She willed her body to go lax, diverting her attention toward scrunching up her face instead. The clock in the room was digital, but she swore she could hear the seconds tick by interminably as she waited for the sting of the flogger.
Instead, the strong, gentle hand on her back dipped lower to stroke the curve of her ass, kneading and rubbing. Fingertips drifted close to the crevice there and then lower to where all the heat and moisture in her body had seemed to pool. She gasped and pushed back against him, urging those fingers to dip lower, to slide—
Smack!
Courtney stiffened, the pain of the leather straps streaking over her ass cheek. Before she could pull away, that hand was in motion again, massaging the offending spot. It still stung, heck, his firm touch even intensified it, but the sensation went from white-hot pain to molten pleasure.
She pulsed back against him, again urging him to use his fingers to take her over the edge. God knew it wouldn’t take much. Right when she found herself wondering if anyone had ever come from having their ass rubbed, suddenly, he pulled his hand away.
“Where’s my thank you, Ms. Mack?”
His voice was low and steady, but thick with need, and she reveled in the fact that he was as affected as she was. It made it so much easier to let the last of her inhibitions go. To hand him the keys and let him drive them both to the edge of sanity.
“Thank you, Mr. Welter.”
Now please, again, she wanted to beg, but knew it would get her nowhere. She stayed perfectly still and waited, and soon her patience was rewarded.
The second blow was harder than the first but not in the same spot. She almost cried out but held back, biting her lip, waiting for the hot sting to magically morph into something else. Sure enough, even as her ass throbbed, a rush of heat pooled between her slightly spread legs.
“I can see how wet you are from here.” This time, there was nothing calm about him. His voice was all grit and lust. She couldn’t resist the urge to shake her bottom, lean deeper into her stance to lure him in, draw him closer, will him to touch her there.
“But you didn’t thank me again, Ms. Mack,” he growled.
This time, no touching before the next blow, and it was a doozy. She couldn’t hold back her cry as the leather came down on her sensitive flesh.
“Thank you,” she murmured, when the discomfort subsided enough that she could catch her breath.
“Good.”
She went warm with his praise.
Smack.
She tried to separate the ache from the ecstasy as the blows rained, sometimes in slow succession as he massaged her in between, sometimes two in a row. Flames licked her from head to toe and she pressed her upper body against the mattress, her hard nipples aching for contact.
“Move toward the foot of the bed.”
She didn’t hesitate, skittering a few feet down until her toes touched the edge of the mattress. He rounded the bed, moving to stand directly behind her.
Smack.
She tried not to move as, upon her murmured thanks, the flogger dropped to the floor and he squeezed her stinging cheeks hard in both hands.
“Mmpmh,” she groaned, wanting to pull away and push closer at the same time.
“You’re amazing. Ass so beautiful, with my marks on you, pink and hot, your pussy swollen and wet and waiting for me.” He squeezed again, kneading her heated flesh, sending another bolt of pleasure/pain coursing through her. “You took your punishment so well,” he said, climbing onto the bed next to her and leading her wrist toward him. “Take my cock out.”
She was shaking so badly she wondered if she could manage the job, but when she saw the broad head of him thrusting out the top of his underwear, she was so desperate to have him inside her, nothing could have stopped her.
She jerked the boxers down, not even bothering to take them all the way off, and threw a knee over his hips to straddle him. Settling lower, she took his thick length in her hand and squeezed, loving the hiss it elicited from him.
“Fuck me,” he demanded.
She tore her gaze away from his cock and met his gaze. His eyes were like glittering chunks of onyx, his jaw so tense, he looked to be in pain. She slid down, intent on taking it slow, but he would have none of it. The second their bodies touched, he gripped her hips and flexed, pressing his hard length deep.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She tried to pull away. It was too intense, too much, but he was there, murmuring soft words of encouragement as he palmed her ass and pressed firmly again, sliding her farther onto his rigid cock.
“That’s my girl. There it is. Take it.”
She shook from the effort of remaining still, desperate for the release that was just around the corner but not wanting this delicious torture to end.
“They aren’t numbered, you know,” he murmured, as if reading her mind. He swirled his hips and ground against her, anchoring her against him with both hands on her ass. The sweet tingle and throb came back with a vengeance and the combination of that along with him buried deep was too much.
She rose and slammed back down, almost to the point of pain, and her body stretched to accommodate him. Each nerve ending lit up and she exploded over his hard cock. She couldn’t move, she was so caught up in the haze of pleasure crashing over her, but he was there, cupping her hips, using them to work her over him again and again, taking the flames higher and higher.
“Jesus, oh my God!”
Her scream mingled with his shout as he convulsed beneath her, pinning her to him. His face was a mask of ecstasy as his cock jerked wildly inside her even as her own orgasm seemed to stretch on and on.
They stayed like that for a long minute, until their breathing slowed and their hearts stopped clamoring. She’d just come to the realization that she was going to have to climb off him and step away from the haven of his body, when he hauled her forward to sprawl on top of him, and laughed softly into her hair.
“Well done, Ms. Mack.”
His tone was playful, but tinged with something else. Satisfaction. Dare she hope, happiness? A warm sense of pride warmed her from the inside out as he slid a hand up her back to cover her nape before toying with her hair.
If she made him feel even half as good as he made her feel, then she’d done something right. She was going to enjoy every second of this. Seize the moment. Soak it all in. She refused to think about what tomorrow would bring. Refused to consider what things would be like after their last scene.
And she wasn’t even going to contemplate how in the world she was ever going to go back to real life after the fantasy that was Rafe Davenport.
Chapter Ten
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She’d been rehashing the night with Rafe over in her head for the thousandth time when she heard it. The whining, nasally voice sent a wave of disgust through her, and she paused on her way to the elevator, fixing a tight smile to her lips.
“I’m going home, Barry. Like people do when their shifts are over.”
Her two fellow nurses, Rhonda and Shelby, suddenly got really busy—looking uncomfortable, chattering softly to each other, and pushing papers around at the main desk a few feet away.
Barry glared, his watery gaze locked on hers. Courtney shifted the stack of patient files to her other arm. She’d planned to take them down to Records on her way out, but a sinking dread settled over her at the cold gleam in her supervisor’s gaze.
She’d seen it before. Several times, actually, since he’d started that spring. He actively enjoyed ruining people’s days. He took joy in the misery of others. He treated employees who were under his pay grade like they were garbage. In a word, he was a big, fat asshole, with a capital A, and he got off on abusing his relative power.
“Chyeah, about that. Look, I wish I could spare you, but it looks like we’re going to need you to stick around for a double shift again tonight.” The faux regret pinched his thin lips, but didn’t make it to his beady ice-blue eyes.
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Exhaustion settled over her like a water-saturated blanket. Weeks of screwy sleep schedules due to last-minute extra shifts were taking a serious toll on her, and the thought of spending another eight hours at work was enough to make her throat ache with frustration.
“Look, Barry, I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep and I—”
His thick brows came together in a thunderous frown even as his weak chin wobbled with indignation. “If your evening activities are too rigorous for you to be in tip-top shape to do your job, then maybe you need to prioritize better, Ms. DeLollis. Now either you can take those files down and come back on up or you can run the risk of me finding another nurse who is a little more dedicated than you are to fill your position.”
Rhonda and Shelby had done away with the pretense and had gone silent as they watched the scene before them, sympathy written all over their faces. Barry had delivered a pretty low blow, but maybe he was partly right.
Granted, she hadn’t been scheduled to work the day after her night at the hotel with Rafe, but even now two days later, she was a little tired. Guilt nipped her hard and she was about to apologize when something stopped her.
Who the hell did this guy think he was, treating her that way? He might be her supervisor, but that didn’t give him the right to talk to her like she was a piece of crap on his shoe.
She straightened and returned Barry’s glare with a vengeance. “What I do with my time off is none of your concern, and the insinuation that I would ever come to work in a condition that could be detrimental to my patients infuriates me.”
She strode to the long metal desk and set the folders she’d been holding onto it with a snap before whipping around to face him again.
“My contract is for five shifts a week. When there is an emergency and they need extra hands on deck, I’m never anything but accommodating. But if you think you’re going to treat me the way you do and then try to shame me into taking a back-to-back shift so I can do a bunch of busywork that could be done any time, then you’re sadly mistaken.”
His eyes practically rolled to the back of his head as he advanced closer. Close enough that she put a hand up in warning. He stopped short, but the rage pouring off him was palpable. “I’ll be talking to Leslie about this.”
Courtney admired and respected their head nurse, and hated the idea of their relationship being tainted by this man, but she ignored the tiny voice in her head that told her to apologize and instead met Barry head-on.
“You certainly will, because I’m going to file a complaint against you, which I should’ve done months ago. Part of your job, besides respecting people’s boundaries and personal space”—she sent a pointed glance at the few inches between them—“and keeping morale up, is making sure hospital funds are being used wisely. Imagine what the bosses would say if they realized that half the time you make us stay late and work overtime it’s purely for your own sadistic enjoyment and not because we actually need to be here?”
One of the nurses behind her whispered “Damn straight” under her breath, but Courtney was focused on Barry, who had gone from furious to sweating and nervous in a matter of seconds. He wet his lips and stepped back. “Look, I did need some help with a project for tonight, but no big deal. We’ll just let this go and—”
“We won’t let it go, because if it’s not me, it will be someone else and no one should have to put up with this.” She stepped away now, feeling better by the second. Finally standing up to him felt amazing, and she was almost giddy with the sense of freedom. “Make sure those files get to Records before midnight. My shift is officially over.”
She made her best effort not to flounce, keeping her head high but her steps slow and measured. No point in making it more of scene than it needed to be. So obviously, that meant leaping up and clicking her heels together like the leprechaun from the Lucky Charms commercial was probably out, but damn, did she feel like it.
Once the elevator doors closed behind her, though, she did a quick, impromptu jig. She’d effectively shut down Brutal Barry and, once she filed her complaint, hopefully it would be forever.
By the time she got home, the euphoria had begun to fade, but not the newfound confidence. She’d finally done it. Stood up for herself with her boss and the world hadn’t ended or anything. In fact, she’d never felt better.
She made her way into the kitchen and tossed her purse and keys onto the table. Leafing through her mail, she strolled into the living room and stopped in her tracks. Something felt off. A chill ran through her and she glanced around the room, gaze darting left and right. Seemed all right; everything was in its place.
She felt it before she saw it. A breeze tickling her nape. She spun around to see the dining room curtain fluttering gently against the windowsill. She never left the house with the windows open. Never ever.
“Rafe?” she called, praying she’d hear his silky baritone in response, while simultaneously plotting his death for scaring the shit out of her. But there was no answer to her call.
“Hello?” She walked slowly toward the window, envelopes falling from her icy hands to the hardwood floor when she saw the shards of glass and half a shoe print. Jamming a hand into the pocket of her scrubs, she drew out her cell phone and dialed. Please answer, please answer.
“Davenport,” a low voice barked.
“Rafe? It’s Courtney. Were you…here earlier, by any chance?” She already knew the answer, he had a key, of course he hadn’t come in through the window, but the question came on autopilot.
“Was I where?” he asked, his tone going from all-business detective mode to perplexed. Like he had no clue what she was talking about, as she’d expected.
Not good.
“M-my house?” she whispered, moving quickly and quietly on shaking legs to the kitchen door.
“No. What’s going on? Why are you whispering?” Concern colored his tone and he’d gone back to detective-mode barking.
She strained to hear any sounds from upstairs as she skulked toward the butcher’s block and slid a knife from its sheath. “My dining room window is broken and there is a muddy shoe print on the floor. Someone was in my house.”
“Listen to me carefully, Courtney. Go to the nearest exit and get to a neighbor’s house, immediately.”
She nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her, and continued her path past the pantry and to the back door. Juggling the phone in one hand and the knife in the other, she inched the door open as quietly as possible and stepped through.
“Damn it, are you there?”
“Yes,” she hissed. “Yes, I just got out of the house and am going to Anita and Drew’s across the street.”
“I’m getting in my car now. I’ll be there in eight minutes or less.”
She didn’t bother closing up behind her, the need to sprint too strong to resist. “Okay. I’m already crossing the street, and there’s no one coming after me, so that’s good,” she panted, panic making good breath control impossible.
“Stay on the phone with me until you get there and confirm someone is home.”
She could hear his siren over the receiver and just that and the knowledge he was coming calmed her some. Churning legs ate up the short distance and she arrived on Anita’s doorstep less than a minute later. She knocked frantically, still checking behind her obsessively. It seemed unlikely that a burglar would run her down, but at that point, nothing seemed impossible.
“Hey, neighbor, wha—” Anita’s smiling face crumpled as she took in the sight before her. Brown gaze locked on to the knife in Courtney’s hand and she took a faltering step back. “Jesus, what’s going on?”
“Someone broke into my house,” Courtney blurted, handing the knife over, hilt first. “The police are coming and I need somewhere to wait.”
“Of course, of course, come in.” Anita tugged her into the foyer and called up the stairs to her husband. “Drew, come down here.”
“You’re good?” Rafe’s clipped voice sounded over the
line and Courtney nodded inanely.
“Yes. They’re here. It’s the blue house on the corner.”
He disconnected without another word and Courtney slipped her phone back into her pocket. Her concerned neighbors huddled around her, offering tea and kind words, but she couldn’t stop shaking. She wouldn’t feel better until Rafe came. Once he got there, everything would be all right.
And that realization? Was scarier than a robber any day.
…
“Thank you so much again, Mr. and Mrs. Brenton. You’ve been very helpful,” Rafe said and then closed the door behind him. Courtney was tucked under his arm and although he knew she was all right to walk on her own two feet, he couldn’t bring himself to let her go yet.
“You okay?” he asked for what had to be the tenth time in as many minutes. She was probably sick of hearing it, but until the icy fear wedged in his chest started to thaw some, he was going to keep asking.
To her credit, she answered him like it was the first time. “Yeah, I’m good. Just shook up some. I’ll be fine.”
He nodded grimly, looking both ways as he led her across the street back toward her house. She’d be fine all right, but him? That was another story. He’d done a sweep of her house and found it empty, but someone had definitely been there. The jewelry box on her dresser had been cleaned out and her mattress had been overturned. The burglar had ignored bigger stuff like the flat-screen TV in favor of trying for easy-to-carry items and cash. Luckily, Courtney wasn’t the money-under-the-mattress type, but she was out a set of diamond earrings her parents had given her, a set of gold bangle bracelets, and a brand-new laptop.
When he thought of how much worse it could have been, his guts cramped.
“I can’t breathe,” she mumbled, and he realized he was holding her so tight, her face was smashed against his underarm.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Thanks for getting here so fast. I probably should’ve called 911 but…”
He didn’t care about the why, he was glad she hadn’t. He’d been able to assemble the crew he wanted to come check for fingerprints and see if they could get anything on the shoe print. The techs had left once they got what they needed, but it wasn’t looking good. He still had to talk to two more of the neighbors, but so far, no prints other than the shoe and no one had seen or heard anything. There had been a rash of robberies a few blocks away and he had a bad feeling this was the same guy, but they had little to go on, and since they were committed when no one was home, these types of cases often dropped to the bottom of the pile.
That was good and bad. Good, because this burglar didn’t want violence—he wanted to get in, get what he needed, and get out. Bad, because it might never get solved and that meant that a man had broken into Courtney’s home, invaded her privacy, scared the shit of out of her, and made her feel insecure. And that? That made him want to kill the motherfucker.
“You’re doing it again.” Her voice was muffled and he released her, taking her elbow instead.
“I’m not going to faint or anything, you know. I’m sorry I scared you. I know I overreacted but—”
“You reacted exactly the way you should have.” He didn’t release her arm, using it to lead her up her front stairs as he fished around for the key she’d left him. “You called the police, me, and you vacated the premises. Textbook. I’m really proud of you.”
She cleared her throat. “Um, thanks. You know, the back door’s not locked. I left it open when I ran out.”
“I locked it,” he said simply. Dusk had fallen and the house was nearly dark when he swung the door open. Courtney froze in the entranceway.
“C-can you turn the light on?” she whispered.
He flicked on the switch behind him and she let out a long sigh of relief. Maybe it was a good thing they hadn’t gotten any prints. If he’d been able to ID the perp, he didn’t know if he could’ve stopped himself from making sure the bastard wound up as afraid of the dark as Courtney was right now.
Her gaze flickered immediately to the window and she closed her eyes for a second, taking a steadying breath. “Thanks for getting rid of the glass and boarding it up. I don’t think I could’ve slept.”
“Not a problem. Why don’t you have a seat? I can make you some tea or something.”
“I’d rather have a beer, I think,” she admitted with a wan smile. Her cheeks were still chalk white, and something to take the edge off didn’t seem like a bad idea.
“Sure, I’ll get it. Go sit.”
She seemed like she wanted to argue, but did as he asked, padding across the oak floor to the large sectional couch that took up the center of the living room.
He headed into the kitchen and pawed around until he found a couple beers, a bottle opener, and one glass. When he returned to the living room, he found Courtney huddled into the couch cushions with a tattered pink blanket over her.
“You cold?” He eyed her hard, wondering if he’d missed signs of shock, and if she wasn’t as fine as she claimed to be, but she shook her head and faced him with a clear gaze.
“No. This is the blanket I had when I was a kid. Makes me feel…comfy.”
And safe, he added mentally.
He sat down next to her, opened her beer, and poured it into the glass.
She murmured her thanks and accepted the drink before twisting to face him head-on. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it? That someone thinks they have the right to come into your home and take things that don’t belong to them?”
“It’s not fair,” he agreed and then popped the cap off his own beer and took a swig. He must have looked as grim and angry as he felt, because she laid a hand