Poker Face (18 page)

“Is it everything you hoped it would be?” she asked.

He froze. His eyes found hers in the dark. “It’s more. What about
you?”

“Me what?”

“Is it everything you hoped it would be?” he repeated.

Her teeth caught his lip, and he groaned. “Well, I did have some
pretty extreme fantasy, but I guess this will do.”

He smiled, “Oh really?” Her hand was rubbing over his jeans, rubbing
over what was rapidly growing under them. Curiosity had him grasping her
shoulders, forcing her to slow down. “I want to hear more about these
fantasies.”

“I can’t really tell you. It’s more like I’ll have to show you.”
Her smile brightened. “Want a demonstration now or later?”

Women. She was teasing him. But it was fun. He’d play along.
“Okay. Show me.”

One minute he was on his knee’s kissing this amazing woman, the
next he was flat on his back, wondering what the hell was happening.

“Take off your pants, “she ordered before she darted off the bed.
She swung open the closet door.

He did as he was told, stripped off his pants and socks, and sat
on the bed, eager, watching her rummage through the closet. “Um, can I ask what
you’re doing?”

“Shh, give me a second…” He couldn’t help chuckling as she dug
deeper in all the chaos of his and her clothes smashed together on the rod.
“Wait. These will work….” She turned, the corners of her gorgeous mouth pulled
up, her eyes lit with a happiness that caused a painful tightening in his
chest. Good Lord, Lillian had been right, hadn’t she? Her daughter
was
his one chance at true happiness. In a sense, he’d known Megan since she was
ten. Were they always destined to be together? He found himself hoping so.

He nodded at the contents she’d pulled out of the closet.

“Four of my ties?”  He’d always hated those ties. They were ugly
as hell: paisley, polka dotted, flashy, all gifts from people that obviously
didn’t know him at all. “And one really sexy red scarf? Mmm I’d like to see you
wearing that, and only that...”

He reached for her, but she eluded his searching hands. She was a
quick little thing, he had to give her that. But he was quicker, once he had
his hands on her, he pulled her on top the bed, so he could have his way with
her. Slow and easy. Like he’d fantasied about a dozen times or more. Her knee
on the mattress kept him from doing just that. She ran her hands along the
length of the scarf, folding in over.  “Not yet. Now, turn around….”

 A brow shot up, but he obeyed.

She bound his eyes, and the room went black, he felt her tie a
knot in the scarf on the back of his head. He felt her looping the ties around
his ankles and wrist, tying him to the bed post, spread eagle. Oh shit, she was
serious. What had he gotten himself into? “Um Filly, maybe you need to
elaborate on these fantasy’s. See if it’s something I’m in to.”

If she started whipping him… well, let’s just say that wouldn’t go
over to well. He wasn’t in to pain. Kinky, he could do. Torture, not happening.

He felt her move next to the bed. Heard a chair angled beside him.
Then she was sitting. He could tell by the sound of her voice: where it was
coming from and how far away. “Shh, I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what
you’re thinking. I have several things here.” He felt a breeze like she was
actually holding up what was in her hand. “Oh, sorry, I forgot you can’t see.”
Great. She thought this was funny. He heard her cell make a sound. “Did you
just take a picture?”

“Okay, you have to guess what I have in my hands. Simple enough?”

“Yeah, but…” he heard her shaking something, then “wissh”
something cold hit his stomach and he yelped like a sissy. This was easy. He
already knew what it was, and was about to tell her when her tongue warmed
where he had been cold. Oh man, he liked this game. “wissh” foam was squirted
along his erection, ending with a huge glob on the head. His hips came up off
the bed when her mouth worked on cleaning it up. “Mmm, sweet.” The vibration of
her Mmm had him feeling like he was already going to have an orgasm, and the
game had just gotten started.

“Whip cream. Do I get to do this to you?” he choked out.

“Maybe. Okay. Brace yourself.”

Doing as he was told, he held his breath, tensing every muscle in
his body in anticipation. “err!” slipped from his mouth. A shiver ran through
his body.

“I warned you to be ready.”

A piece of ice was placed on his balls, shrinking them to high
heaven. “Okay. Okay. Enough!” He moaned fighting the restraints for the first
time. But like last time, anywhere the ice chips went, her warm tongue
followed. Surprisingly, when she got to his nipples, he was really getting into
it.

“Ice. I definitely get to do this to you.”

“Patience, honey.”

“Did you just call me honey?”

“Final item. This one’s going to be harder.”

“Do I need to brace myself?”

“Oh no. This one you’re gonna like.”

He felt the faintest, barely there tickle. It circled his nipples,
trailed down over his stomach, causing muscles to quiver in its wake. The
tickling continued lower, down over his sensitive groin area, along his penis,
and it jerked in response. Hell, his whole body jerked in response. She was
right about it feeling good, wrong about it being harder to guess. “A feather.
That’s all you got, Filly? I can do better.” She removed his blindfold. But not
the restraints. He glanced at an arm still tied to the bed post. “Aren’t you
forgetting something?”

“Nope. I’m not done with you yet.” She climbed on the bed,
straddled his waist, and eased herself down on him, nice and slow. His
fingertips traced her spine as she leaned forward placing her warm lips on his.
She moved on top of him, and he couldn’t resist bucking his hips. Shit. Sex was
amazing. How had he lived without it for so long? More important question… how
had he lived without her?

nsations spread throughout his entire body. Pleasure building to
point of exploding. He gritted his teeth fighting off a too-early orgasm.  He
gripped her hip bones, his fingers leaving marks as he helped her hurtle them
both toward a mind blowing release. Up. Down. Up. Down. They both shattered at
the same time. Megan went limp, her breast crushing into his chest as she
collapsed down.  Her hands combed through his hair, as she covered his left cheek
with thankful kisses murmuring, “That was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” slipped out of his mouth. And she was. So
fucking amazing it frightened the hell out of him.

Her head came up, her hands resting along his jaw as she seeked
out his eyes in the dark. She smiled.

He
felt like now was the time to say… something, anything. She was expecting it.
He could sense it. But he was a reluctant asshole and he said nothing, just
tightened his hold on her. Maybe he didn’t have to say it. Maybe she already
knew.

“Wait. Did you see that?” The tone of his voice made her freeze.
“Hold up. Something’s not right.” He lifted her off him, settled her on the bed
and went to the window.

*****

Drew’s naked flesh lit with a strange orange glow. Light danced on
the dark walls. His hands fisted on the window sill. Megan slid out of bed, and
dressed quickly. An overwhelming nausea hit her hard, call it women’s
intuition, or a response to the look of terror displayed on his face as he
turned from the window, she knew it was bad. Really bad.

“What is it, Drew? What did you see?”

He tugged up a pair of jeans, not even taking the time to fasten
the top button.
 
His bare feet thumped through the old house as he ran, his
fist pounding on every bedroom door he passed.

She struggled to keep up. Out of breath. Trembling. “What’s going
on. Answer me dammit!”

His eyes met hers for a brief moment, and he choked out, “The barn
is on fire!” The screen door slapped the side of the house. And he was gone.
Out into the night. Megan stepped out onto the porch and she nearly sank to the
ground, and she would have, except the adrenaline kicked in. She gasped,
bracing one hand on the house for support, the other hand covering her mouth.

Drew was running full speed across the yard towards the burning
barn. Flames licked the eaves, up and out from under the rusted tin roof. The
sound of frightened horses, their screams, carried in the night. Without
thinking she darted out into the blackness after him, numb to the pain of her
bare feet over the dry ground. Twigs snapped, pricking her flesh, but she never
flinched. She screamed for Drew to wait. Wait for what? Oh crap. She needed to
go back. Call 9-1-1.

But she couldn’t leave him. Everything inside her was telling her
not to. She had to be where he was. Had to be.

Glancing back up at the house, she saw the porch light on, Emma
outside, phone in hand, pacing. Griffin leaned a shoulder against the lap
siding a few feet away from Emma, his expression the same as it had always
been, not a care in the world.

The closer Megan got to the fire, the hotter and drier the air
was. It smothered her. Closed up her windpipe. Black smoke rolled out through
the loft opening, mingled with glowing sparks and ash. Both barn doors were
swung wide. She didn’t see Drew anywhere. Please, God, please let him make it
out alive. She tried to move closer shielding her face with a hand, but the
heat forced her to retreat.

Limber cracked and popped inside. The horses began to emerge, one
by one, through the open doors, their hoofs stomping the powdery dust as they
reared and bucked, neighing wildly, charging forward, their long body stretched
out in midair, their instinct to survive driving them mad.

A small portion of the roof gave way, sinking in the middle like
ground giving way during an earthquake. A sob tore from her throat. “Drew! Oh
dear God, No!” Then she saw him, his beautiful tan flesh black with soot. He
was bent to avoid the hot flames licking along the top of the doorway, a rope
in his hands. Angel tugged on the other end of the rope, just as she had that
day with Tink. Outside. Out of danger. Drew clicked his tongue, removed the
rope, and slapped the quivering muscles along the horse’s rear-end, setting her
free.

Tear’s consumed Megan. She ran into Drew, her arms going around
his neck, the momentum of the force of her body clashing with his nearly
knocking him down. Her lips to his ear, “I thought I’d lost you.”

One of his hands went to the small of her back, pressed her to
him. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m okay. Don’t cry.”

Then Emma was there. Griffin. Birdie. All three appearing as if
they’d run all the way from the house, non-stop. That was pretty major for
Birdie. The old woman clutched at her chest. “Drew, he’s in there,” rose over
the noise of the fire eating away at what was left of the barn. Birdie’s face
was pale. Strands of her gray hair sprung free from the bun on the back of her
head. “Tink’s in the barn!”

Drew’s arms fell from around Megan, limp at his sides. Flames were
reflected in the dilated pupils of his eyes, his face hard. “No, he’s not! I
was just in there!”

Birdie stomped a foot, “I’m sure of it! He goes up in that damn
loft. Has a blanket, a picture of Mabel, and a bottle of whiskey up there!”

At that exact moment, what was left of the burning trusses
collapsed, sending glowing embers, smoke and overwhelming heat out in every
direction, causing them all to duck.

It took Griffin, Emma, and Megan to hold Drew back, to keep him
from running in. He fought, jerking and tugging against their hold. Cussing all
of them with everything he had. Megan could feel the muscles along his biceps,
flexing under the hands she was using to hold one of his arms. Just one. And it
took everything she had. Her and Emma barely could control that one arm. If it
hadn’t been for Griffin, Drew would have had his way, went back in on a suicide
mission. But the young guy was stronger than Megan had thought he was. Thank
God.