OnLocation (9 page)

She started to lean back. For a second, nothing much
happened. The small slack in the chain was taken up. Her breasts lifted. She
leaned back farther and felt her nipples start to stretch. And then the clamps
bit harder, as he said they would. She moaned, thinking any sane woman would
stop. But she didn’t want to be sane. The pain was making her feel almost high,
the way she had before, when he’d been striking her ass with the crop. She
pushed her still sore bottom into the ground and absorbed more pain from that.
She reached out with her hands, digging them into the sand so that she could
keep her balance, and then leaned back some more.

It hurt, but that didn’t seem like a bad thing anymore. She
pulled back, wanting it to sting ever more sharply.
More. More.
He was
moving his hand with her, following her. That was cheating. How could she get
them tighter if he did that? She wanted to be overwhelmed with it.

He let go of the chain entirely and pulled his finger from
her pussy. That wasn’t good. “Please, Sir,” she said, feeling drugged. He
lifted her and then settled her on top of him, his rubber-sheathed cock filling
her pussy in one thrust. She felt soft, liquid. Her skin was covered with
sweat. Her pussy was wet with desire. When he thrust up inside her, her breasts
bounced and the chain bounced with them. When the chain dropped again it pulled
deliciously. Her arousal climbed higher until her whole body felt as though it
was on edge.

He tugged on the chain and she screamed. First the pain
blinded her, then a violent orgasm ripped through her body. She shuddered and
pulsed around him. Wave after wave of pleasure tore through her. He held her
tight, stopping her from falling backward, and then covered her mouth with his.
Her lips yielded to the invasion of his tongue. She felt utterly possessed.

His breathing grew ragged and he swelled inside her. He was
close. He unclipped one of the clamps and she shrieked as the sensation rushed
back into her tender peak. It felt as if it were on fire. The pain wasn’t for
her pleasure anymore, but his, and she was determined to take whatever he
wanted to give. Still, it took her a few seconds before she turned to offer the
other breast to him.

Grinning, he gave another hard thrust and snapped open the
other clamp. She screamed again, offering her pain to him. He shuddered and
called out her name, and she knew he was coming as his cock pulsed deep in her
pussy.

“Holy fuck,” she said. She had no idea that they’d hurt
worse coming off than they had going on, but she knew she’d take it all over
again for the pleasure he’d given her and the way it turned him on.

At last he let go and wrapped both arms around her. Spent,
they lay down in the sand, letting it stick to their sweat-soaked bodies. In
between breaths he kissed her behind the ears and she nibbled on his neck.

I love you
, she almost said. What they had done was
so intense it felt strange not to say it. There had been a moment as he came
when she didn’t care what he did with the chain, or her, as long as it pleased
him. That was a kind of love, wasn’t it? But it didn’t mean they had what it
took to be something more than a hot fuck, or to last past a few days.

Not unless he felt something too. She searched his eyes but
couldn’t read them other than to tell that he was satisfied and tired. He
really must not be sleeping well. Then again he’d come twice. Most men would be
ready to roll over and fall asleep.

“We should get going,” he said. “Just give me a few
minutes.”

“Uh-huh.” She didn’t have any place she’d rather be. She
scooted along the sand until she could cradle his head against her chest,
ignoring the yelps her bottom gave. For a moment he relaxed there, his face
nestled between her breasts. His eyes closed. She stroked his hair.

Then he jerked bolt upright and pulled away. “This isn’t a
good idea,” he said. He took the condom off, then tugged up his pants and
zipped them.

She glared at him, bitter that she’d been feeling so tender
toward him. “I know you don’t love me,” she said, her voice rising more than
she intended. “But it seems as if a few minutes after we’re done having sex,
you don’t even
like
me very much.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. He looked vulnerable, and
that was something she hadn’t expected. She would have been less surprised if
he’d admitted it.

“I do like you,” he said. “Very much, in fact.”

“So what is your problem?”

He sighed. After a moment, he sat down beside her. “That’s a
long story. Let me sit with you for a while. But don’t let me fall asleep.”

“You’re tired. It’s okay. Lots of men fall asleep after
sex.”

“I need you to promise.”

She nodded slowly. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” He reached for her hand and held it. His hand
felt warm and strong. “Where are you from, Teresa?”

“America.”

He laughed. “I knew
that
from your accent
.
I
don’t pretend to know where every state is, but I’ve a broad general idea.
Where from?”

“I was born in upstate California—a place called Crescent
City.”

“And how’d you get in the movie business?”

“I majored in film at UCLA, got an internship, and the rest
is history. I wanted to be a director once, but I found I liked traveling even
more than I liked movies. No job is perfect, but this one seems pretty close.”

“I get the feeling you don’t respect your boss.”

“Stegner? No, I guess I don’t. But I don’t have to spend a
ton of time with him either, and he’s not the only one I work for. Either way,
I’ve been in a lot of exotic places.”

“Do you watch the films you’ve scouted for?”

She smiled. “Usually. Film is never as good as actually
being there though, so it’s usually disappointing. Of course there’s more
adventure in a movie than there is in my stays—good thing too. But my memories
are sharper than the pictures. Still, it’s interesting to see what they do with
it. I’ll even watch this train wreck of a movie.”

He nodded. “I probably will too. If it makes it to this part
of the world anyway. Might even be worth going to the mainland for.” He looked
out over the ocean.

“Whatcha thinking?” she asked.

“I’m thinking it’s an hour until sunset and I want to watch
it with you. If I’d planned ahead, I would have packed something for us to eat
for dinner.”

“Isn’t it Gallagher’s turn to cook?”

“So?”

“I think his plan is for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
I’m willing to go hungry to watch a sunset with you.”

He chuckled and squeezed her hand. “I’m beginning to think
you like me too.”

“Hmm. Maybe I do.”

He looked at her oddly.

“What, is that so strange?” she asked.

“Actually, it is.”

“I know I’m not the only woman who likes the things you do.”
She didn’t add that it annoyed her.

“No. But that’s different than liking me, isn’t it? Just as
me liking the way you react isn’t the same.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m going to
miss you when you’re gone.”

Well, that’s a start.

She put one leg over his and settled back to wait for the
sunset, content.

It was dark when Kyle and Teresa finally got back. As
predicted, there were peanut butter sandwiches on the table. What Kyle hadn’t
expected was a bottle of shiraz in some melting ice in a bucket on the table
and two wineglasses.

“PBJs with style,” remarked Teresa.

He didn’t understand why anyone put peanut butter and jelly
on a sandwich, personally. Americans were strange. They didn’t even like
Vegemite. But the wine bothered him more. When Teresa and Gallagher had
arrived, Gallagher quite clearly wanted to jump Teresa’s bones. He didn’t
strike Kyle as the sort of man to bow out gracefully. Admittedly the sandwiches
did kind of sap the romance of the wine, but still, it seemed he’d made an
effort.

Kyle picked up the bottle suspiciously, but it was still
sealed. It was the less expensive of the brands Roger bought, so it presumably
came from the wine rack in the kitchen. The good stuff was in the dungeon. Kyle
set it back down.

“I’m starving,” said Teresa, reaching for one of the
sandwiches.

“Enjoy your tucker, I’m going to make my own.”

“They’re good sandwiches,” she said.

He nodded. “Glad you like ’em.” He walked into the kitchen,
aware again how very tired he was. Teresa probably assumed that he would spend
the evening with her. He wanted to, but he doubted he’d be much company. He’d
averaged two hours of sleep for the past three days and that wasn’t enough even
for him. He didn’t know when the last night he’d gotten a solid six was.

Drinking any of the wine would only make that worse.

He made himself three sandwiches out of Vegemite and cheese,
piled them on a plate and went back to sit with Teresa. To his surprise,
Gallagher was there.
I must be tired if I didn’t hear him.

The man caught his hostile glance. “Don’t worry, I’m not
staying.” He lifted the wine bottle and for a moment Kyle considered taking the
bottle away with him. It would be worth it to be alone with Teresa again. That
feeling too was strange. He’d never objected to playing in front of an
audience. In fact, he liked the way it made subs squirm. He looked over at
Teresa and grinned, imagining.

Gallagher tore off the seal, popped the cork and then poured
wine into the glasses, setting one in front of Teresa and the other where Kyle
had sat the evening before. Then, true to his word, he went away—not up to his
room but outside.

Teresa watched him go and then lifted her glass. “To you and
me.” Maybe she thought “us” was overstating the case. Kyle felt he should at
least drink to that. He sat down, lifted the wineglass and clinked it to hers.
Together they took a long sip.

It had been a while since he’d had any wine—he was usually a
beer-drinking man—so he wasn’t sure, but it seemed to him the taste was a
little off. He’d checked the bottle though, and had seen Gallagher uncork it.
Maybe it was just old. He looked at Teresa.

“What do you think of the wine?” he asked.

“Tastes good. Seems y’all make pretty good wine.”

“I thought only Southerners said y’all.”

“Well, one does what one can to cover for English’s lack of
a second person plural.”

He laughed. “
That
sounds like my UCLA girl.”

She looked inordinately pleased by that, and it took him a
moment to realize he’d said “my”.

Well, damn straight she’s mine. At least for a day or two
more.

“To sex,” she said and lifted her glass. “Do you have any
idea how much my bottom hurts sitting on this chair? All your fault, you
wicked, wicked man.”

Against his better judgment, he clinked his glass to hers
and drank more. He liked the fact that she carried the reminder of what they
had done with her.

He started eating his sandwiches. The alcohol seemed to be
hitting him already, and he usually had a good tolerance for the stuff. There
had been a time when he’d used it to self-medicate for his PTSD, but Roger had
helped him pull out of that. Now he only drank when the dreams had stayed away
for a while.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He didn’t feel okay. He was so tired his vision was
starting to blur. “I’m sorry, Teresa, I’d better go to bed.”

He got up. He shouldn’t be surprised he could still get up,
or make it up the stairs, but both took an effort. He was aware of Teresa
behind him. If he fell over, she’d mother him, and god only knew what she’d
think of his ability to hold his booze. He got the door open. He stumbled in
and batted at the door to swing it closed, and fell into bed.

* * * * *

Teresa stuck her hand out to grab the door as it closed,
figuring it would latch shut if it did. She caught it just in time. Now she
wasn’t sure what to do exactly. After a minute of dithering, she opened the
door and peered in.

He was lying quite still on the bed.

Now that’s tired.

He’d told her not to let him fall asleep on the beach and
she’d obeyed. But surely that didn’t apply anymore. Sleep was exactly what he
needed. She slipped into his room and closed the door behind her. Sure enough,
she heard the click of a lock.

She touched his hand but he didn’t move. He was breathing
heavily enough, so she wasn’t too worried. She wondered if she could get his
clothes off so that he’d be more comfortable. His shirt might be hard, but she
was pretty sure she could at least manage his pants.

She removed his sandals and then unzipped his pants. She was
able to get them all the way off without waking him. She took off her clothes
and piled them at the foot of his bed. Then she climbed in next to him. She
managed to get the covers out from under him as well and pulled them over both
of them.

It was too early to be sleepy. So she listened to him
breathe and watched the rise and fall of his chest. She smiled. Such a strong,
capable man, but the wine had hit him hard. She was tempted to slide under the
covers and suck on his cock, but she supposed he needed his sleep. Obviously he
hadn’t been getting enough. Which meant something was bothering him.

Whatever it was, she wanted to take it away. At the same
time, she secretly hoped that something was her. She wasn’t sure he’d know what
to do if he started having feelings for someone. She winced.
I shouldn’t
think that way. There’s no future in this. I should be in the moment. The
problem is that sometimes hopes for the future define what the moment means.

At last she closed her eyes and snuggled. Whatever else
would happen, the moment was warm and comfortable. She pulled up his shirt, lay
her head on his chest and fell asleep.

* * * * *

Terry couldn’t breathe, and that woke her up. There were
hands squeezing her neck. She stared up in horror at Kyle, whose hands they
were. His eyes opened and he stared back, looking as horrified as she felt. He
let go.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked.

Given that he’d been choking her, it didn’t seem a fair
question. “What the fuck do you think
you
were doing?” she asked,
sitting up and rubbing her neck. For all that she had been surprised, she
wasn’t seriously hurt.
I should go to my room where it’s safe.
But she
wanted an answer first.

He gritted his teeth before responding. “Fighting the last
war. I told you not to sleep with me. I told you. Get out.”

A few hours ago she’d been eager to obey his commands. Now
no way was he bossing her around. She stayed put. “You didn’t. You told me not
to let you sleep on the beach, but that wasn’t now. You barely made it up
here.”

“Get out,” he said.

She didn’t budge. “I think you owe me an apology.”

“For?”

“For damn near strangling me!” God, he could be dense
sometimes. Or maybe he was the kind of man who always needed to be right. That
fit all too well, with telling her to call him Sir all the time. She wasn’t
about to call him Sir now.

“I wasn’t strangling—” he started angrily. Then he stopped,
his face softening. “I’m very sorry, Teresa. I was afraid this would happen,
and that’s why I didn’t want to sleep with you. I have nightmares from the wars
I’ve been in and they’re very strong. Usually I just choke a pillow. It wasn’t
about—doesn’t have anything to do with you. For a second, I thought you were a
man with a knife in Iraq. The one who did a job on my face.”

“Do I look like a man with a knife?”

“Not once I got my eyes open.” Laughter played at his eyes.
“No beard, for one thing. I think that may have been what woke me up, is that
you felt wrong. Although the pillow normally has to die first.”

The idea of him strangling a pillow in the middle of the
night suddenly struck her as funny and she laughed. He raised his eyebrows.

She got serious again. “That’s why you don’t get enough
sleep. Nightmares about the war.”

“Yes. Wars.”

She noted he wasn’t insisting on her calling him Sir
anymore. Things were different between them now, and probably always would be.
The silence lengthened. He didn’t know what to say either, apparently.

He’d fought the same wars her country had fought, on the
same side. Risked his life. And now he had nightmares. It didn’t seem fair. If
anything, doing that sort of thing ought to let him sleep soundly, knowing he’d
fought the good fight and all that. Knowing he’d done his best. It was people
like Stegner, wasting their talent, who should have trouble, but she doubted
that was the case.

Kyle finally spoke. “I’m sorry that I laid hands on you. You
should go back to your own room and we won’t risk this again. I’ll leave you
alone.”

That was probably the sensible, safe thing to do. But if she
left him now she knew he’d never sleep with anyone ever. He’d be afraid to. She
shook her head. “No Sir.”

“Excuse me?”

“You stopped when you felt me. You’d stop again.” She wished
she felt as confident as she sounded.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” she insisted, glad she’d taken a few acting
classes. She lifted his shirt and pulled it over his head. He didn’t stop her.
Maybe he was afraid to use his strength against her right now.
Fine. I can
use that.
She pushed his chest until he was lying down again and straddled
him.

“I could order you to go,” he said.

“I’d
like
to be able to say I always obey your
orders, Sir.”

He got the hint.

“For instance, you can tell me right now how you want me to
relax you. Do you want me to suck your cock, Sir? Or rub on it, like this?” She
rubbed her pussy across the length of it and felt it harden under her. It felt
good so she did it again.

The corner of his mouth twitched but he didn’t say anything.

“We could do more if you tell me where the condoms are.”

“The drawer beneath the nightstand.” His face and voice were
still tense, but his shoulders relaxed some.

She reached in, found a condom wrapper and ripped it open.
Then she wiggled back and rolled it over his cock. She pulled on his shaft
until his cock stood straight up, and then positioned herself over it.

“May I, Sir?”

“Yes.”

She lowered herself slowly, feeling him stretch her, and
then slid up again. Maybe he wasn’t safe to tease, but she felt she’d earned
the right.

He folded his arms behind his head and watched. Rather than
looking frustrated, he looked self-assured and in control, which hadn’t been
the reaction she’d expected. She slid him in again, realizing how much she
wanted to take him all, to press her mound against him. It would be easier on
her knees not to hold herself up like that. She was no longer sure who was
teasing whom.

He’s still in control. And I’m serving him. Providing the
entertainment.
His gaze roved her body, lingering for moments on her
breasts. She arched her back.

“Good girl,” he said and she glowed inside.

“You want this to be all about me,” he said.

“Yes.” She wanted to relax him so he could sleep with her
again. Sex was the best way she knew to do that. She wasn’t urgently turned-on,
but she was wet enough that he slid inside her easily.

“But
I
want to feel you coming around me before I
come. So play with yourself while you fuck me.”

She hesitated. He guided her hands, moving one between her
legs, the other to her breasts. “Sometimes you can have me do things to you,
but this time you’re going to do the work.” He grinned.

“Because that will help you get to sleep, Sir?”

“Because I said so.” His gaze was intimate, almost
violating. Even if it was a good enough reason, she wasn’t sure she could do it
without dying of embarrassment. She found a nipple and squeezed as a good faith
effort. He lifted his gaze to her breasts. That made it easier for her to rub
her clit, which felt as good as it always did. It swelled and tingled beneath
her touch. She rubbed harder, feeling her cheeks getting warm.

“That’s good, Teresa,” he said softly.

She closed her eyes, thinking she could pretend she was
alone and that would make it easier, but his cock buried in her pussy made that
impossible. She pinched and pulled on her tits, feeling the passion grow. She
had never lingered much when she brought herself off, and she wasn’t in the
mood to now, even if he did want a show. She moved her fingers rapidly, rubbing
her clit almost too hard in her urgency.

Moving his hips, he pushed deep inside her. That pushed her
toward the edge and almost over. But she resisted, knowing he wasn’t close yet.
She’d always been happy to take her orgasms whenever they came, but this time
that wasn’t the point. Even
her
climax was about
his
pleasure,
this time.

He moved his hands from under his head and settled them on
her hips, thrusting harder, faster. She watched his chest rise and fall as he
exerted himself, heard his breathing get more ragged.