Apache Nights (6 page)

His eyebrows shot up. “You two talked about—”

“Yep.” She tugged at his jeans, pulling them and
his boxers down, just enough to see him. He sprang free, granite-hard and porn-star huge.

She sucked in a staggering breath.

He grinned, and she wrestled with his pants, stripping him down to his birthday suit. And then she grabbed the cranberry gloss and rubbed it onto his skin, stroking him with the shiny sweetness.

He opened his legs, surrendering to her ministrations. “You're going to drive me crazy.”

“That's the idea.” She went down on him, using her tongue, flicking it over the tip.

He shivered, and she settled between his thighs. She couldn't take all of him, but she took as much as she could, making every inch count.

He lifted his hips, getting more and more aroused.

She was excited, too. Thrilled to please him, to suck and nuzzle and make him moan. In the past, she'd found fellatio tedious, something she'd done out of obligation. But with Kyle, it seemed hot and sexy.

She liked the shape of him, the silky hardness, the masculine girth. She even like the way he tasted, the earthy flavor, the primal saltiness.

Giving was as good as receiving.

When he cursed and fisted the sheets, she stopped to gulp some air. “Should I keep going?”

“Yes. No. Damn you.” He dragged her up and crushed her mouth with his. The kiss was desperate, rough and insatiable, tongues mating, teeth clashing.

Beneath her hands, his muscles hardened like steel. She traced his abs, enthralled by his nakedness, by the power of how she'd made him feel.

But in the heat of the moment, he stole her victory, proving how big and strong he really was. He grabbed the handcuffs, and her world turned upside down. He didn't chain her to the headboard. He didn't attach her to an inanimate object.

He locked her to him instead, binding their wrists, making them both prisoners.

The lady cop and her lover.

J
oyce's heart thundered with every beat. Kyle rolled on top of her with a wicked smile on his face. The handcuffs rattled between them, where his right hand was shackled to her left.

“You tricked me,” she said.

“No, I didn't. This is what I had in mind all along.”

“Then you should have told me.”

“And spoil the fun? Besides, this is perfect for our first time.”

She took a labored breath. He made them sound like virgins. “You've never done this before?”

“I've used handcuffs, but I've never attached myself to someone else.”

Great. Just great. She couldn't escape his charm.

Literally and figuratively.

And that was scarier than what she'd imagined him doing with the handcuffs. In her mind, bondage wasn't nearly this intimate.

“We're going to sleep like this,” he said.

“What if I have to get up to go to the bathroom?”

“Then I'll go with you. You're stuck with me, Detective. I already hid the keys.”

She glanced at the nightstand. Sure enough, they were gone. He was clever that way: a militant, a magician, a thief.

Kyle snared her gaze, and Joyce shook her head. He was so handsome, so thrilling, so downright domineering, she wanted to knock him on his butt. But she wanted to make hard, hot love with him, too. He was still enormously aroused, his erection pressed against her stomach. She picked up the last pot of gloss—papaya—-and waved it under his nose. “We haven't used this one yet.”

Aggressive as ever, he took it from her, smeared it all over her lips and pushed his tongue down her throat.

Sultry sex and half-starved sin.

She clawed his shoulders, and they went mad, tumbling over the bed, kissing and biting and battling pheromones.

Within seconds, he went after the condoms on the
floor. Grabbing a fistful, he sorted through them, tossing the rejected packets like confetti.

He tore open a
warm sensation
style, using both of his hands. The motion dragged her chained hand along, too.

“Help me put it on,” he said.

She smoothed the latex over him, and he watched her. His stomach muscles jumped, and she realized how anxious he was. His body was taut, waiting for hers. His chest rose and fell.

“You're my captive,” she said.

“And you're mine.” He nudged her legs apart. “Forbidden lovers.”

She lifted her hips. “Dark fantasies.”

“Mindless games.” He thrust into her, and she caught her breath.

She'd never had anyone as determined, as powerful, as provocative as Kyle. He pumped himself in and out of her, using her for his pleasure.

But she used him, too. She took everything he gave, every low, primal groan, every passionate demand. She met him, stroke for stroke, letting him fill the void, the need that clawed at her soul.

He slid his hand between their bodies and touched her, rubbing and teasing, intensifying the heat, the undeniable wetness. He used the hand that was bound to hers, making her part of his ploy. Suddenly she was touching herself, too, the cold steel grazing her skin.

“I like it when you do that,” he said.

“I can tell.” His eyes, that catlike gaze, had gone hazy. She was hypnotizing him.

But that didn't stop him from making ruthless love to her. She wrapped her legs around him, grateful for the untamed feeling, for the slick, sliding motion, for the warm, tingling sensation.

“Come for me,” he whispered. “Come like you did when I was licking you.”

Softly spoken words and a heart-hammering rhythm. She climaxed on command, the naughty sentiment pushing her over the edge.

He kissed her while it happened, and the room started to spin. For her, for him, for both of them. She could feel his need, his hunger, his orgasm threatening to burst.

When it was over, he held her while she quivered beneath him, while she jangled the relentless handcuffs and fell prey to the comfort of his arms.

 

Kyle nuzzled Joyce's neck. He knew that most women liked to cuddle after sex, so he tried to make it a habit. Of course for him, it was tough to lie still. Cuddling made him want to nibble and kiss and do it all over again.

She shifted in his arms, and he rubbed his cheek against her hair. He liked the feathery softness.

“Don't go to sleep,” he told her.

“Why not?”

He bumped his groin against hers. “Because I have to get rid of this condom.”

“So get rid of it.”

“The trash can is in your bathroom.”

She squinted at him. Their faces were just inches apart. “Which means I have to get out of bed, too.”

“'Fraid so. You and I are a team.”

“You're a pain in the butt, Kyle.”

“So are you.” He pulled her up, using his chained arm. She made a sour face, and he stole a quick kiss. “But you're a hell of a lay.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He chuckled and grabbed the bubble bath and toy boat off the floor. “As long as we're in there, we might as well soak in the tub.”

She shook the metals cuffs. “In these?”

“Yep. In these. I'm not letting you go until morning.”

“Lucky me.”

“Don't get snide.” He hauled her into the bathroom and discarded the used condom. “I'm the best you'll ever have. You'll never want another guy after me.”

“Such ego.” She leaned over him while he filled the tub. Then she nibbled his bare shoulder.

He smiled and poured the bubble bath into the water. Having her as a lover was better than he'd imagined.

His first cop. His first Caucasian.

He enjoyed her tough-girl attitude. But he appreciated her dreamy side, too. The lady who'd slipped into his arms after he'd banged her breathless.

“That's enough,” she said.

He turned to look at her. “What?”

She grabbed the oceanic liquid from him. “You're not supposed to use the whole bottle.”

“Spoilsport.” He lowered the boat into the frothing foam. “SpongeBob wanted lots of bubbles.”

“You and SpongeBob are weird.”

“So are you.” He scooped her up, and she squealed like a teenager. He wanted to drop her into the bubbles, but he couldn't, not while they were attached. Holding her was awkward enough. So he climbed into the tub and plopped down, making a dramatic splash and positioning her in front of him.

The tub was too small for both of them, but he didn't care. He opened his legs and bent his knees to make room for her. She leaned back and cozied her butt against him, shifting and moving and driving him to distraction. He moaned, and she laughed.

“You're evil, Detective Riggs.”

She wiggled her rear again. “I try.”

“No kidding.” He wound up the boat, and they watched it drive around in goofy little circles.

He put his free arm around her. “Can you imagine what conjoined twins feel like? Being connected to each other all the time?”

“It's all they know.”

“Unless a team of doctors separates them.”

She relaxed against him. “I'll bet that's even harder than being together. They probably miss each other afterward.”

He rewound the boat when it stopped moving. “Probably.”

Her voice turned soft. “Was it lonely for you being an only child?”

The toy bumped his knee, a reminder of his mixed-up youth, of spinning in circles. “Maybe it would have been easier if I had brothers and sisters. They could have suffered with me.” He gave the boat a gentle push, away from his knee. “Misery loves company.”

When Joyce moved her head, her hair tickled his chest. “Sometimes I used to yearn for privacy, but I wouldn't trade my family for anything.”

“Where do you fit in?” he asked. “Are you the oldest? The youngest? Or are you one of the middle kids?”

“I'm the oldest.” She heaved a barely audible sigh. “And I used to think I was the wisest. But I don't think so anymore.”

“Because of what's going on in your life?”

“I'm my own worst enemy.”

He contemplated her response. “You're creating your own turmoil?”

“Yes.” She angled her shoulders, turning, trying
to look back at him. Between the cramped quarters and the handcuffs, her mobility was limited. “It's my own fault.”

Kyle was as confused as ever, but he didn't expect to understand her. “I've never been able to figure women out. You're such a baffling breed.”

She pinched his thigh. “Breed?”

“Gender.” He nibbled the side of her neck, tasting soap and skin. “Are you ready to go back to bed?”

“If you are.”

“I'm always ready to mess around.”

“Oh, I see. Is that why we're going back to bed?”

“Definitely.” He stood, giving her no choice but to stand, too. “You can be on top this time.”

She nudged him toward the towel rack. “You're such a gentleman.”

He knew she was kidding, teasing him for being so blatant, for saying whatever came to mind. He wrapped her in terry cloth, drying her off. He used another towel on himself and dropped both of them onto the floor.

Squeaky clean and warm from the tub, they tumbled into bed. Only this time, they ditched the virgin-white quilt and made use of her pastel-colored sheets.

They didn't bother with foreplay, at least not to the degree of building up the sexual tension. Kyle was already aroused. Just thinking about being with her again made him hard. Joyce seemed just as anxious.

While he leaned against the headboard, she chose a ribbed condom, fitted him with it and climbed onto his lap.

“I like how big you are,” she told him, impaling herself with a warm, wet thrust.

Kyle's breath rushed out. “Then go deeper. Take more.”

“This much?” She sank onto him again, riding him the way he'd imagined her riding the bull.

“Yeah. That much.” He didn't need to lean forward to kiss her. They were already as close as humanly possibly, courtesy of the police-issued handcuffs. “These are better than the sex-shop kind.”

She moved up and down, milking every inch. “They're not a toy.”

“They are now.” He studied her, compelled by her beauty, by the shape of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach, the flare of her hips. He shifted his gaze even lower, mesmerized by the V between her legs.

“You're watching us,” she said.

“So are you.” He noticed that her head was bent, too.

She kept watching. “It's sexy.”

“Totally.” Intercourse, he thought. Copulation. The visual effect was driving him half-mad. “Do you like dirty movies?”

She looked up.
“Kyle.”

He stared at her. “Do you?”

She bit down on her bottom lip. “No.”

“Liar. You like everything I like.”

“No, I don't.”

“Yes, you do.” He took a chance and whispered something lewd in her ear, something gentlemen didn't say, something ladies shouldn't hear.

She reacted.

Violently.

She called him a bastard, drove her nails into his skin, and then kissed him, nearly devouring his mouth in one fell swoop.

He pushed her down, switching positions so he was on top, so he could pound her into the bed. She wrapped her legs around him, thrashing their shackled wrists.

And then he felt it. The feminine fire. The hot-blooded moisture. The pretty blond cop coming like a call girl.

The edgy sex, the kinky stuff she'd been worried about, was nothing more than a few strategic words. But it didn't matter. Kyle felt as if he'd just scaled a mountain. He loved sex. He always had. But with her, it was even better.

He tugged her head back, using her hair, behaving like the caveman she'd accused him of being. Then he caught himself.

Cursing his stupidity, he released her. “I'm sorry. I wasn't supposed to hurt you.”

“Don't apologize.” She squeezed her thighs together, tightening her grip, locking him between her legs. “I'm going to hurt you, too.”

His heart slammed against his chest. “You are?”

“Without a doubt.” This time when she clawed his skin, she drew blood, leaving marks down his chest.

Hard and deep and steeped in pain. They made love like maniacs, and Kyle went off like a six-foot-four rocket.

But he didn't stop when it was over.

He got his second wind and corrupted her, and himself, all over again.

 

At dawn, Joyce woke up alone. Daylight streamed through the sheers, spilling lavender hues across the bed. She sat up and dragged the sheet against her naked body.

Kyle had left? Just walked out without even saying goodbye? She shouldn't care. But she did.

She glanced at the nightstand. The handcuffs and both sets of keys were there. She peered over the bed and noticed everything that belonged to him was gone, including the confetti of condoms.

He'd taken his protection and hightailed it out of her apartment before she could fix him breakfast or seduce him or kick him out of bed herself.

Damn him anyway.

She stole a panicked glance at the vanity table
just to be sure her gun wasn't missing. Thank goodness. He hadn't disappeared with her Glock.

Joyce slipped on her robe and went into the bathroom. She looked around and noticed that Kyle had tidied up. He'd put the towels he'd dropped on the floor last night in the hamper. Of course, his travel-size toothbrush, which he'd conveniently brought with him, was gone. And so was the SpongeBob boat.

For a man who lived like a slob, he was excruciatingly neat in someone else's home. But that hardly mattered. She would have preferred that he'd said goodbye.

Who cared if—

Suddenly she heard footsteps sounding down the hall. She exited the bathroom, and her heart tripped, just once, before Kyle rounded the corner and nearly bumped into her.