, and for that I’m glad. I couldn’t either. I like to see red marks, a welt or two. Bruised, not broken. I don’t need to see blood to know I’m having an effect. But some subs need it. Need more than their masters are willing to dish out. That’s when Latisha steps in. But you saw that boy. He wanted every bit he was getting. I’m glad she didn’t have the single tail out, though. I don’t have the stomach to watch her using that if she is going for blood.” “So you don’t think I’m a crybaby?” Bailey knew it was out of character for her to be choked up over something that had been

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consenting and watched by so many others. She knew she was rattled from being back in a club, but the sight of blood had truly unnerved her. “No. I think you’re incredibly brave, and incredibly sexy. I know you loved the first scene. Did you see anything you want to try?” “All of it except the clamps. I’ve been dying to see what wax feels like, and I kind of like the look of that rope thing.” “Let’s have a look around and see what Tisha has got in here.” Bailey lifted from his chest and blinked back the tears that had been threatening while he unclipped the leash from her collar. The room was large and comfortable. Padded couches and benches with discreet attachment points, cupboards and drawers and a mirrored corner. Jory was opening doors and sliding drawers. Bailey peered around him, spying all sorts of dildos, plugs, and ticklers sealed in plastic that bore the “Shivers hygiene guarantee” seal. “Oh, we are going to have some fun tonight.” Jory’s hands snared things here and there, making a pile on the bench. “Your choice, Bailey. Pick where you want to be.” He gestured at the furniture scattered about. Her eyes flew from one bench to the next before settling on a spanking bench very like Jory’s one at home. The only difference that she could see was a gap in the main rest that would make her breasts accessible. She loved the vulnerability of having her ass exposed, the sensation that things were out of her control. The only problem with Jory’s was that it left her breasts neglected. This one solved that problem. She ran her hands along the faux-leather squabs. “I should have known. You just love taunting me with that ass. I’ll cure you of that one day.” Yeah, like that was going to happen. Bailey had given up hope of him ever taking her anally. He had teased and taunted until he had overcome her aversion, and now that she craved it he had gone no further. He held up a coil of soft kernmantle rope and a few candle tapers. “Time to play, brat. You’re a little overdressed.”

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Bailey held his gaze and stripped the dress off over her head. She hung it up on the crossbar of the crucifix against the wall. The look of total hunger that gripped him at the sight of her nudity never failed to make her heart pound harder. She gave an extra roll to her hips as she sashayed over to him, her pointed nipples leading the way. Only when they scraped against the fine cotton of his shirt did she stop. “If I promise to be a good girl, will Sir do something for me?” She batted her eyelashes theatrically. “What do you want, brat?” “Will you take your shirt off, please?” His eyes showed his surprise at her request. It made her wonder just what he thought she was going to ask for. But that thought was lost as he emptied his hands and reached for the buttons. Bailey bit her lip as he slid the shirt off and hung it up. His chest was naturally smooth, only a few silky strands dotted it here and there. The lean, muscled expanse was lightly tanned where he, too, had been spending time lounging around the stream. The leather pants sat low on his narrow hips, accentuating the long line of his taut waist. When he turned to hang up the shirt, Bailey couldn’t take her eyes off his back. The perfect wedge. Broad shoulders swooped in to his tight waist and that gorgeous ass. Bailey was drooling. “Jesus, Bailey. The way you look at me! You make a man feel like a god, baby.” Bailey forgot about play when he took her in his arms and kissed her. She splayed both hands on his chest and absorbed the feel of his hard flesh, hot and bare against her skin. His tongue swept through her mouth like wildfire, burning with total devastation. She grew weak beneath the onslaught, lost in the blaze. “This is gonna be over before it begins if I let you have your way.” Jory nipped at her lips once more before pulling away. “Get over here if you want to find out what hot wax feels like, baby. You already know what the slide of my cock feels like, and that’s about all you’re gonna get if you keep putting your hands on me.”

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Bailey was still trying to work out if that was a bad thing when the feel of heavy iron against her wrist snapped her attention. “It’s the only kind of restraint in the room, Bailey. I guess it all comes down to whether you trust me or not.” He would have to put it in those terms. She knew it was all psychological. That really she was no more likely to be able to escape from Jory’s Velcro cuffs than these metal ones. But the steel felt so damn uncompromising. Even lovingly lined with leather, the cold metal was daunting. She held her hand out before she could rethink it. “Good girl.” Jory’s smile was reward enough, heated approval blazing forth. The second hand was offered without hesitation. “I’m going to chain you up while I put the rope on. I don’t trust you to keep your hands to yourself when I’m that close.” He snapped a short chain between the cuffs and raised them up. Bailey took a deep breath as he stepped in closer to lift them over a hook suspended from the ceiling, making her nipples run along his lower chest. His breath caught, but he continued on with a shake of his head. “You’re a bad, bad girl.” He didn’t say that like it was a bad thing. He stepped back and reached for the coil of rope. He put it on differently to the way the woman on stage had been bound. It didn’t look as binding or as uncomfortable. The rope ran across her back and circled each breast in some kind of hitch before being joined between the captured mounds. “It’s not very tight, sir.” It wasn’t a complaint, but she had expected, well, more. “Take a deep breath, brat.” Bailey did as Jory instructed and immediately felt the compression as the rope tightened around each breast. “Oh, God!” “Sometimes less is best. This way won’t numb you out, and each breath you take works against you. And believe me—you are going to be taking some mighty big breaths tonight.” He flicked both nipples hard and elicited exactly that response. “I’m going to clamp these nipples tonight, Bailey. Show you the way clamps are supposed to be

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used. Latisha has got some nice rubberized ones that are adjustable enough to fit these big nipples of yours. “But not yet. I think you’re ready for a bigger plug, baby. And I’m gonna put one fair up that tight little ass before I go any further.” He reached up and unhooked her hands. Bailey thrilled to the contact as he stepped in close and brushed against her bound breasts. “Get on the bench, brat.” Bailey positioned herself on the padded bench, tilting her hips a little more than necessary once she snugged her breasts into the space allotted to them. Jory didn’t miss it either and brought his hand down in a resounding smack. The sting and the heat radiated with unerring precision straight to her womb, loosing a welcoming flood across her folds. “Do you need me to tie you down, or can you stay still for this?” The sensation of a cold, blunt, and slick pressure against her anus made her buck. “I’ll take that as a ‘tie me up, please, sir’.” The wrist cuffs made a solid sound as they clipped onto the anchor points. Bailey kept her head lifted, enjoying the delectable sight of Jory’s washboard abs and lean hips tucking into the leather pants. When he circled around behind her, she could watch him in the mirror. The leg restraints were straps and buckles rather than Velcro, and Jory made sure they were snug. “That’s better. You’re not going anywhere now. I’m not going to stretch your ass first this time, Bailey. I want you to concentrate and relax. You need to give up your body to me for this to work. Do you understand?” “Yes, sir.” “Let’s see how you go.” His hand felt cool when he laid it on the cheek he had slapped, but the gentle touch of his lips was warm against the other. Bailey relaxed, fighting the urge to tighten when she felt the daunting width of the well-lubed toy press against her once more. It rocked against her star, not penetrating but pressing firmly before backing off. “That’s the way, baby. Relax and let me have it.

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You’re going to feel so full and stretched. This plug has got plenty of give to it. You’re going to be clenching down tight on it when I take a paddle to this ass, love.” The sharp pinch of entry gave way to the slow burn of impalement as the rubber was gently but firmly pressed forward. Bailey couldn’t help the little mewling sounds coming from her throat. There was something so inherently submissive about having her ass penetrated that put her reaction out of her hands. Sounds, shivers, gasps—none of it she could control. “Look at that! So hot, baby. It’s nearly there. Good girl, it’s in now. You can squeeze it if you want.” There was no want about it, her body craved the burn. Clasping convulsively, Bailey gasped when she felt the plug shift inside her. A tilt of her hips put the delicious internal pressure against the inner face of her tailbone. She nearly passed out from the pleasure. She knew Jory was visible in the mirror, but she was too lost to focus, absorbed in the nefarious decadence. “Sweet fucking torture.” Jory’s rich voice was husky with lust, the melodic rasp reaching her through the haze. “I want to bury myself balls-deep in that ass of yours, Bailey. You have no idea just how much you tempt me.” “I wish you would.” “Save that thought for later, baby. We are going to have some fun first. I’ll warm you up with the paddle, and then we’ll see how you like the kiss of hot wax.” Bailey shuddered with anticipation. His voice wrapped around her senses and pulled her under. She went willingly, her trust complete as she surrendered. The paddle didn’t have the sting of the lash or the harsh intimacy of a bare palm, and her body rose into the blows, looking for more. “Isn’t that enough, sweet?” Bailey shook her head. She wanted more, to feel the sting and rise above it, buoyed higher and higher as the endorphins flooded her bloodstream.

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She felt Jory move away briefly. The leather he rubbed across her back felt pliable but substantial. “It’s a strap, baby. Nice and wide so it won’t cut this lovely skin. Call yellow if I go too hard for you and I’ll back off.” His hand stroked her flank, deliberately reassuring before the first blow landed. It smarted, but it still wasn’t enough. A low moan escaped her throat, and Jory let her have it harder. Her ass squeezed down involuntarily on the plug as the second blow landed, sending shards of forbidden pleasure to mingle with the heavenly pain. She dropped her head down and embraced the fire as blows began raining down faster and harder. From her shoulders to her thighs, the thick caress of the strap bit hard. It burned with the sweetest agony. Lancing pain became absolute rapture as the wonders of endorphins inundated her system. Bailey floated, lost in the tangled web of sensation. “So good, baby.” Jory’s voice sounded like it was passing through winter molasses to reach her. The realization that the blows had stopped and he was running his hands soothingly over her was just as slow in coming. “You gave in so beautifully. Open your eyes. Tell me where we’re at, baby.” It was a real struggle to comply. Her eyelids felt as if they were weighted with lead, heavy and slow. “That’s the girl. Where are we at, Bailey? Is everything okay?” A slow smile grew at the corners of her mouth, lazy and thick feeling. Was everything okay? Okay didn’t begin to cover it. “Un-fucking-believable.” It was a little raspy, but Jory’s strained chuckle said he had heard her just fine. He chuckled even harder when she tacked on a belated “sir.” “You are going to be the death of me, brat,” he asserted, coming back around in front. “I’m going to clamp these beautiful big nipples now, baby, and then we’ll find out just how much you like the wax.”

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Jory made some adjustments to the table, and she found herself kneeling upright, hands anchored to the side of the table. The shifting of the plug within her closed her eyes and forced her lungs to draw a deep breath, tightening the binds on her breasts. She opened them to find Jory watching her with flagrant hunger and admiration. “You are so fucking beautiful.” His hand buried into her curls, tugging sharply as he tilted her head for his lips’ descent. Bailey sent her tongue to duel with his, not so far gone that she would squander a chance to taste him. He nipped her sharply for her audacity but not before drawing sweetly on her tongue. Bailey thrilled to his kiss. Other than his hands, he did not normally have contact with her once they were in play mode, but tonight he was pushing the boundaries. She was eager to see just how far that would take them tonight. “These nipples aren’t quite sharp enough. Should I pinch them or flick them to get them harder?” That too was new. He had never given her options before. “Suck them.” It was a brazen dare. “Oh, baby, you are in so much trouble.” Her scream echoed off the ceiling when he pinched her nipples relentlessly. Bailey arched, letting the pain swamp her as she struggled to embrace it. She rose above the stormy tide. Her nostrils flared and she smiled at Jory. “Again.” The pain was absolute, all consuming and so fucking addictive. Icy blue eyes held admiration as she held his gaze through it all. The clamps were nothing after that cataclysm of sensation, just a pleasant tease. She watched hungrily as he set a match to the first taper. The smell of sulfur tickled her nose. The brilliant, perfect flame warmed the wax, pooling it around the trembling wick. A growl lit from her throat when the first drop landed on his inner wrist instead of her hungry skin. “Just testing, baby. Candles melt at different temperatures. This one should be hot enough for you.”

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Bailey had expected him to start on her breasts, but he circled behind her once more and she felt the molten wax land high on her shoulder, warm but not hot. “Want it hotter?” “Yes. God, yes.” His hand lowered before the next drop spilled. The heat was instant, but cooled fast. A dribble came next, exquisite agony for a whole second before it, too, cooled in the ambient temperature. She let out a hiss when he repeated it on the other shoulder, a generous splash that ran along her skin with white-hot fury before surrendering to chemistry and reforming a solid. The first drop that landed on her breast wasn’t as hot as the dribbles on her shoulders, but on the tender, taut skin, it didn’t have to be. Fire danced along her nerve endings as Jory rained down drips of wax with a master’s precision, ever closer to her nipples. It was too much. Too much but never enough. “I want you, Jory. I need to come so bad. Fuck me, please fuck me.” It was the first time she had been reduced to out-and-out begging. Jory froze. She watched a droplet of wax hover on the brink before freefalling in slow motion to land on the very end of her clamped nipple. Searing heat engulfed the tortured bud. Bailey screamed as the sensation threatened her very sanity. “Come for me, Bailey.” Harsh and rough, his voice grated in her ear as he touched her clit with one finger. Bailey exploded. The orgasm tore through every cell in her body, leaving no part untouched as her reality rocked on its foundations. Jory anchored her with his voice and the touch of his finger as he coaxed every last twitch from the wreck of her body. She felt the gentle touch of his hands as he released her from her bonds and the flush of blood rush into her breasts and nipples as he removed their fetters. Trembled a little when the plug was tugged from her body. Gloried in the press of his chest to her back as he

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wrapped his larger body around hers and gave her comfort. Bailey let her head fall back against him and soaked up the feel of Jory surrounding her. “Why won’t you fuck me?” “I do, baby. Just as often as I possibly can.” “I mean when we’re playing.” “I have to stay in control then. Your safety depends on it. I can’t think when I’m inside you, and I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.” “You need to trust yourself, Jory. I know you would never hurt me more than I want to be hurt. I would love to see you let go, to know you are getting the same pleasure out of it as I am.” “Seeing you let go like you did tonight is its own pleasure, Bailey. It is the biggest high to know that I have pushed you to such a point. To watch you embrace the pain, watch the pleasure chase it across your face. You are fucking amazing.” “I’m still horny.” “Can you wait until we get back to the hotel and get cleaned up? I’d like to be able to fall asleep with you in my arms afterward instead of getting dressed and struggling out of here.” “I’ll try and wait.” Bailey went to move. “Whoa! Where are you going so fast? It’s snuggling time, time to bask in the afterglow.” “But you didn’t come.” “I’ll bask in your afterglow then. Let me hold you, baby. I need it.” Bailey relaxed back against Jory. He could hold her for as long as he wished.

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Chapter 8 Bailey was pensive on the seven-hour drive back. Last night she had experienced more pleasure than she thought was possible. After the intensity of their play in the private room at Shivers, Jory had bathed her in the quiet luxury of their suite and made love to her. Long and sweet, with deep rolling thrusts that had touched her soul. He’d been hungry and masterly, pinning her hands and plundering her mouth, but he had remained staunchly in control. Bailey wanted to take his precious control and rip it to shreds. To taste the primal hunger. To embrace the wild demons that held sway in his psyche. Jory didn’t scare her. He had never scared her. He had that innate protectiveness, the need to nurture. He might get off on inflicting a little pain, but he was all care at heart. She wanted the whole package, not the carefully separated aspects he wrapped up and gifted her with on occasion. Hell, he hadn’t even taken her ass when she’d begged last night. She had wanted to give herself to him entirely when they had reached the bed, all pink and warm from the bath. The plug he’d stretched her with at the club had given her the confidence to do it. She knew how to relax and had grown addicted to the burn. But he’d given her a “not yet, baby” and slid into her vagina instead. Surely he broke the man-code there. Men just didn’t knock back that kind of offer. No red-blooded, sexually functioning ones with a heartbeat anyway. She had forgotten to be miffed awfully fast last night beneath the power of his body, but in the cold light of day she was feeling not shitty, but a little disappointed. She wanted him to

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give her all he was with the same unrestrained abandon with which she loved him. “You’re awfully quiet, brat. It must be hard to just visit and leave like that.” He thought she was thinking about Nathan. She had gone through that for over six months now. Her fatalistic streak had already ensured she enjoyed every moment she had with him and then hardened her heart and walked away. Life would swamp her if she didn’t have the ability to accept what could not be changed. “It is, but as much of a bastard as Mark is, he is a good father, and he loves Nathan as much as I do. I think Michele loves him, too. Even if he likes to terrorize her. He is in good hands with people who love him, and if he can’t be with me, that’s all I can ask.” She squeezed the hand he laid on her thigh. “I’m hungry again. Can we stop for something to eat?” “You’re a bottomless pit after a big night.” “I know. I guess I should have eaten last night after all.” “I did offer.” “I know. I just had a different kind of appetite on my mind right then.” “What do you feel like?” Jory rolled his eyes at the deliberately naughty smile she gave him. “To eat, brat.” “Pie with loads of cream, and a decent coffee.” “That sounds good actually. I was worried about piling on weight with your cooking, but I need to eat twice as much just to keep up with you. Will this do?” He pulled into a roadside diner. There were enough big rigs pulled up to give Bailey confidence. If the truckers were stopping there, the food was good and the coffee was usually better. ****

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Jory watched the apple and rhubarb pie disappear in very short order. Bailey ate with the same gusto she approached life with. Her appreciative little noises had him shifting in his seat, and drew the attention of one or two truckers. He could only grin. Bailey held nothing back—she grabbed life with both hands and rode hard. She had always been reckless, impulsive and wild. The years had tempered that, but only a little. At least she checked which way she was headed before she sunk a spur now. She was still rushing headlong into foolishness with him, though. Wanting more than was good for her was par for the course, but she was flirting with danger now. He couldn’t live with himself if he lost control and damaged her. She had been through so much, and he had no intentions of adding to her hurt. Her blatant begging last night had tested him sorely. For an agonized heartbeat he had hovered, poised on the brink of surrendering and taking her ass. The hesitation was the thing that convinced him it was wrong. He didn’t normally hesitate at all. The problem was that he kept seeing her as she had been when he had stripped the clothes from her bruised and battered body. Torn and broken. He couldn’t do anything that would bring back the frightening ordeal she had endured. He couldn’t imagine the terror and pain she had experienced trapped and subjected to what were, essentially, devices of torture. He didn’t want to do anything that would bring back the shame and degradation she had experienced on being found in such a way. He wanted desperately to give her all that he was, but he held himself carefully in check. The need to dominate, to use pain and pleasure to enslave a victim, to hear them beg and plead, was a part of him. He acknowledged that, but he didn’t let those needs override his will. “You gonna finish that?” Bailey was eyeing of the remains of his blackberry pie, spoon at the ready.

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Jory pushed the plate over and watched it disappear. Her audience had grown to four. He dropped money on the table and dragged her from the diner the moment she was finished. “What’s the hurry?” “I wasn’t giving the truckers a chance to marshal their forces. They would have kept you there and force-fed you forever.” “Why would they do that?” “Because the sounds you make when you eat make a man wonder what kind of sounds you would make with your mouth wrapped around his cock.” “Really?” “Really.” Jory opened the Jeep and watched her climb in before shutting the door and getting in himself. “You, too?” He knew there was glee in her voice as he pulled back onto I-25. “It’s worse for me. I know exactly what noises you make.” Bailey cocked her head and leaned forward, eyeing his crotch. “It looks like someone else liked the noises, too.” “You’re not wrong. He knows how it feels to have them vibrating along his head.” “Ever had a blow job while you were driving?” Jory groaned silently when she licked her lips, a wicked little smile gracing them. “No, and I’m not about to start now.” “That’s a shame.” He fixed his eyes firmly forward when she twisted on the seat, tucking her legs beneath her and facing him over the center console. Her hand branded the denim-clad stretch of his thigh as she caressed it. “Betcha I can change your mind.” He wouldn’t wager on those odds. She was on to a sure thing, but he wasn’t going to let her know that. Bailey being naughty was a treat not to be passed up. Her smile promised you the kind of fun that could land you behind bars before she lowered her head and tugged down his zipper with her teeth. By the time her hot little tongue licked his shaft through the opened zipper he had pulled safely off the road and into a rest area

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that thankfully was unoccupied. He left the motor running and unclipped his seatbelt. Bailey’s hands tugged at the waist button on his jeans. He let her struggle. Her impatient growl made him smile. She was so damn greedy. Always chasing instant gratification—she wanted it all and wanted it now. He sucked in his breath reflexively with a rough hiss when she nipped the skin of his stomach. She used the space that gained to undo the button. A purr replaced the growl as she spread his jeans wide to expose the thick arch begging for her touch. His hands bit into the steering wheel as his lap filled with golden curls. Her hot breath teased him for a heartbeat, taunting him with its humid promise. Then she licked him. Sultry and slow from the wide base all the way to the weeping tip. Once more it swiped across the sensitive head before her mouth opened and he was lost. Sinful suction. As wet as you like and hotter than hell. She took him to the back of her throat and then she moaned. Heavenly vibrations tickled across rapacious nerves and skated along his spine. He didn’t fight it as his balls drew up, eager to relinquish their burden to her questing mouth. Bailey had brought the storm down—she could reap the whirlwind. Her mouth began to work him in earnest, sliding suction coupled with a flicking tongue. Calculated moves designed to bring him undone. He trapped her head, fingers clenching on her blonde locks. “You want it, Bailey? Swallow every last drop.” He buried in her throat and spent in the convulsing depths. He could feel her struggling not to gag, to accept the harsh handling as he removed choice from the equation. When the last shudder wracked him, he lifted her head, worried he had gone too far. Her face was slack, lips swollen and shiny, and her eyes unfocused. Her thighs pressed together shamelessly. The little brat had loved every second of it.

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He cupped her mound through the cargos she wore and dug his fingers in around her clit. “Do you want to come, Bailey? I should leave you high and dry for that stunt.” Her answer was to throw back her head, her mouth open in a silent scream. Jory watched in surprise and wonder as she came. The ease with which he was able to bring her to orgasm astounded him. It was like she sat there, right on the edge whenever he touched her. It only took the lightest contact with her clit to send her hurtling headlong into the flames. He watched as reason returned to her face, saw a little surprise in her blink. “That was quick.” Jory smiled at the obvious statement. He was glad he hadn’t switched off the motor. They hadn’t been pulled over for more than two minutes. “I was feeling a little embarrassment at how quick I gave in, but I had nothing on you, brat.” He shook his head. “No selfcontrol whatsoever.” “Yeah, but I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for. I can’t even make myself come as quickly as you can.” Jory tucked himself back in and zipped his jeans. “You mean those drawn-out performances a few weeks ago weren’t for my benefit?” He pulled back on to the road. He noticed Bailey flushed a little before coming clean. “Well, not entirely.” He let out a laugh and drove on beneath a blue Wyoming sky. **** Her frustration built over the next week. Bailey tried everything to get Jory to give up his control—begged, pleaded, demanded, and provoked. He would have her in a satisfied blob within five seconds and then act like the problem was over. The more he held back from her, the more she wanted every damn thing he had to offer.

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She had never thought she would cry out with disappointment when Jory Raines slid inside her. Fast and hard, or slow and sweet, it made no difference. The plaintive cry sprang from her throat when he pushed into her wet sheath. She wanted a darker possession, for him to take what she had given no other the right to. To give her beautiful, wicked memories to erase the nightmares of the past. But he wouldn’t take her ass or add sex to a play scene. He was as stubborn and as immovable as the mountains. He shamelessly used her pleasure to control her, manipulating her away from her goal, turning her upside down and inside out until she didn’t know if she was coming or going. It wasn’t fucking fair! She was worse than a little kid distracted by the lure of candy. It wasn’t about the sex. It was about everything the sex represented. For as long he held back from letting her have everything sexually, he was holding back vital parts of him, the parts that made up the man that she loved. She had to get him to embrace not only her needs but those of his own that he denied. Pushed to the end of her endurance, she confronted him directly. Told him straight that if he didn’t quit holding back on her she was gone. That had gone over really well. He’d accused her of feeling neglected and remedied that by bending her over the kitchen bench and driving into her traitorously wet body and not stopping until she begged, so exhausted from countless orgasms that unconsciousness beckoned. He couldn’t do that if she wasn’t there. She feigned sleep on Monday morning as he left for work, hating the automatic smile that curled her lips at the gentle kiss he dropped on her cheek before leaving. He had such control over her body. He knew what buttons to push to get what reaction, and knew how to override or redirect her anger. Well, he couldn’t do that either if she wasn’t there. The moment the Jeep pulled out of the garage, she sprung into action, packing her belongings into the same two bags she had arrived

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with. The rest of her things were still lost in the black hole of transit. She laid the bejeweled collar on the kitchen table, in plain sight, and wrote him a note. I accepted this on the belief that I would be not only giving you all that I am, but getting all that you are. I delivered, you reneged. Look me up when you quit running from yourself. We’ll see if you’re man enough to put it back on. Bailey didn’t bother to sign it, and had to suppress a slightly juvenile urge to add a postscript about seeing him use his body to find a way around that. The ink wasn’t going to be swayed with any ploy he could come up with. She pulled the door shut behind her and threw her bags in the car. A few pieces she had underway joined the bags, but she didn’t bother with tools—there were plenty where she was going. A quick stop at the grocery store and she was set—food and liquor. There were times when a stiff drink was called for. **** The phone was trilling loudly when Jory got out of the Jeep. He vaguely wondered where Bailey was hiding as he ran to get it. Predictably, it stopped just as he got inside. The house felt empty, and the delicious aroma of Bailey’s cooking didn’t fill the air as it had every day since he had returned to work. A sparkle on the table caught his attention, and he felt like he had been punched when he realized it was Bailey’s collar. The way it was carefully displayed told its own story. He picked up the short note, written in Bailey’s capricious scrawl. The phone rang again as his eyes scanned her message. He answered. “Hello.”

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“Hey, Jory. Just calling to see if you had lost something.” Pete’s slow drawl held the edge of amusement, but it made him relax. At least she hadn’t run back to Denver. “Yeah. I’m a brat down.” “She’s holed up in the loft of my barn. Didn’t ask, just moved herself right on in.” “She does that.” “I saw her pull a bottle of whiskey out of the car. What did you do to rile her up? ” “It’s more a case of what I won’t do than what I have done, Pete.” “Some things a man don’t want to know. You want me to turf her out and send her on home?” “No. She’ll only go someplace else. I’m surprised she didn’t go to Marley’s.” “Marley doesn’t have a workshop like mine. I’ve been seeing welding flashes out the door all afternoon.” “It is probably best if I give her a little time to cool down. Can you put up with her until the weekend?” “I’ll keep an eye on her. If it looks like she’s up to any mischief, I’ll give you a call.” “Thanks, Pete.” “You two sort this out. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, son, and I’ve never seen Bailey look happier than she has since you gave in. Whatever it takes, it can’t be worse than losing her.” Jory found himself staring at the phone. He put it back on the cradle and snared a half bottle of whiskey and sat down, looking at the note but not really seeing it. He poured a glass and embraced the burn. He knew damn well it wouldn’t solve anything, but it would make him feel better for a little bit. He’d known it was all going to blow up eventually. She had been pushing him for weeks. He just hadn’t expected it to happen quite so quickly or leave him feeling so damn broken. Bailey was a part of

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him. He felt like he was missing an arm or a leg not having her there with him. Only the reason held him dumfounded. He had thought she would pull away because he was too hard, too controlling, but the little brat wanted more than he was prepared to give her. He felt some sympathy for Doms he had watched hand their charges over to others for punishment, or harsher treatment than they were comfortable with giving. Hell, he’d taken on that role for others. He never thought he would be in the same position. His feelings for Bailey were standing in the way of her getting what she wanted, not just wanted but needed. There was no way in hell he would risk really hurting her. The gut-wrenching sight of her all battered and torn flashed into his head every time he even contemplated giving in and fucking her as part of a scene, or taking the ass she so desperately tempted him with. A conscientious Dom made sure his charge’s needs were being met, either by themselves or a trusted surrogate, but the mere thought of another man even looking at Bailey, let alone fucking her, chilled his blood. She was more than his charge or his responsibility. Bailey Verne was his heart and soul. His big bed was cold and lonely. It had been a long time since he’d looked for answers at the bottom of a bottle. It wasn’t any more illuminating than it had been last time, and the hangover was worse. **** “Come on, Marley, it’s not too much to ask.” “Jory, you are on the no-good, shoulda-known-better, man-scum list at the moment. I could be excommunicated from the best friends’ league for even talking to you.” “I know, Marley. I’m desperate. I need your help, please.” “Oh, come in. Normally only big brown puppy-dog eyes have any effect on me, but I just love that look of futile male desperation.

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Never thought I would see that look on you, Jory. It gives a girl the warm fuzzies.” Jory took a deep breath and stepped through her open door. He normally avoided Marley like the plague unless Andy was around. Then her thought processes were firmly fixed on the big lawman instead of on painfully cutting him down to size. He didn’t envy Andy at all. The deputy was going to have his hands so full if he ever got over himself and accepted what was inevitable. “Run it by me again, Jory. I need to work out how much betrayal is involved.” Jory sat down at her table and accepted the strong black coffee she put in front of him. “There’s not much to it. All I want you to do is talk to her. Find out what is really going on with her. I can’t get any answers while she won’t talk to me, and when she was at home, something else always cropped up.” “You mean the fuck-her-into-forgetting tactic?” Jory flushed. Nothing was sacred between Marley and Bailey. “I see you two have been talking.” “Oh, we’ve been talking about a lot of things. But she always gets so hung up on your unwillingness to listen that I have no idea what’s behind it other than Bailey not getting her own way.” “It’s a little delicate.” “Oh, I just love that blush.” “All I’m asking is that you get her talking. She needs to get it out in the open, and she won’t do that with anyone but you.” “There’s a creek there. You realize she’s gonna have a few too many and drag me fishing, don’t you?” Marley grimaced. “And if I have a few drinks with her, I certainly won’t be reporting back.” “That won’t be necessary. It’s just important that she gets it off her chest. See, no betrayal involved at all.” He could see the cogs turning as she examined his proposal from every angle. “I’ll sweeten the deal. How would you like one full night where Andy can’t run and hide?”

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“That sounds too good to be true.” That’s because it was, but Jory held his tongue. “Please, Marley?” “Oh, all right! I was going out there on Thursday night anyway. I’ve got Friday off to recover. You’re not shitting me? I get a full night to work on Andy?” “I guarantee you will have his full and undivided attention.” “Okay! I’ll do it.” “Thanks, Marley. You have my undying gratitude.” “I’ll settle for that until you come through with the goods. I’m only doing this because I know you love her, Jory.” “I thought you were doing it because I can give you Andy.” “That, too. Now get out of here so I can get some sleep. I’m on night shift tonight.” “You’re a gem, Marley. Don’t let Andy tell you different.” **** “It’s just like fishing, Marley. You need the right bait to catch the right fish. See this corn kernel?” “Yeah. Don’t go putting that hook through your finger now.” “I’m going to throw it out there, and the only thing I’ll be pulling out is a dirty old carp. That way I can club the fuck out of him and throw him up on the bank.” “I notice you said him.” “Anything I get to bash the shit out of is a him. Anyway, where was I?” “Bait, carp, men, fishing. Hell if I know.” Jory chuckled quietly on Pete’s verandah. The sound of voices carried clearly up from the hole in the stream where the two increasingly intoxicated women fished a hundred yards away. The water wasn’t deep enough to worry about them drowning. Bailey was three sheets to the wind, and Marley was catching up fast. He’d known when he asked Marley to come out that they would

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end up fishing. Bailey inevitably migrated toward water when she’d had a few drinks. At least it was too shallow to go swimming. Pete sat on the opposite side of the small table. Cards were spread out between them, but they had given up even the pretense of playing when the whiskey-soaked ramblings coming up from the creek had turned vastly entertaining. “It has gotta work with men, too. I’ve been using the wrong kind of bait. I’ve been catching all the good, wholesome stuff with only a bit of fight in it. I don’t want that.” “You don’t want Jory?” “I didn’t say that. What I’ve been getting from him just ain’t enough, so I’ve changed baits. Moving out has stopped him shearing the damn line off every time I think I got him.” “Yeah, you’re just so deprived, getting shut up with orgasms.” “Sarcasm does not become you, Marley. You so need to get laid. You’re really grouchy now.” “So do you, or you wouldn’t be trying to find the right bait to catch the right Jory. That doesn’t even make sense to me. There is no way I’m driving home. Pass me the bottle.” “Open another one. This one must have a hole in it.” Jory checked his watch and whistled softly. The two of them had gone through a half-fifth in two hours. He hoped Bailey opened up soon, or they were going to pass out before he found out anything useful. “So what’s really going on, Bailey?” Jory could have kissed Marley right then. “I was in a bad way when I got here. I’m sure you know. You would have read Doc’s report. You always do.” “Yeah, I never talk about it, though. But yes, I do know.” “I went looking for what I wanted from Jory and ended up caught up in some psycho’s deluded revenge. Now I’ve finally got Jory, but he won’t give me what I need. He’s holding back from me. Out of guilt or some kind of misplaced concern for me, I don’t know, but I

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won’t stand for it anymore.” Her voice rose with indignant fury, “He’s got ’til the weekend. If he doesn’t rise to the bait, I’m going to march into the Kat and ask who is man enough to do what Jory Raines won’t.” “Ouch! That’s gotta smart.” Pete’s voice was a low rumble. “And that’s my cue to make myself scarce. Don’t let either of those two drown, will you? Or sleep outside. It’ll be pouring by breakfast.” “Bailey will be lucky if I don’t drown her myself.” He couldn’t believe she had said that. If she knew he were here, he’d know she said it deliberately to wind him up. But neither of the little drunkards had any idea he was lurking about. Offer herself up at the Kat? Over his dead body. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and punched in some numbers. “Deputy Calhoun.” “Andy. There’s a bit of a problem over at Pete’s place. Unlicensed fishing, drunk and disorderly, I’m sure there’s some trespass involved somewhere.” “Clean up your own mess, Jory. I’m not wrangling a drunken Bailey Verne for love nor money.” “Oh, I’ll take care of her. There’s five-foot-ten of green-eyed brunette I’m not going anywhere near, though.” “Oh shit.” He could almost see Andy covering his eyes and rubbing his temples with one big hand. “How bad is she?” “More than half-full of good whiskey and bad manners. She’s talking about driving home.” Technically true, just missing the “not” part. Jory smiled at the groan coming through loud and clear. “That’s it. I’m gonna lock her up for the night. Sit tight. I’ll be there.” A smile curled his lips as he put the phone back in his pocket. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Just like that, he had kept his side of the bargain with Marley. One night of Andy’s company coming up. She probably hadn’t imagined steel bars between the two of them, but he

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had fulfilled his part. He knew he was being devious, but left to their own devices, Andy and Marley would be still getting around like schoolkids with crushes when they were old and gray. The sooner Marley and Andy ended up together, the better. They were made for each other. A few spots of rain fell on the roof, and Jory decided to go and rescue the drunks before they drowned or passed out in the rain. He wandered down to the cottonwoods growing along the stream, eerily bathed by the moonlight peeping out between the gathering clouds. Oblivious to the rain, they were singing something about “California blondes” and flying. It took him a while to work out it was Gary Allan’s “That Ain’t Gonna Fly” being belted out with a lot more enthusiasm than skill. Bailey’s husky voice sunk right to his bones, but he held himself aloof. She was going to learn her lesson, but not while she was full of enough whiskey for ten men. Something touched his head as he stepped under a branch, and it took a moment to work out it was someone’s shirt. God, almighty, they’d started getting naked! He hoped Andy got here before Marley lost the black bra and panties she was down to. Bailey’s bra was white, and she wore her cutoffs, probably because the little brat had nothing on underneath. He needed to announce his presence now or never. “Evening, ladies.” “See. Told you I’d catch a dirty old carp.” Jory gritted his teeth as Bailey looked about. “Where’s that club I had, Marley? Can you help me throw him up on the bank?” “Come on, brat. Get out of the rain. You, too, Marley. Up to the barn.” Bailey put her hands on her hips and stood her ground. “I’ll stand in the rain if I want to, Jory. You won’t be telling me what to do anymore.” Her curls were dark and damp, sticking to her face here and there. Her nipples stood out in bold relief, casting shadows in the moonlight.

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Jory didn’t break his stride. He grabbed Marley’s hand and kept walking straight toward Bailey. He dropped his shoulder to her midsection and collected her in a fireman’s carry on the way. He was eternally grateful he kept himself in shape as he dragged one and carried another squirming woman up the hill to the barn. The curses coming out of Bailey were enough to blister the paint off the walls as he dropped her to the ground beneath the awning. Ignoring Bailey’s volatile ranting, he took Marley to her vehicle and made her sit on the hood of her zippy little four-by-four. “You, stay there. Andy is going to be here in a minute. Give him hell.” Jory gave her a peck on the forehead and went back to where Bailey was sitting on the ground. She was looking a little green around the gills. “Jory?” “Yeah, brat.” “I think I’m gonna be sick.” He let out a resigned sigh. “Come on. I’ll hold your hair for you.” He guided her into the small but neat bathroom beneath the apartment-like loft. It wasn’t pretty.

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Chapter 9 Jory finished work around two on Friday. He had a definite spring in his step despite only getting a few hours sleep. Bailey had taken some getting up the stairs to Pete’s loft and pouring into bed. As soon as she had emptied her belly, the spark had returned, belligerent and provocative. It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to turn her over his lap and spank her senseless for even contemplating the thought she had voiced about going to the Kat. But he knew where that led. A belligerent and provocative Bailey, he could handle. Add horny to the mix, and a saint wouldn’t have a chance in hell of practicing restraint. Jory had never aspired to sainthood. Bailey had been testing the capacity of the hot water system to its limit, lying in the bottom beneath the balmy stream when Andy had arrived. It had been quite entertaining watching him try to get Marley into the back of his cruiser. That woman had an arm span of damn near six feet, and she had used it to her advantage, groping and rubbing up against the big deputy shamelessly. Andy had taken her away in cuffs and not much else. The black lace bra was trailing behind his car when he left, a lewd decoration hanging from the door seal. He knew he would be hearing about that the next time he ran into Andy. Calhoun needed a shake-up anyway. He let the scars he’d gotten in the accident control his life. Not once in four years had he shown any interest in a woman. Marley chased him harder than ever, but Andy wanted no part of the young, beautiful woman. He’d said

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repeatedly she was too young, too fresh, and too damn naïve. Words Jory had echoed regarding Bailey. He’d been a fool. He’d gotten home around one in the morning, only leaving when Bailey had fallen into a fitful sleep and was no longer a danger to herself. He hoped she’d pay with a hellacious hangover, but she’d cleared her stomach of alcohol and she had always been sickeningly resilient. She had probably bounced out of bed around eight, cooked a big greasy breakfast, and hooked into her day. Smoke trailed lazily from Pete’s chimney, but his truck wasn’t parked in the carport next to the house when Jory swung in the drive. He’d gone home and set up a few last details and showered. He felt fresh and energized, ready to take on whatever the little brat threw at him. But she was in for a rude shock. This time it would be her taking whatever he threw at her. She wanted it all? Tonight she would get it all, every last depraved thought that had ever crossed his mind. He’d made arrangements to ensure her safety. Timed calls from Cal to check up on her. It was a strategy the Keenans insisted on from the most trusted members who were permitted to take subs off the premises. The sub must talk directly to their failsafe at the allotted times. Code words unknown to the Dom that signified “all okay” through to “under duress, come and get me” had to be exchanged. Cal had been amused but cooperative when Jory had asked him to take on that responsibility with Bailey. He’d laughed and asked whether he was supposed to check up on Bailey’s health or his. The world was chock-full of comedians. He pulled the Jeep up beside the barn. The double doors were wide open, letting the afternoon sun stream in. Even over the sound of the motor idling he could hear the loud thump of music, banging and clanging and the neck-ruffling stop-and-start squeal of a grinder. With that much noise, Bailey couldn’t be feeling the slightest bit delicate. He stepped out and leaned against the door of the barn, watching Bailey work. She had Nickelback blaring through the stereo system, a

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far cry from the country and country rock she had listened to at his house. She was bopping around, lost in the music as she worked. The piece clamped in the vise looked like a bootjack from profile view, the kind where you stepped on one end and used the other to lever your boots off. The grinder cut out, and she laid it on the bench and pulled the protective mask off. Her gloved hand went to the piece as the other swung the vise handle and released it. She gave an exultant little nod of satisfaction as she held it up and inspected it from all angles. Jory chuckled in pure mirth. Over the last couple of weeks he had watched her turn out all sorts of items. A beautiful coat rack for Pete with a naked woman silhouetted across the top. Trivets with intimately entwined couples worked on them. Even a metal sign Emma had commissioned for her laundry-door entrance where her men snuck inside, a rip off of one she had seen elsewhere—“If you ain’t God or Toby Keith, take your damn boots off!” All fun, loving pieces, but Bailey had returned to her earlier motif. The bootjack was a large erect cock. You put your foot on the mushroom-shaped head and hooked your boot off in the cleft between the balls. The vein decorating it looked alarmingly familiar. It was more than enough to make a man wince in pure instinctive reflex. She just loved putting dicks in places where they were going to get trodden on. She picked up a remote without turning around and muted the music. “I know you’re there, Jory. I can feel your eyes.” She put the bootjack down on the bench and started clearing up. “If you have only come to look, you can turn right around and head back the way you came.” “Oh, I’ve come to do a hell of a lot more than look, baby.” “Thanks, but no thanks. Been there and done that. You haven’t got what it takes, Jory. We both know that.”

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Talk about a red rag to a bull! Jory didn’t move from his perch against the door. The only thing that moved was his cock. It grew and lengthened at the challenge she threw down. The rest of him knew damn well she was baiting him, just trying to get a rise out of him. Well, it had worked, but she wasn’t looking for that kind of rise. “I’ve got what it takes, baby. It just ticks you off that I won’t do it. You’re an impulsive, hedonistic little brat, and it pisses you right off that I won’t succumb to the same madness.” “You got part of it right, Jory. You do piss me off.” “Tell me that if I stripped off right here, right now, you wouldn’t have your hands on me in five seconds flat.” “I like your body just fine. That’s never been in dispute. It’s that iron-clad self-control I have no time for. You’d strip, I’d lose my mind, and afterwards we would still be in the same shape. It wouldn’t accomplish a damn thing.” Jory lifted his brows. “Well, okay, it would scratch the itch, but nothing more. What I want, you won’t give me.” “You’re going to get it all right, brat. So much of it you won’t know what way is up. You’ve got five minutes to shower and change. Unless you’d prefer to be stripped and hosed off right where you stand. I think you would be able to bottle that sweat coming out of you, it smells like pure ninety proof. It wouldn’t bother me none to have you naked in the Jeep all the way home. Andy’s got a speed trap set up just up the road. It would probably make his day, too.” He watched the emotions play across her narrowed indigo eyes. Disbelief, suspicion, and the barest glimmer of hope. He held her gaze through it all, daring her to take a chance. He saw her chin lift and kept his elation to a slow curl of his lips. Bailey couldn’t resist a dare, nor a chance at his old body again. And that was more gratifying than he had ever imagined. She didn’t speak. She just left a trail of boots and clothes all the way to the bathroom. The last view he had was of her lightly tanned

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ass disappearing around the corner. He sucked in a breath and prayed he would have the balls to follow through. She was getting everything she had asked for tonight. Absolutely everything. There would be no holding back. He’d let her have him at his worst and see just how committed she was. He had a feeling that “red light” would get thrown at him within the first hour. He tossed his phone to her five minutes later when she came out wearing nothing but a challenging look. He grabbed a jacket off the peg. “Put this on and get in the car. Call Callum on the way—speed dial three. You and he have some details to work out. “Don’t question. Just do,” he cut her off when she made to talk. The side of the conversation he could hear was amusing as hell. Bailey was incredulous at having a minder for the night. He pitied Callum having to explain the necessity of it. He chuckled outright when her incredulous “you want me to say what?” reached his ears. Cal would be milking this for every drop of satisfaction available. Bailey blistered his ears as she gave Cal some very detailed instructions about what he could do with his safe phrases and hung up. The woman had no sense of self-preservation. “I’d be nicer to Cal if I were you, brat. He’s your only hope of salvation tonight. The only one who is going to come riding to your rescue when you can’t handle it.” “Yeah, right. I can call you off with a word.” “You just keep telling yourself that, Bailey.” She was silent until he pulled up in front of his house. “If you’re playing with me, Jory, I’m going to use your balls as a bootjack.” “There’s only one way to find out, brat. Are you game?” “Hell, yeah.” As he thought, no self-preservation whatsoever. He walked inside and held the door wide. Indigo eyes flew to the collar that still sat on the table where she had left it. “You haven’t earned the right to put that back on me, Jory.”

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“You haven’t earned the right to wear it. You should have left it on. When you were wearing that, you were my responsibility and you had my protection. Right now, the only protection you have is Cal’s half-hourly calls. Lose the jacket and get downstairs.” The saucy look she threw him as she dropped the jacket and turned affected him almost as much as the rounded ass swaying provocatively with every step. Jory grabbed a few things and followed her down. He didn’t want to miss her reaction when she spotted the changes to his dungeon. **** Bailey froze. The room had been rearranged. Directly lit by strategically placed spotlights, the modified spanking bench gripped her with fear. Wooden stocks had been mounted over it. Uncompromising hardwood lined with leather and bound with iron. In the mirror across from her, she saw Jory at her back, his face mocking. “Run away and hide, little girl. You’re clearly not up to it after all.” He took off his shirt and hooked it over the doorknob. Despite her fear, her body liquefied at the sight of his mouthwatering physique. The heat radiating off him was electric, sending fissions of desire coursing through her blood. “I’ve told you before, Jory—you don’t scare me.” “So you say. Get on the bench.” The touch of his gaze was a tangible weight as she crossed to the bench that had brought her so much pleasure and climbed on. He didn’t watch her body as he usually did. No, he was watching her face for signs that she meant to break and run. That realization was enough to put a little starch in her backbone. She lifted her chin in defiance as she settled onto the bench. His smirk said she was full of shit. e wasn’t far wrong.

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“I’ve come to realize I have been denying myself a lot of pleasure with you, brat.” He crossed to stand before her and opened the archaic restraining device. “There’s no reason at all why I should hold back. Just because I come doesn’t mean I have to let you. I’ve been too indulgent. You have gotten way too many orgasms at my hand, Bailey. Tonight is my turn. Get in the stocks, Bailey. I want to fuck that hot little mouth of yours.” Bailey hesitated, caught between the erotic promises he made and her fear of being so completely helpless. Her mind was made up by the tanned hands reaching for his belt buckle and the quirt-style strap that hung from one wrist. She loved the kiss of wide leather against her skin, and his strap was the perfect width and length. He’d proven in Denver he could wield it with skill and precision. He used enough force to leave marks that bloomed into silken bruises but never to break the skin. She placed her wrists in the padded receptacles and lowered her head, watching his icy blue eyes heat with every inch she lowered her head until she could no longer see them. But a much more arresting sight met her gaze. Blood-darkened and proud, his cock stood at rigid attention in the gap of his unzipped jeans. The closing of the stocks was lost in the hunger she felt. Need pulsed between her legs and through her very veins. She licked her lips, starving to taste the droplet that dampened the small slit atop the thickly flared head. His big hand reached out and grabbed the curls that rioted over her brow. “Completely helpless, brat. I can spear my cock straight down your throat, and there’s not a thing you can do about it.” The devil made Bailey snap her teeth. She couldn’t help it. “Use your teeth, and I’ll leave you here for an hour to learn a lesson. I’ve got a nice vibrating butt plug for teaching naughty little girls not to bite. It will stretch you further than you can imagine and keep up a teasing vibration that will make you so desperate to come you’ll be crying for it.”

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That was a deterrent? Unfortunately her face must have shown her lack of concern. “Have you seen dental clamps before, Bailey?” Fear gripped her at that. She had seen the cruel forceps used on a sub that had bitten. They forced the mouth to stay wide open, leaving no control whatsoever about what was placed in the mouth. “Yes.” “Good. Then you know there are ways of making you comply.” His large hand wrapped around the darkened shaft, and he lowered the head to within an inch of her mouth. Bailey strived to reach it, her tongue flickering desperately. “So eager. I like that. Let me tilt the bar a bit.” The board encompassing her neck and wrists tilted, bringing her head a little more upright. Her eyes met his at the new angle. “That’s it, brat. Keep your eyes on mine. Seeing you helpless like this really stirs my creativity.” “Is that what you’re calling it now?” Bailey’s eyes went meaningfully to the part that was stirred the most. “You talk too much.” Bailey really approved of his way of silencing her. Salty musk blasted across her taste buds and short-circuited all cognitive function. His primal male heat slid between her lips and glided over her tongue. She couldn’t hold back the groan of desire that rumbled from her throat and slid her eyes closed. Jory echoed it, and her eyes sprang open. She didn’t want to miss a second of his reaction. She hungered with the need to see ecstasy wash across his face as he finally gave in and took his own pleasure of her bound and helpless body. Cream dampened her inner thighs, and her clit pulsed with a life of its own as he nudged deeper into her mouth. Helpless and at his mercy was exactly where she wanted to be. Her body had become so accustomed to the sheer power he had over its pain and pleasure that it didn’t matter that he wasn’t touching her below the neck. Nipples throbbed, engorged and tightened as her body rocked with the rhythm he set of its own accord. Deprived inner muscles clamped uselessly, grasping to be filled. Her whole body was on fire with her need for

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him, yet it rated a distant second to the need to see him surrender to the demons he kept on such a tight leash. Bailey flicked her tongue across the flared rim and over what part of the shaft she could reach, welcoming each intrusion. The remarkable light blue of his eyes burned with an unearthly fire. His gaze was fixed on the blood-darkened cock that stretched her mouth. He had loosened the reins of his self-control but not thrown caution to the wind. Bailey wanted him wild. She renewed her efforts, doubling the suction as he pulled back. She was rewarded by the sound of his breath hissing in between his teeth and a deeper thrust that kissed the back of her throat. That was more like it. Breathing deep through her nose, she willed her throat to relax, swallowing the saliva buildup when he withdrew. He pushed back in faster, breaking the rhythm, and she swallowed on the head of his cock, fighting the urge to gag as her throat protested. “Oh, fuck! That feels like a wet fist squeezing me.” His deep voice grated roughly across her jagged nerves, a needful timbre she ached to hear more of. Doing it again proved harder than she thought. Her body had built-in protection mechanisms that even her great need had trouble in overcoming. It was all in the timing. He held deep the next time her throat contracted around him. Bailey fought every instinct to hold still and watch the fevered pleasure flash through his face—the clenched teeth, the painful grimace, the mottling of lust that covered his high cheekbones. Water streaming from her eyes forced her to blink, and Jory withdrew a split second before panic at not being able to breathe overtook her. Concern and guilt washed over his features, and he made to pull away. Bailey gave him the edge of teeth and growled. No fucking way was she letting him call it off now. He gave her a nod, the slightest hint of a smile curling the corner of his mouth, a silent “touché,” and fed his cock back into her mouth.

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Frustration grew as she couldn’t move her head to take him deeper. She wanted him gloriously uninhibited in his pleasure. One small taste wasn’t enough. She begged with her eyes, making hungry noises, buzzing his cockhead with the vibrations. He didn’t hold back for long. He was soon butting the back of her throat with every thrust, whispering heated promises of sinful ecstasy. Bailey lost herself in his pleasure, nothing mattering but hearing a cry of completion as he gave in to her mouth. He tasted close, so blissfully close. A constant supply of salty tang had her tongue working overtime, collecting every drop leaking past his precious control. Her body gathered in sympathy, reaching for a peak it could not attain without his help. “You want to come so bad, baby, but you’re not allowed this time. You are going to take everything I dish out tonight. Every. Last. Fucking. Thing.” His seed hit the back of her mouth, and Bailey swallowed convulsively, her tongue poking the fissure, looking for more the moment he pulled back far enough for her to breathe. A shadow of rapture rolled through her body. Not orgasm, but so fucking close she didn’t care. She felt strong, invincible, empowered with feminine might. There was nothing weak about submitting. His surrender was so irrefutable it made her bondage immaterial. Bailey held his gaze and ran her tongue over her lips as he stepped back and got the slightly exasperated smile she was looking for, with more than a touch of appreciation shading it. The only thing better than looking into Jory’s eyes with the height of his need upon him was seeing lazy satiation in the icy blue depths. It didn’t last long, though. “You look so proud of yourself, baby. Like you think you have the upper hand.” His hands went to the sides of the stocks and released the locking mechanism. “Have a drink and ring Cal. It’s a few minutes early, but I don’t want him interrupting what I have planned next.”

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A shudder ran through Bailey as she stepped off the bench. Her thighs were sinfully wet, sliding slickly against one another as she walked to the side table where the phone and a couple of bottles of water sat. She took a long drink and then punched in the number. Jory had his eyes on the wet shine between her legs, so she put one foot up on the chair, deliberately taunting him while she spoke to Cal Keenan. She had the satisfaction of seeing Jory choke as she gave Cal the phrase he had insisted on hearing if everything was progressing to her satisfaction. “I praise you, oh great and noble one with the huge cock.” Hell, she nearly choked saying it. Cal, on the other hand, was vastly amused, his deep chuckle coming through loud and clear before she hung up. “Don’t ask.” “I hadn’t planned on it. Get back on the bench.” Bailey complied, tilting her hips as she climbed up and giving him a healthy view of her engorged and dripping folds. The slap that landed fair on her clit was unexpected and brutal. A startled cry ripped from her lips before her body had a chance to process the sting and reward her with pleasure. She clenched her teeth and sucked in air even as her wanton body reacted to the pain. Her ruched nipples contracted sharply, and her cunt tightened in unadulterated lust. Bailey rode out the seductive pain and tilted for another. “Nope. I ain’t stupid, brat. If I land another one on that greedy little pussy, you’ll come for sure. I told you, you’re going without until I say otherwise.” His amused tones rolled through her, quaking her loins as he came to stand before her. “Get back in the stocks if you don’t want to quit.” Bailey went in with a smile this time.

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Chapter 10 Pride and sheer admiration of her courage rocked Jory. Her fear had been real. He’d been damn near able to taste the metallic dryness of adrenaline that had assaulted her at the sight of the stocks. The thump of her heart had beaten a visible tattoo against her ribs, and yet she had wrapped all that stubborn bravado around her and allowed herself to be captured by the apparatus that she associated with terror and degradation. He shook his head. He shouldn’t have been that surprised. Bailey had always had that terrier mentality. That slightly twisted urge to throw down with a grin when the odds were stacked against her. She’d welcome defeat with open arms as long as she got to take a piece of her opponent with her. The problem with Bailey was that she wanted not just the piece she had already snared—he’d bid his heart good-bye years ago—but she wanted his demons, too. She wanted every dark and driven part of him, parts he had kept carefully leashed ever since he had acknowledged their existence. It was what she was prepared to face to achieve it that held Jory by the balls. She knew no boundaries, professed not to be scared by him, and so far she had held it true. Not once had she feared him. Even with his cock cutting off her air supply, hunger had been in her watering eyes until the last moment. Her panic had been at a visceral level. She’d fought it and her primal instincts to strive to hold him deep. She was a fucking miracle. He secured her legs with the Velcro straps and cranked the handle that spread her knees. He took her wide, making sure she couldn’t get

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any purchase to rub that angry-looking clit on and enough room for him to stand between them. The bud stuck out from between her pouting lips like a tiny glazed cherry, engorged and slick with syrup. His tongue swept his lips reflexively. He was on his knees before he knew he’d moved, her dripping folds one decadent thought from the end of his tongue. Giving a mental shake, he went to rise, but he stopped short. This was about him indulging. As long as she didn’t come, it was for his benefit. He grabbed a footstool, pulling it to where he wanted, and sat down with his shoulders between her spread knees. A glance in the mirror showed her delighted anticipation. She obviously thought he had caved. “You’re awfully wet, brat. I was going to get some lube to stretch your ass, but I don’t think I’ll need it.” He thrust one finger into her searing heat, the caress of the tight, satiny cunt walls taking him by surprise. She was on fire. “Fuck, you’re hot. You need cooling down, baby, but first”—he withdrew his finger and painted the thick, rich cream over her anus before dipping deep for more—“let’s see you take this.” He slid his finger into the dark entrance, feeling the sphincter tighten impossibly and strive to deny him access, but it was no defense against his well-lubricated digit. A ripple spread along her back as her spine lengthened and she relaxed into his invasion. Her face showed slack pleasure, her lips parted and eyelids heavy as indigo slits showed beneath. She watched him shamelessly. Blood began to pool in his wellsated cock at her brazen regard. If he weren’t so self-assured, he’d have blindfolded the wretch. She would challenge the confidence of a lesser Dom. He was glad she watched. He wanted to see the riot his next surprise would cause. He tugged over the container he had brought downstairs with him. Her eyes followed every move. The sound of ice grating on ice sent a different sort of shiver along her

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spine. Disbelief widened her eyes. “You wouldn’t! Jory, you’re kidding. Don’t do it!” He gave an evil grin and swiped the ice cube from one end of her folds to the other. Her ass spasmed and jerked around his finger as she protested the frosty caress. “I told you you were too hot.” An honest-to-god squeal peeled from her throat when he slipped the piece of ice inside her molten cunt. He expected to hear it sizzle against her slick heat, but instead he got to feel it succumb to the fiery envelopment when it melted inside her. Its diminishment was patently obvious through the membrane beneath his finger. And so much fun he did it again. “So cold! You’re freezing me, Jory.” “How about I warm it up a little then?” Jory laid a big suckling kiss on her chilled pussy. His tongue speared deep to touch the cube he had just slid inside her. He sucked it into his mouth and moved further beneath her. He gave her clit a pursed-lip kiss before laying the sliver of ice in his mouth atop the throbbing bundle of nerves. She yelled and writhed at the direct assault. He chuckled and moved back, sliding his finger from her ass. Blotting up the water with a towel, he listened to her suck in desperate breaths and curse him with every second one. The icing had made her mad as hell, but it achieved its purpose of moving her away from the orgasm she perpetually hovered upon the edge of. “That was just for fun, brat.” He cupped her still-cool mound and warmed it with his big hand. “Now it’s time to get serious.” He slicked two fingers with lube, knowing she wouldn’t notice the slight chill after the ice cubes’ arctic kiss, and worked them into her tight back passage. Her grip relaxed as she breathed out, and he was able to work more lube into her. There was a big difference between erotic pain and just plain agony, and enough lube could make that difference. Indigo eyes opened wide when he picked up a butt plug. Jory smiled. He knew it was big, but if she wanted his cock, she had to

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take that first. He saw her throat bob as she swallowed before boldly meeting his gaze. She was brave, he’d give her that. Still scared shitless, but she wasn’t going to let that interfere with her professed need to have him. “Big, ain’t it?” He ran the rubberized plug down her flank, watching her writhe. “But it isn’t quite as wide as my cock. If you want me, you have to take this first, and no one’s touching that clit to make it easier this time. I want to see you take it cold. See that bite cross your face when there’s no pleasure to dilute it. “Going to cry off? Or do you think you can take it?” “Looking for a way out, are you, Jory?” He was kind of hoping she would give him one actually, but that hope was clearly misplaced. He pressed the lubed plug against her slick star. His gaze was torn between watching her open up and take the plug and watching her face. He settled on her face this time. He’d watch her ass swallow his cock if she didn’t cut and run first. Sharp white teeth bit down on her plump bottom lip as the toy breached her. Her eyes slid closed. He rocked the toy sharply within her, startling them back open. “Keep them open, brat. I want you to watch me. You haven’t been shy so far. Don’t start now.” Keeping his eyes on her face, he pressed and retreated, feeding the toy deeper with every advance. He didn’t touch her clit, but he found he was unable to refrain from giving her the comfort of some touch. Jory ran his hand the length of her back slowly and firmly before reversing the stroke. Her lids struggled to stay up at the soothing caress. The widest point of the plug reached her outer ring, and she gasped and paled but did not squirm away. Her ribs expanded sharply, drawing a deep breath, and then she let it out slowly. Jory watched with growing hunger as she pushed against him and the toy lodged safely in her grip. There was no hint of pain on her face now. A frenzied kind of wildness imbued it. “Talk to me, brat. How does that feel?”

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“Take it out and do it over. I want to feel it settle in again.” A smile curled his lips at the raw greed in her voice. “This bit?” He tugged the toy just to the widest point and let her body suck it in again. “Oh, God yes!” Deep and ragged, her voice wrapped around his cock and stroked it back to full tumescence. He repeated the maneuver for no other reason than to hear her pleasure. She didn’t disappoint him with the full-throated groan it elicited. “God, you sound sexy! I think I can get more noise than that out of you, though.” He didn’t give her any warning, just brought the wrist strap down to stripe both cheeks. The yell ended in a long, low moan, which was all the encouragement he needed to keep going. Jory spaced the hits carefully. He didn’t want her falling into an endorphin haze completely. He wanted her fully lucid when he slid inside her. The perfect blow landed on the bottom edge of her ass, wrapping the thigh so that the very tip of the double-stitched leather stung her folds. His cock fed on the sounds that drew from her, indescribable noises of purely pained carnality that grew into a fevered begging for more. He obliged, laying a matching stripe beneath the other cheek. Her cry echoed off the ceiling before falling into heated pleas. “Let me come, please, Jory, I need to come, just a little one.” A little one? He’d never seen Bailey settle for a so-called little one yet. “You’re not coming until my dick is buried balls-deep in this tight little ass of yours, brat.” “Do it! I don’t care if it hurts, I just need to come.” “Mmm, sounds like you need cooling off again.” And so did he. She had damn near brought him undone with her begging. Her abuse fairly scorched the air when he stepped away and came back with more ice. He slid it the full length of her folds before slipping it into her heated well. The ringing of the phone was only just audible over her screech of complaint. Jory glanced at the clock. Cal was as punctual as ever.

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He answered the call, knowing it would be a minute or two before Bailey got beyond the vile imprecations she was hurling at him. “Hey, Cal.” He knew he sounded gleeful, but he just couldn’t help it. “Good lord! Is that Bailey?” “That’s her. She keeps trying to steal orgasms, so I cooled her off.” “You iced her?” “Yeah. The entertainment cannot be overestimated.” “So I can hear. Is she up to talking to me?” “Why not, then she can abuse you, too.” Jory held the phone up to her ear. “Here, talk to Cal or he will come and get you now and spoil all our fun.” He chuckled delightedly as Bailey vented at Cal before resigning herself to the protocol and telling him once more he had a huge cock. Jory shook his head—Cal didn’t pass up a chance for kicks of any sort. After returning the phone to the table, he stepped behind Bailey’s blushing ass and stroked her back, running his hands over the red lines that crossed it here and there. Her ass was more heavily striped, and he didn’t call her to task for closing her eyes as she soaked up his touch this time but used her distraction to unfasten his jeans without her knowledge. The bench was raised to the perfect height, and the first inkling she had that he had released his cock was his flesh parting hers as he forged into her slightly cooled pussy. He gritted his teeth. The ice had tightened her further than orgasm alone did, making him have to fight his way in. Holding deep inside her, he stilled, savoring the bizarre sensation of her chilly, tight cunt heating up fast around his cock. It didn’t take but a few seconds for the wetness of the melted ice to be replaced by hot, syrupy cream. He pulled back, relishing the heavy slide before thrusting deep and pressing the extra length she didn’t take without some show of force inside her. Jory made sure his balls only grazed her clit. He

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wanted to see how hot she could burn rather than have her race to completion, taking her pleasure instead of waiting for him to bestow it. Two hard-driving thrusts and he pulled out, watching her flesh clench at nothing and delighting in the wail of disappointment that filled the air. It was swiftly followed by more abuse. “Jory, I’m going to stomp all over that cock of yours if you don’t fuck me properly. I want it now. Don’t hold back on me.” She was fighting the restraints in her frustration. “Stop hurting yourself or you won’t get it back at all.” He rested his cockhead at the gates of her slick cunt, satisfaction filling him as she came to a halt. He didn’t want her marked, and the way she was fighting, she was going to end up with a bruised face once more, albeit for very different reasons to last time. Her pleasure could cause her to damage herself just as surely as pain and fear. A long, slow glide was her reward. Painfully slow. He stopped at the height of the stroke, hips thrust forward to hold him in place. His hand bit into her hip as he grasped to lean back, bringing his other hand up. One long finger was captured by his thumb, and he gave the base of the butt plug a forceful flick. Bailey’s breath exploded from her body, and he sucked his in. Unrighteous vibrations played havoc down the length of his cock. Unable to resist, he did it several times in quick succession before abruptly jerking from her body once more. “Ahhhgh! Quit being so damn in control and just fuck me!” For the first time in his life, Jory contemplated the value of a gag. It was vastly entertaining and hotter than hell to hear her threats and curses along with her cries of pain and pleasure, but it did put a serious strain on his intentions. “But the thing is, I’m not in control at all, Bailey. I’m just doing what you do—whatever the hell I like. And right now I like to tease. You’re not nearly hungry enough to come yet.”

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He leaned along her back and latched hold of the skin high on one shoulder and bit down. It was no light nip. “See. Whatever the hell I want. I’m being impulsive and pleasing only me. Isn’t that what you do?” A resounding crack filled the air as he brought his palm down on the side of her buttock. “I asked you a question.” “Yes. No. I don’t know.” “You made this all about my control because you thought that would get you what you want, but unleashing my demons won’t get you fucked anytime soon, Bailey. They like to play. A lot. They don’t go for the fast kill, baby. They are going to take you way beyond what you thought desperate was. I don’t think you can take it,” A flick to the base of the plug brought forth a grunt of suppressed need. “Can you?” “I can take anything you can dish out.” Fire flashed from her indigo eyes as she spoke through gritted teeth. “I think you’re all talk, Bailey, but I’ll see how far you’re willing to go to perpetuate it.” He slammed back inside her, taking her breath with the brutal thrust. “I want to fuck you until you’re just about to come and then pull out. I’ll make you swallow my cum, baby. How would you like that, deprived of your pleasure and then forced to watch and swallow mine? No, you’d get off on that. Maybe I’ll pull out and spurt it all over your back. You’ll feel the hot seed rain down like molten wax and know you aren’t getting me inside you again anytime soon.” Jory watched the effect his words were having on her. Hell, he could feel it! Blistering juices coated his balls and ran down his shaft every time he pulled back. He wouldn’t give her any rhythm, wouldn’t chance her finding her peak. But he soaked up every bit of frustrated need she radiated and angled for more. If he hadn’t gone earlier in her mouth, he could have come ten times since, but he was having way too much fun to cut it short by blowing it now.

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“You have gone awfully quiet, babe. Don’t be holding back on me now.” Jory pulled back on the plug while he was cooling off away from her desperate grip. The groan as it slipped back in was as satisfying as any he had wrung from her. “Quit stalling, you know you want to fuck it.” “The brat is back! You had me worried for a moment. I thought I might have finally found a way to make you yield.” “I’ll yield if you quit using a toy to do a man’s job.” “Diggin’ deep now, aren’t you, baby?” “Not as deep as you will be when you finally quit stalling and fuck me.” Jory thought about gagging her with his cock, but the desperation in her voice told him she had gone past giving a flying fuck about the repercussions of using her teeth. She was getting wild enough to use them seriously, too. It didn’t matter how he punished her afterwards—he’d still have teeth marks in his cock. No, he’d give her what she had been wanting for weeks now. He didn’t pull the plug out gently. He ripped it from her grasp and sunk himself in her loosened grip before she had a chance to tighten. They both froze like erotic carvings when his balls pressed tight against her pussy. Oh, Christ! He hadn’t meant to take her that deep! Concerned eyes locked onto the mirror. Hers were closed, her head thrown as far back as the stocks allowed. Her lips were drawn back in a rictus of agony. Her breath hissed between her clenched teeth. “Oh, baby.” Jory went to pull out, but her frantic “don’t” stilled him. Fuck, he’d hurt her so much she couldn’t stand his withdrawal. “Don’t move, yet.” Her voice was breathy but surer. She wiggled a little. A shimmy that stole his breath and seated him even more firmly within her. “Oh, God. That is incredible.” Her voice echoed his thoughts, making his cock throb in its viselike, silken-flesh prison. “I want to move. Let me move, Jory.”

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“How about I move, baby? Just slow and gentle until you get used to it.” Jory inched out of her, sliding easily in the copious lubrication he had prepared her with. Nearly all the way out, he looked down and was met with the savagely erotic sight of his cock protruding from her stretched rosebud. He could feel her inner ring tugging at his corona. He rocked forward and back over the constriction, trying to duplicate the feeling that had set her on fire with the plug slipping behind her muscles. “Fuck! Jory! It’s too much! You’re killing me.” Her head tossed wildly, fighting the sensation. “Killing you good, or killing you bad?” “Oh, good, so fucking good.” The problem was that it was too fucking good for him, too. He sank deep, in total wonder that she took his full length. He luxuriated in the dark seduction of her nefarious embrace before withdrawing to the point where his broad crown stimulated her sensitive outer reaches. He could get lost in her, forget everything but the pleasure, but he wanted it to be her pleasure, too, and he wasn’t going to succumb to the tight clasp of her body until he felt her quake around the hungry cock impaled in that tight little ass. Releasing his hold on her hip, he leaned over her and gripped the top of the stocks with one hand and slid the other hand beneath her body to cup her mons. She was so fucking wet it felt like his fingers slid into molten syrup. Silken-wet heat that had him starving for a taste. He bought his hand up, looking at the cream clinging to his fingers, and wiped it fair across her shoulders before the digits returned to their quest. As they slid between her pussy lips, he lowered his head and swiped his tongue in a long, thick stroke, lapping up the line of her arousal like a drug addict chasing a fix. Her rich, sweet musk hit his senses and he thrust a little harder. “Fuck, babe. You taste like fuckin’ heaven.”

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Lost in her slick and dripping folds, his fingers swirled and dipped, looking to send her over before he did her any damage by losing his mind and thrusting like a man possessed. There was too much cream to get any friction on her clit, and she had been pushed too far for a soft touch now. “Come for me,” he growled against her back, chasing every last trace of her summery taste with his needy tongue and sharp teeth. “I can’t. I need more.” Her panting was frantic, so desperate. A desperation echoed in her wild eyes and the agonized need on her face. More of what? He had nothing left to give. “Slap it.” It was an order, but fucked if he could find the will to deny it. He brought his syrupy-wet fingers down hard against the overstimulated bundle of nerves. A loud, audibly wet smack. “Harder, more.” Her husky demands were going to be the death of him. He growled and cut loose, hammering into the white-hot heaven of her ass as his hand rained down hell on her slick and swollen clit. His demons roared exultantly. All thought fell to the wayside as he fiercely chased his own pleasure. A full-throttled scream exploded from her ruby lips and grabbed him by the balls, sending his seed hurtling up and out as the biggest orgasm of his life plowed through him. A wrecking ball of pure ecstasy bowled him over and blew him apart. Her forbidden embrace milked him, squeezing with a molten, quivering pulse that threatened what little was left of his sanity. He had just enough reason left to flick the release on the stocks and pull her up to him. He enfolded her tightly, bowing his body around her. Her fevered back pressed slickly against his heaving chest, his arms wrapped tight around her. Jory sucked in air against her shoulder, drawing huge gasping breaths as he struggled to relearn how to breathe. He hoped to

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hell he hadn’t hurt her in his frenzied need. All conscious thought had departed there at the end. It took him a moment to realize she was purring. Bailey Verne was a freaking miracle! He’d given her his worst, and she had not only taken it but loved it. “You’re never getting away from me again, baby. That collar is going back on, and I’m gonna weld the fucking thing on there.” That got a chuckle from her but also a wince. He slid gently from her body and pushed the stocks out of the way so that she could rest along the upper bench. He followed her down. He was loath to have her skin away from him for a second longer than necessary. Splayed over her exhausted body, he felt whole. His demons purred in concert with the woman beneath him. Faced with all that satisfaction, he couldn’t muster any guilt over his capitulation. He could only bask in the well-sated afterglow of the most amazing experience he had ever been privileged to share. He nuzzled against her ear. “I love you, Bailey. You’re a brat, but you’re all mine.” **** Bailey luxuriated in the feel of all that hard flesh pressed to her well-used body. She was going to be sore tomorrow, but that was a price she would pay a hundred times over for the ultimate pleasure Jory had gifted her with. The pleasure of witnessing his total abandonment overrode the earth-shattering climax he had forged and strengthened time and time again by denial. His demons had surfaced, exulted, and taken heavenly charge, freeing him from the constraints of his inhuman self-control. Dark and driven she had expected, but the playful tease was a surprise aspect of his complex psyche. He could be just as selfish and impudent as he had often accused her of being. Bailey loved every part of him.

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The trill of the phone made them groan in total accord. Jory stirred and reached for it with one long arm rather than lifting from her. The deep rumble of his chest against her back made Bailey arch her neck and shudder deliciously despite her complete satiation. “Here, baby. Tell Cal where to go before he keeps calling us all night.” The phone was pressed to her ear. “Mmm?” “Oh, God, you sound just as disgustingly happy as he does! That’s wrong. You know you have stolen my star attraction, don’t you, Bailey?” “Mmm. You’re not getting him back either.” “I’m never going to hear you tell me I have a huge cock again, am I?” “Not in this lifetime.” “Tell me what I want to hear then.” “Cal?” “Yeah?” “Fuck off.” Bailey pressed the button before he could gloat any further. Jory chuckled sleepily and took the phone from her. “I don’t want to move, babe, but my knees are going to collapse soon.” Bailey remained pressed to the bench, calmly waiting. She knew he wouldn’t let her move until he took care of her anyway. His warm hand spread over her hip a second before the touch of a damp cloth cleansed her thighs and wiped her folds from front to back. This time she didn’t have to fight the need to squirm under his intimate touch. She was too exhausted to be embarrassed and too comfortable with Jory now to care. Cuddled up with Jory beneath the quilt in the big armchair, Bailey couldn’t ever remember feeling as complete. “Jory?” “Mmm?” She looked up at him as he opened one eye, raising the brow, rather than lifting the lid. “I want a kiss, and I’m too lazy to reach up and take it.”

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His indulgent smile before he bent over her warmed her heart. His kiss was heavenly, silken lips plucking and caressing hers. For the first time ever, she enjoyed his kiss without feeling her libido scream for more. He lifted his head with a slow smile. “I never thought I would see the day you would be happy just to let me hold you, love.” “You have finally found the secret to it.” Jory’s deep groan thundered against her. “If it takes that every time, you’re gonna kill me in a week.” “I reckon you’ve got a month or two in you. Now are you going to carry me up those stairs, or are we sleeping here?” “Go to sleep, brat.” Bailey closed her eyes and complied, a smile touching her heart as well as her lips.

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Chapter 11 All of Bailey’s possessions chose the next day to turn up. She was not impressed. She wanted to do nothing but hide under the blankets with Jory and savor the laid-back intimacy the night before had lent. All the frustrated urgency was gone for now. It was like a satisfied afterglow that was in no hurry to depart. Jory did his share of grumbling as he slipped out of bed, too. They’d eaten around midnight after dozing in the dungeon chair and then dragged themselves through the shower and into bed. Bailey was more than a little sore as she rose from bed, but she strived to hide it. If Jory had even an inkling he had caused her any harm, she would never get to taste his unbridled fervor again. He gave her a rueful grin and kissed her brow. “Nice try, brat. Go and soak in the bath. I’ll bring you some coffee after I show these guys where to unload this stuff.” Bailey didn’t argue. The steaming water soothed her aches, and Jory made an awesome cup of java. It was even better when he stripped off and slid behind her in the big tub ten minutes later. She gave him curious eyes. “They lost your stuff and turned up two weeks late—they can unpack it all themselves.” Bailey settled back against his chest. The hard wall of warm, sinewy muscle was much more comfortable than the enameled-steel tub side. Water sloshed over the top as the level rose, but neither made a move to drain any out. The hair on his thigh felt rough beneath her palm when she caressed the lean length. “This feels good. I don’t want to move.” “Where are you sore, baby?”

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“My arms and shoulders are achy from fighting the restraints, and my butt is a little tender.” “I’m not surprised, I wasn’t exactly easy on you last night.” His fingers splayed over her shoulders and kneaded softly. Bailey moaned softly and let her head drop forward to give him better access. He had magic hands. “I’ll be gentler next time.” “Don’t hold back on my account. Last night was worth every ache.” “Have you noticed I haven’t apologized?” His thumb swept up the side of her nape and she couldn’t contain a louder moan. “Mmm” “You’re not hearing a word I’m saying, are you?” “Less talk, more touching.” “You’re like a little cat, rubbing and arching into my hand.” “Want me to purr?” “I heard plenty of that last night. Plenty of that, too,” he added as the phone trilled. They ignored it the first time, but when it rang again, Jory slipped from the bath. Bailey watched as he briskly dried that divine body off and walked from the room, wrapping a towel around his slender hips. He wandered back with the phone and leaned against the doorframe, doing a whole lot more listening than talking. His attention was firmly fixed on the conversation, and Bailey used his distraction to ogle his fine body uninterrupted. She wished she wasn’t feeling so delicate, because she would love to trace every well-defined muscle with the tip of her tongue and sip the water beading in the hollow above each collarbone. Her gaze returned to his face to find her the subject of an amused look. She mentally shrugged. She was shameless in her love of his body. He’d get used to it soon enough. There had to be a name for the muscles that curled along the top of his hips and disappeared under his towel, but she couldn’t remember it if she had ever heard it. The sexy ridges pointed in like

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damn arrows at the bulge growing under the towel. Love handles? Mark had called his love handles, but they’d been soft and grabbable. Jory’s were hard enough that she couldn’t get a grip with anything but her teeth. She ran her tongue between her teeth, wishing it were Jory’s flesh. Sensual hunger was building fast despite a deep ache that told her sex of any sort was going to be the wrong kind of hurt. It took a moment or two for her to realize the phone was held in one hand beside his hip. How long ago the conversation had stopped was beyond her. She hoped her face showed more intelligence than she was feeling right then, because Jory’s body stole her wits. “I would love to take you up on that offer your eyes have been making, but you’re too sore. I do admire your courage, though, brat. We have got somewhere else to be. That was Andy. He wants us to come in to the station. They think they’ve caught him.” Bailey didn’t have to ask who. She slid from the tub. The turn in the conversation had killed the rising ardor dead. “Um, Jory?” “Yeah, baby?” “Can you go and get one of the boxes with clothes in them? I don’t seem to have any.” He laughed and promised to find them after he got some on himself. **** Andy was sitting behind his computer, fingers flying and a look of utter concentration on his scarred visage. They slipped behind the counter and made it all the way to his side before he processed their presence. “Hell, Jory! Don’t be sneaking up on a man like that.” Bailey saw what looked like surveillance footage on the screen before he shut it down. A tall, naked brunette behind bars. “Oh my God! Was that Marley?” “Was what Marley?”

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He had a decent poker face, but she had the master to compare it to. “The very nude woman who was dancing against the bars on your computer just now.” Jory roared with laughter. “You’re trying to get rid of the evidence, aren’t you?” “Damn digital recording. It’s not like the old days where you could just rewind and tape over them again. I’ve got to wait until the surveillance footage gets archived next week and then make it disappear. I hope no one stumbles across it in the meantime. Marley is a spoiled little shit, but I don’t want every cop in the state ogling that fine ass.” He coughed and reddened as he realized what he had said. Bailey found his blush endearing. “It’s okay, Andy. You’ll come ’round eventually. Marley is as persistent as you are stubborn.” “It’s all your fault, Bailey. She only drinks when she’s with you. I can handle her sober, but she doesn’t know when to quit when she’s drunk.” “Did you keep her on the other side of the bars all night?” “Of course I did! Do you think I’m stupid?” “You’re male, that goes without saying, but she is going to be seriously pissed now. I’d start sleeping with one eye open, Andy.” Jory pressed his heat against her back and rested his hand on her hip. Bailey couldn’t help but arch into him. “Leave him alone, brat. We didn’t come here for you to pick on the deputy.” He kissed her hair and turned his attention to Andy. “You have something for Bailey to look at?” “Yeah. These came through from Denver last night. They have arrested a suspect in the club ram-raiding case. They have sent a digital lineup here for you to look over. If they have got the right guy, you’ll need to go down there and make it official, but it is no good you going all the way down there if he is not our guy.” Bailey relaxed. She could do this. She’d done it at Shivers, and she could do it now for Andy, as long as Jory stayed right where he

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was. His touch steadied her and imbued her with strength. “Let’s see it then.” Andy pulled up a digital lineup, full body shots with larger facial images below. Bailey had no trouble identifying the driver of the truck who had given her so many nightmares. “Second from the left. No doubt about it.” “Great, let me make a call, and we’ll find out where we go from here.” The warmth of Jory’s hands weren’t enough. She pulled them around her until she was firmly in his arms. He didn’t object, just held her tighter. The solid heat of him at her back was a comforting presence, as strong and steadfast as the reassuring beat of his heart. The wait was interminable while Andy spoke to his counterparts in Colorado. Eventually he put the phone back on the cradle. “The DA’s office would like you down there first thing Monday morning. Your identification is enough for an indictment, but they want a formal statement. Craig Weston and Latisha Edwards have been extremely helpful in providing surveillance footage of him staking out several of the clubs. Damien Young will be facing two counts of murder, and they are still adding up the other charges. They got him, Bailey.” She could see the exultation on his face. Andy wore the uniform because he believed in it. Nothing was more important to him than putting the bad guys behind bars and keeping the world safer for his people. He took it personally if something happened on his watch. “Thank you for chasing up on it. I don’t think they were taking me very seriously until you started hounding them about it.” “They took it seriously. Don’t worry about that. I just shifted it a little higher on their list of priorities. When are you driving down?” Bailey craned her neck back to look up at Jory. “I’ll head down tomorrow and stay at a motel for an early start. You can stay here. I’ve put a big enough hole in your vacation hours.”

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“At least take my Jeep. I’ll be worried the whole time if you take your old piece of shit.” Bailey ignored his dig at her old car, but he was right, it would be foolish to expect the old girl to make the trip when there were better alternatives, not to mention air conditioning and a decent stereo. “Okay, I can live with that.” “Jory, I saw some movement at your dad’s place this morning. Some tiny little thing that didn’t look old enough to be out of high school was poking around. Should I be moving her on?” “No. Just keep an eye out for her. I’ll head over and introduce myself tomorrow.” “Before or after I leave?” Bailey asked. “After, I think. I’m not that scary, but you would terrify anyone.” Bailey smiled understandingly. Meeting his sister for the first time was personal and fraught with emotional risk. She would feel uncomfortable to say the least. “Something I’m missing here?” “You probably saw the sister I never knew I had, Andy.” Bailey grinned to see Andy blink heavily. There was very little in his town he didn’t know about. Jory used his startled response to escort her out of the building. “That should shut him up for a minute or two.” Bailey climbed up into the Jeep with only the slightest twinge of soreness. “Want to drive past and see if we can catch a glimpse?” “No, brat. I can wait until tomorrow. You’ll just have to wait, too. We will swing past work, though, and pick up my truck. I am not meeting my sister for the first time driving a beat-up pink Mustang.” “You’re man enough to wear pink.” “Wear it, yes. Drive it? Hell no. She’d be thinking I was so far over the rainbow I ought to be coughing up Skittles.” Bailey nearly wet herself with laughter.

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Chapter 12 Bailey’s night in Denver stretched into nearly a week. The assistant DA asked her to stay for the preliminary hearing scheduled for Thursday. Her evidence at that would make it unnecessary for her to attend the actual trial. She was able to wrangle some time with Nathan. Michele was actually quite accommodating, but when Bailey saw her she figured out why. The svelte woman was a little thick through the waist. It was hardly noticeable yet, and Bailey didn’t say anything, but the woman was definitely pregnant. Trying to keep up with a four-and-a-halfyear-old while dealing with morning sickness wouldn’t be fun. A helpful woman from the DA’s office contacted the family court and arranged for a special visitation day, and Bailey enjoyed the chance to take Nathan to the zoo, and since he was dinosaur-mad at present, for a visit to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. His excitement over the skeletons on display brought Bailey untold pleasure—there was nothing as rewarding as the unrestrained excitement of a child. The devil inside her made her hand him back suitably buoyed on sugar and artificial colorants. Mark and Michele would have their hands full until he crashed from the sugar high. Petty as hell, but soooo rewarding. Every night she spoke to Jory. The meeting with his sister had gone better than he had imagined. Apparently Dale was extremely shy and quiet, but was interested in getting to know her half-brother. Jory found it a bit of a spinout. The twenty-four-year-old was young enough to be his daughter and looked all of sixteen.

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Bailey would get a chance to meet her because Dale was there to stay. She had finished her teaching degree in the spring and had snared a position at Liberty Springs Elementary when school resumed next term. She couldn’t wait to meet her. Dale sounded like a quiet soul just ripe for corruption. She and Marley could take care of that. Emma and Casey would probably be more than happy to pitch in and lend a hand, too. Damien Young was facing a twenty-year sentence without parole after taking an early guilty plea. Bailey left the courtroom feeling that justice had been done. Jail time would be no walk in the park for the decidedly pretty man. She had restrained the slightly twisted urge to blow him a kiss as he was led from the room. When Bailey returned to the motel room, she broke down and cried. Deep sobs had wracked her body, but afterwards she felt cleansed. That chapter of her life was closed, and so many good things awaited her. By the time she was cruising along the interstate, heading home just a little too fast on Friday, Bailey was more than a little eager to be reunited with Jory. Sleeping alone wasn’t much fun at all. She needed his touch, his kiss. To lose herself in his loving. She felt the driving need to celebrate life. **** Jory was sitting on the front porch swing when she pulled up. She grabbed her bag and headed up to join him. He didn’t rise to meet her, but his smile was a blatant invitation to paradise that she couldn’t refuse. The bag fell to the timber deck, and she climbed up on the swing, straddling his legs. His hair felt like hot silk as she draped her hands behind his neck. She breathed in his rich, spicy scent. “I missed you.”

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“I missed you, too, brat.” His hands swept fire from her knees to where they came to rest on her waist. “Where’s my kiss?” Bailey moved in and pecked the corner of his lips where they curled endearingly. “That kiss?” “I think you can do better than that.” She laid a trail from one side to the other, feeling his smile grow beneath the teasing caresses. “I mean the ‘I’ve been a manipulative little wretch and I need to be punished’ kiss.” Bailey gave him innocent eyes. She couldn’t think of what misdemeanor he was referring to. Sometimes it was a little hard to keep up with them. “I had a couple of beers with Andy last night. Marley was very talkative when she was behind bars, apparently.” Oh, shit! That misdemeanor. “Mmm, seems what I heard of your conversation the other night was staged purely for my benefit. Marley and you both knew damn well I would be sitting about, listening. You were on a fishing trip all right, but it wasn’t the swimming variety of catch you were after. I fell for it hard, didn’t I?” “Hook, line and sinker.” Bailey kissed his top lip and licked impudently underneath. “Any regrets?” “None, but you may have one or two after I’ve finished with you.” Bailey squealed as he gripped her hard and stood up, but wrapped her legs around him the moment his hands slid to her ass. He marched inside and headed straight for the bathroom. Her clothes departed fast under his hands, but she wasn’t having such an easy time of it with his. It wasn’t too bad while he turned the shower on, but her fingers refused to cooperate the moment he laid his hands on her bare skin. His touch was pure nirvana. Other than briefly cupping a breast before tearing his hand away with a groan, he kept his hands off the good bits, but it didn’t matter much to her hungry skin. After being without his touch for damn near a week, she was

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lost. He chuckled knowingly and brushed her useless fingers away from his belt buckle. Bailey bit her lip as his T-shirt joined her scattered clothing on the floor and hungrily watched his muscles dance and leap as he attacked his pants. Her eyes were glued to his bobbing cock as he stepped out of the jeans. He was poker hard, near purple with need, and her cunt wept with a fury to match. Herded beneath the spray, she growled in pure frustration as he evaded her attempt to touch him. It was pathetic how easily she could be distracted by his soapy hands. She’d work hers toward his cock and he’d tweak a nipple and the thought was gone. He washed her all over, soapy fingers sliding with diabolical ease over every inch of her skin. Pressed against his chest while his hands travelled her back, her thoughts fell into line enough to direct her actions. She swiped her tongue across the broad expanse of his chest and found a small but erect male nipple. Her frustration grew when she couldn’t suck it into her mouth. His skin sat too damn tight against his muscles for that. But a hand could mound it enough if she dug her fingers deep. The tortured groan as she latched hold of the mounded flesh spurred her on. She sucked as hard as she could, tongue flickering at the tiny bud. “Fuck!” She gloried in his curse as his hands lost focus, but she smiled and the disc slipped from her mouth. Her hand was coming back up when he intervened. “No you don’t, brat. I’ve got plans for you, and I can’t think when you do that.” “That makes two of us. Less thinking, more touching. I’m going to die if I don’t get you inside me soon.” “What am I going to do with you?” “You could start by fucking me.” It was worth a try. His groan was the sweet music of male capitulation. “You’re still in trouble.” Bailey didn’t care as he lifted her up and put her back to the wall. The kiss of cold tile was lost in his deep, sliding thrust as he entered

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her. She locked her ankles in the small of his back and gripped his shoulders beneath the steamy spray. It was hard and fast and left her as hungry as she had begun when it was over, despite hearing her climax echo back from the tile. Jory’s eyes held the same burning need. Once their breathing had settled a little, he lowered her to the ground and washed her again. His hand was blissful torture on her oversensitive folds. His cock was still more than half hard as he washed himself, and Bailey swore she could see it plumping out once more beneath her gaze. Jory shook his head and pushed her from the shower. “You’re still in trouble.” Bailey giggled as he dried her and tried to assist in his efforts. Her tongue caught one or two droplets from his chest before he warned her away with a mock frown. She expected him to lead her down to the dungeon, but he pulled her upstairs to the large master bedroom. He swatted her on the ass and sent her in and then turned away. Bailey gave a slightly embarrassed wince when she saw that Jory had done some unpacking. Her adult toy collection was lined up on the table beside the floor-to-ceiling mirror. The mains powered vibrator she had named Big Bob held center stage, all plugged in and ready to go, but the small vibrating anal plug and the pliable rubber dildo were right next to it. Jory had unwrapped the plug. She had never taken it out of its packaging. A tube of lube and a small jeweler’s box sat beside her collar. She ran her fingers over the sapphire and onyx adorning the jewelry. They had decided wearing it to Colorado would be inviting comment, so it had sat here awaiting her return. Bailey hungered to feel the stamp of Jory’s possession around her neck once more. He came into the room carrying the wheeled computer chair from the office and placed it down in front of the mirror. Jory threw a towel over it before planting his bare ass on top. He pulled the lever and lowered it until his knees were bent further than a right angle. Bailey grinned when he swung around in it and then rolled it closer. His smile promised wicked things to come.

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“Pass that here. Let’s get it back on right now.” Bailey handed him the elegant collar and knelt before him without being told. She had gotten her hair trimmed while she was in Denver, and her curls sat in a chunky bob a few inches above her shoulders. She didn’t need to hold them up out of Jory’s way. He secured it about her neck with sure fingers. “Pass me the other box.” Bailey used his distraction to her advantage and rocked forward on her heels as she rose. Her tongue swiped from his balls halfway up his shaft before he pulled away. “You’ll have plenty to play with in a moment, brat. Be patient.” Bailey chuckled. Her be patient? Yep, that was gonna happen, too. She passed him the blue velvet box. He patted his thigh. “Sit down.” That she didn’t need to be told twice. Jory arranged her to his liking. She ended up with her legs on the outside of his with his balls pressed to her ass. Her head fell back naturally against his shoulder. “Open it.” The box was placed in her hands. Curiosity ran rife. It was too big for a ring box, too small for a necklace. It was also heavier than she had expected. It opened to reveal what she thought was a pair of earrings to match her collar, but a closer inspection showed clips at the top. Beautiful weighted nipple clamps! Her breasts sat up and begged, and Jory didn’t disappoint them. He lifted the clamps from the box and made an adjustment to the screws on each. Bailey was relieved to see rubber over the actual clamps. Her eyes followed his hands hungrily, but he stopped short of touching her nipples. Big, work-toughened hands cupped the heavy globes and lifted. “I’m sure these can get sharper, but I’m not touching them. You make them harder, baby.” Bailey needed no more encouragement. Her hands lifted eagerly. “Not your hands. Use your mouth.” She could do that? Bailey dropped her head and tried, aware that Jory cocked his head to the side and watched raptly. Her tongue just

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reached the velvety tip, flickering in vain to reach more. “Lift it higher.” Jory’s chuckle let her know he had been purposely lowering it out of reach, but he complied. She could only lick with her tongue—they were too full and firm to suckle—but Jory was enjoying the show. His cock twitched and lengthened further between his stomach and the small of her back. “So sexy, baby.” Deep and rough, his voice was a seductive bass that reverberated all the way to her womb. “I’m gonna watch you use each and every one of your toys tonight. The damn things have been sitting there teasing me all week. But first, we’ll put your new clamps on.” Bailey nearly passed out when he gave one nipple a painful flick that had it springing into full bloom and her pussy weeping anew. She threw her head back and hissed as the first clamp pinched the base of a hardened nipple. “Oh, look at that. You like that, baby. I can see the cream shining on your pussy.” Bailey cracked her lids and peered beneath her lashes. She hadn’t looked once at the mirror, but the sight held her spellbound. It was a picture of wicked decadence. A seductive voyeuristic thrill. She watched with growing hunger as he clamped the other nipple. Watched the woman in the mirror writhe in pained pleasure. God, no wonder men got off on watching. The fire in Jory’s eyes had her reaching for Big Bob without being asked. She flicked the switch to the low setting and ran the humming head across his balls before allowing it to touch her greedy flesh all aquiver with anticipation. He gasped and then growled between clenched teeth. Bailey laughed delightedly before she started putting on a show for her audience of one. The latex slid smoothly despite not slicking it with lube. Her own fluids were flowing thickly enough to make it obsolete. Gliding so easily, she ran it the full length of her folds and dipped into her entrance. Jory’s hands kneaded her breasts

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and flicked at the jewelry adorning them often enough that the fire they bestowed continued to burn in fitful starts and leaps. It was her body that was teasingly opened up by the latex invader, but it was Jory’s pained groan that echoed off the walls. His eyes flicked between the tableau in the mirror and the view right there in his lap. Bailey watched every response with the hunger of a starving woman. “Slide it in all the way.” His rough entreaty tickled the curls at her ear, but the desperation sent licks of desire much farther down. She fed it all the way into her dripping cunt. Her back arched wantonly at the stretch of taut, greedy muscles. Rough whispers of encouragement made her do it again. Painfully slowly, feeling the caress of Nordic eyes, her flesh rippled about the dildo as she reseated it inside her. “Oh, Christ. Leave it there and get the little one.” She reached for the dildo, but he pulled her up. “Not that one, the other. I want to watch as you put it in your own ass. It’s been killing me, having one taste of it and then going without a full damn week. I don’t know if I imagined how good it felt to be buried in your dark little hole or not. “ Bailey had trouble focusing with his devilish words wrapping around her reality. “I know I didn’t imagine it. It was that fuckin’ good.” “Don’t say that. I’ll be spurting up your back right now instead of where I want to be. I’m gonna bury myself balls-deep in your tight ass after you stretch it with that miserably small toy, and then I’ll watch as you feed that big rubber dildo into your cunt. You’re going to be that full it’s gonna feel like I’m fucking a hot, satin vise.” His black velvet voice reduced her to a pool of liquid need. Her fingers were trembling as they picked up the butt plug with a pathetically weak grip. Jory’s hand closed over hers when the toy nearly slipped from her fingers. “Need some help, baby?” “You make me weak. I can’t think when you talk dirty to me.”

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His chuckle was pure male delight a he steered her hand down between her widely spread legs. “I could always be quiet.” “Don’t do that. I love your naughty mouth.” “What about this, Bailey? Do you love this?” The slick plug pressed for entrance, and her tight pucker stretched with a slight burn. Dark, seductive pleasures danced up and down her spine with wicked abandon. “God, yes.” Her hand was slack in Jory’s masterful grip, but the illicit nature of impaling her own ass in front of the man who had made it his was a blatant turn-on. Vibrations from the other toy still buried in her pussy reached the small plug as it sunk home to lodge behind her clenching muscles. They tantalized and teased as the plug began to resonate in perfect accord. The deeper thrum tickled at her tailbone and made her hungry for more. It took a moment to realize that some of the noise came from the drawn-out groan vibrating in her own throat. “Mmm, I think you do like it. I think you like it a lot.” The deep purr of his words rumbled from his chest and teased her ear, but his actions lower down stole her sole attention. He started pulling the humming plug back and letting it resettle. He knew exactly what drove her wild. Mindless need drove away all thoughts but having him inside her. “Oh, God. Let me have it, Jory. I want you inside me.” “You do, huh?” He brought two fingers down sharply on the end of the plug. The tap jostled it inside her, sending shards of rapture up her spine. “If you really wanted it, you wouldn’t be asking.” Bailey tugged the plug from her body and let it fall to the floor. The vibrator slid out a little easier, and she dropped that on the bench. She lifted up on her tiptoes and went to grasp the thick stalk of his cock, but he grabbed her wrist. “I know you like a little pain, baby, but I would prefer to keep the skin on my cock, thank you very much. Grab the lube.”

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Slathering it on his nicely veined cock distracted her from her immediate goal. The sensation of sliding her palm up and down the hot, meaty length in the friction-free gel was mesmerizing. “Behave yourself if you want it inside you, brat. He likes your hand a little too much.” The droplet glistening on the tip gave credence to his words. Bailey grasped him and tried to rise a little higher to introduce his cockhead to her ass, but it was awkward. Jory solved her dilemma by dropping the chair down further. “Stand between my legs and bend him farther down. He won’t break, and I want to watch this, baby.” Taking hold of his slick shaft a little firmer, she pointed it out from his body and sunk down in a standing squat. He moved his legs a little wider, and everything fell into place. Knowing his eyes watched every little movement, Bailey took her time. Her thighs started to tremble when the broad head began to penetrate. A sharp lance of fire had her gasping and holding still. Jory’s hands swept up her back, as hot, soothing, and settling as his voice. “Breathe, baby. Take a deep breath and relax and I’ll slide right in.” Her fingers dug into his knee as she complied. Her head lolled back as the wide flare passed though her tight portal and settled behind her inner ring. Panting desperately, she relinquished her hold on his dick and gripped his other knee, too. The fiery burn faded into a sinful, decadent stretch as her body adapted to the invader. “That looks so fuckin’ hot, baby. You’re all stretched around me and squeezing like a goddamn fist. Take some more, baby. I want to watch you take me all the way.” Spurred on by his brazen words, Bailey rocked up a little before sinking lower and taking another inch. The hungry groan came from both of their lips, and Bailey lifted once more and then dipped. The angle of impalement pressed him against the inside of her tailbone. The sweet pressure bowed her back and sent her sinking lower. “Christ, baby. That is fucking beautiful. You’re nearly there. Just a little to go.” Biting down on her lip in concentration, she shimmied

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her hips and gave a little wiggle and her ass settled against his abdomen. “Tight as a frigging glove. Here, baby. Lean back against me.” Gingerly, Bailey leaned back in small increments. The shifting pressure made her very careful. It felt like a tortured lifetime later that her head fell back against his sweaty shoulder. His hand gripped one of her thighs and moved it to once more straddle his. When he repeated that with the other, her eyes flew open as his cock forged even higher. Blazing pale-blue orbs met her gaze in the mirror. Wickedly intent and burning with savage hunger, they swept the full length of the mirror. Bailey couldn’t help but follow them. She was splayed over his lap like a flesh-and-blood Japanese Shunga netsuke sculpture. Erotically entwined with Jory like two halves of a whole. The jewels in the collar and nipple clamps glowed with unearthly fire against the relative paleness of her skin. Dark hands rested on her hips. The contrast made her skin glow like well-aged ivory. His full scrotum protruding below her engorged folds was a brutal but sexy reminder of where his cock was buried. Not that she needed that. The iron-hard spike of heat and throbbing pressure was the center of her existence. Every pulse of blood through its congested vessels echoed deep inside her. She wanted to move and chase the pleasure that would bring the tortured anticipation to fruition, but the strength of his hands held her fast. “Let me move, Jory. I need to come.” She didn’t recognize the husky voice, so thick with unadulterated need, that spilled from her lips. “Not yet, baby.” He reached out, and she felt the touch of flexible rubber pressed to her palm. “I want to feel your pussy packed with cock, too. I’m never sharing you with anyone, so this is as close as you’re ever going to get. Feed it in there, Bailey. I’ll feel everything through the thin wall between. Put your finger in first. Can you feel me?”

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Bailey could. Her perineum was stretched so thin it was like her cunt was already full. His cock was a thick heat behind her stretched vaginal wall as she dipped her finger into the entrance. He flexed his cock, making it shift erotically beneath her touch. It was tight enough with just her slim digit. How the hell was the large dildo going to fit? The pleasure licked through her womb as her finger stroked inside her, and she decided then that it would. She would make it fit. Jory’s murmuring encouraged her on, as did the heavy pleasure in his eyes. To see such satisfaction on his face, she would endure anything. But the burning pressure as she forced the dildo through her constricted entrance was to be embraced with open arms, not stoically endured. Through thick lashes she watched the woman in the mirror arch and writhe as she worked the thick rubber phallus inside her. Jory groaned when the pressure built as she was stretched to capacity and his cock was forced ever tighter against her tailbone. She could only imagine the sweet agony he was feeling. The moans tumbled from her own lips like leaves in fall. The decadent pleasure beggared description. Full. So very full. “Hell. If I don’t move I’m gonna go insane.” Rough and guttural, his voice enveloped her. “Tell me I can, baby.” He entreated. He was waiting for her say so? All she wanted was to feel him forge back and forth and work her receptive nerves to fever pitch, but her resident devil couldn’t resist pushing him to action. “If you have to ask…” She never got a chance to finish her taunt. Infinitely strong arms lifted her before she got a chance to touch her toes to the carpet and help. The drag of his shaft along her outer reaches sent fissions of depraved ecstasy streaking to her womb. She kept the dildo buried deep inside her, and it shifted angles as he withdrew until only the very tip of him penetrated her ass. Her groan was more of a dull roar as he released her and let gravity impale her once more. “I need to touch my clit.” Desperation shaded her voice. The savage reclaiming of her depths skated close to the wrong side of the thin line between pleasure and pain and threatened her sanity. She

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needed some direct stimulation to keep embracing the exquisite agony. “If you have to ask…” His voice was a deliberate tease as he threw her line back at her. She grabbed Big Bob and flicked the control to max. The powerful vibrations of the machine in her hand hummed all the way to her wrist. She touched the tip to the bud peeking out proudly from her splayed lips and bucked at the intense stimulation. The sensory bombardment of Jory’s next lift and release was abetted by the mechanical stimulation that sent her floating above the pain and embracing the insidious bliss. The grating against her coccyx as Jory’s cock battled with the deeply seated dildo for space had her orgasm building like a great, hulking beast in the base of her spine, an insanely powerful monster that grew in strength every second that it laid in ambush. Jory’s hips thrust upward to meet her downward action, bucking beneath her in a driving rhythm she was powerless to deny. “Come for me, baby. Squeeze my cock. So hard, baby. That’s it.” Her tormented clit quivered once at his demand and set off an explosion that blew away all previous notions of what orgasm actually was. Her inner muscles contracted savagely, clamping down on the twin impalements as if they never meant to release their captured prizes. Her throat opened in a silent scream and her whole body gathered before being flung into a million pieces as the beast of her climax tore through her, shredding her with claws of potent lust and teeth of razor-sharp pleasure. Jory’s long fingers tightened in a cruel grip on her hips and jammed her down. A deep groan wracked his body as he twitched and spurted hot spume in the erotically taboo haven of her ass. It felt like it was never going to end. The pleasure was going to kill them both. Every twitch of his cock set off mini-explosions and made him jerk again, creating a cycle of endless pleasure that sapped her endurance and closed down her mind.

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Bailey collapsed back against his heaving chest as all strength deserted her and the toys fell forgotten to the floor. The pound of his heart felt like a fleshly drum beating a rhythm of exhausted satiation against her fevered back. His arms came around her, strong steel bands that crushed her to him with tender intent. His face buried into her hair, and his breath teased her heated skin. Silken lips stroked her ear as he whispered hoarsely, “Christ almighty, Bailey. The human body can’t take this much pleasure.” He sucked in more air. “I’ve just come so fuckin’ hard every organ in my body tried to climb out through my dick, and all I can think about is doing it again. You’re gonna be the death of us both, baby.” Bailey shivered as he withdrew from her body, her grip striving to hold him inside for just a few more moments. As he slid free, she raised one arm and tangled her fingers in his ebony hair. She lowered his head until she could lay a breathless kiss on his parted lips. “Yeah, but what a hell of a way to go.” “I want my ring on your finger before that happens. Will you marry me, baby? I know you might want a little time to get ready.” Bailey laughed. “Let’s fly down to Vegas tomorrow. Now that I’ve finally caught you, I’m not giving you a chance to get away.”

THE END HTTP://WWW.KALIANACOLE.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Kaliana Cole is an Aussie girl who simply loves writing. She plunked herself in front of the PC when temporarily unemployed and hasn’t looked back. She lives with her two exceedingly feral boys and long time, long suffering partner in the foothills of the Snowy Mountains where her time is divided between being good, (mother, lover, neighbor, cleaner and cook) and being bad, (writing raunchy romance and naughty ménage stories, and dreaming up scenarios for upcoming works). Any time not taken up by this latest love is devoted to her horses, which all seem to have become fatter and naughtier since their owner started writing. Hook, Line and Sinker is her third novel. She can be contacted at [email protected].

Also by Kaliana Cole Ménage Amour: Liberty Springs, Wyoming 1: No Bag Limit Ménage Amour: Good Horses, Fast Cars and Real Men

Available at BOOKSTRAND.COM

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com