Page 34 of Forever Finds Us
Thank God he showed. I was starting to think he wouldn’t. If he hadn’t, my self-esteem would’ve taken a hard nosedive.
After changing six times, I’d become a sweating, flustered mess, even though I’d finally ended up in a pizzazz-less jeans-and-tank-top combo with no bra ’cause every single one I owned kept digging into the skin above my ribcage and pinching me. My boobs were pretty small though—and still high and tight, thank you very much—and jogging most mornings kept me pretty fit, so I never worried about turning into Drooping Dolly.
My hair had looked so cute at one point. I used my special curl cream and scrunched till my fingers were sore and my diffuser all but gave up, but now, the sweaty mop hung limp and barely wavy, the sad victim of overexcited body heat.
And now I was worried about my house. My duplex rental was nothing to write home about. It was old, the finishings outdated, but it was just me. I couldn’t afford any of the fancy, newer homes northwest of town, and I wasn’t one to waste money on that kind of thing anyway.
My place was clean though, so I had to hope Brand didn’t care about that kind of thing. But he was a billionaire. Surely he was used to nicer accommodations.
“I’m sorry,” he said in his low voice, and it sent vibrations right to my clit. “I wasn’t sure what to wear.”
He couldn’t have responded more perfectly. Thoughts of my haggard house disappeared, and I yanked him inside by his jacket, slammed the door shut behind him, and kissed him.
Mr. Begley next door would complain about the noise tomorrow, but I knew for a fact that he wore hearing aids and kept them turned down or off most of the time unless he was watching World War II documentaries, and then his TV was louder than I’d ever been.
There was no pretense between Brand and me. No small talk. Just tongues in mouths.
He growled and kissed me back, and after I pushed his jacket off and to the floor, he unbuttoned his jeans and yanked one side of my tank down roughly, exposing my breast. Pushing his face against my chest, I smothered him, my fingers raking through his hair, and he sucked my nipple into his mouth and slipped his hand between my legs.
“I love when you do that.”
“Mm,” he moaned, trying to back me to my couch.
I redirected him. “Bedroom.”
We made it there, but it was touch and go for a minute because he slipped the same hand inside my jeans and found that I was already wet for him. He played in the wetness, stroking me with sure fingers, and bit down on my nipple, and I probably could’ve come right there in the hallway.
He tried to take charge like last time, but I was feeling a little bold, confidence flowing through me since he’d shown up, so I clasped his wrist in my hand and spun him, then pushed him down on his back on my bed like a feast on a platter, waiting for me to devour him.
He stared up at me, mouth open, breath shaking out of him. Want in his eyes.
Dipping my head, I said, “Take off your clothes.”
He did, slowly, and I watched as every inch of his skin was exposed to me, every muscle tight with anticipation, his cock hard and jutting away from his stomach, pointing right at me. I wanted to impale my body on his, but he kept glancing at my bedside table.
I’d locked my weapons in my safe, but my flashlight and handcuffs sat there, the metal gleaming and reflecting the light from the hallway.
“You can’t use those on me,” I said as he pulled off his socks and dropped them off the far edge of my bed. “I’m afraid that’s against the rules, but if you were interested…”
Technically, I probably wasn’t supposed to use my handcuffs on anyone when I wasn’t on duty. I was pretty sure I remembered that little tidbit from my training, but for some reason, Brand Lee made me want to forget all the rules. I’d clung to them by the very tips of my fingernails the last time we were together.
But tonight?
“Yes,” he said breathlessly, and he raised his hands above his head, wrists pressed together.
What rules?
I used to think my bed frame was ugly and outdated, but now I loved it, and I’d never been so glad that it had been made of metal and had a slatted headboard. It was an old one, a hand-me-down from my sister, Maureen, but God knew I wouldn’t be telling her how I was about to use it.
“It’s your turn,” Brand said as I walked around the end of my bed to the table and lifted the cuffs. “You still have way too many clothes on.”
I tsked my tongue. “Look at you, tryin’ to be all bossy.” I wrapped a cuff around one of his wrists, the zipping-metal sound loud in my room as it locked in place. He tried to lift my shirt with his other hand, but I gripped it tight. “Nuh-uh. Tonight, Deputy Roxi’s in charge, and you don’t get to tell me what to do.”
I threaded the second cuff behind a slat on the headboard and lifted his other arm above his head. His bicep flexed as I shackled his wrists, and he pulled against the handcuff’s hold and adjusted his body to the position.
When I had him how I wanted him, completely naked and chained to my bed like my very own sex prisoner, I said, “Test them. Can you wiggle free?”
The metal clanged against the headboard loudly when he tried to pull his wrists out, but he shook his head and moaned softly.
