Pretty in Kink (11 page)

Diego approached a black-and-chrome, newer-model pickup
truck. He pulled open the passenger door and swung her around to the seat. Her
mouth fell open. The truck was loaded with options, the dashboard full of knobs
and sliders and an impressive sound system. The gearshift stood tall and sleek
on the center floorboard, the tan leather bucket seats tempting to sample. The
rich yet rugged power of the vehicle emphasized the ever-changing layers of
this man.

“Go ahead, get in. I promise the truck won’t bite. Well,
it
won’t, but I might.” He added a wink to that.

Her loins stirred. “Yes, something tells me you have it in
you to do just that.” She slid into the cool, slick seat.

“Buckle up.” He stood there in the open door until she
clicked the seat belt into place.

He closed the door with a quick shove. She couldn’t take her
gaze off him. He made such a stunning picture. The evening sun glowed behind
him, coupled with that predator’s gait in the jeans and t-shirt. He exuded confidence
and a reckless aura as he rounded the front of the vehicle. His hair, raked
back off his face, swept his shoulders when he leaped up in the truck and
leaned toward her.

His mouth hovered a half inch from hers and his gaze latched
to hers like radar. “And you want me to do it too, don’t you, babe?”

Britt stared, unable to croak out a response. As if he took
pity on her, he planted a smacking kiss on her lips and tore out of the parking
lot.

He traveled down the coast road, window wide open. His big hand
gripped the gearshift as he moved through each gear with ease and expertise.
The fast, loud machine gave her a rush she couldn’t quite suppress. It vibrated
against her rear much as his motorcycle had. Diego zipped in and out of
traffic, following the road as it curved inland then back out to track the
shoreline. She eyed him with furtive glances, drawn to the strong profile and
windblown hair, groaning to herself when her eyes traveled the span of his
muscled arm. She could imagine its long length wrapped around her waist, that
big hand stroking her breasts, her pussy.

Stop it, Britt, you pitiful fool.
No attachments
allowed. He may seem perfect in a scoundrel sort of way, but sooner or later
he’ll lie, he’ll cheat, he’ll screw up, just like they all do.

Just like the infamous Scoundrel.

As they drove farther south toward the northern outskirts of
Tampa, he slid a CD into the player, pressed a button. His gaze latched on to
her loose, blowing hair. “Should probably close the window, huh?” He reached
for the button on his armrest.

“No.” She touched his other arm. It sent a ripple of heat
through her blood. “Please, leave it open. I enjoy the feel of the wind rushing
through my hair.”

He crossed his eyes and let out a playful growl. “Rushing is
right. Sweetheart, you give me the biggest rush.”

She smiled at him and wondered when this cloud she floated
on would give way beneath her feet. “Thank you.”

He opened the console, dug inside and held up a Tootsie Pop
sucker. “Want one?”

“Uh, no, that’s okay.” She giggled. “When did you start
sucking on lollipops?”

He unwrapped the cherry candy and popped it in his mouth.
The stick poked out between his clamped teeth as he sucked. He glanced over at
her and spoke around the sucker. “Just quit smoking. Decided you’re too classy
to be around a dude that smokes, and this might help wean me off, especially
when you’re looking so good.” He pulled the sucker out with a
pop
and
wagged it at her. “You taste way better than this candy. Makes my palms sweat.
Makes me nervous and wanna reach for a cigarette.”

Her face warmed. She recalled the photograph Lexi had taken
of her sucking on a very similar lollipop. An odd sensation washed over her,
but similar to the tip-of-the-tongue syndrome, it faded from her attention. His
words took its place.

“I make you nervous?”

His tongue snaked out—mm-mm, the one that had rocked her
universe—and he licked on the cherry ball. The
slurp
noise it made
sounded over the wind and faint rock music easing from the speakers. The way it
had slurped on her pussy.

“Damn right. Just looking at you gets me all hot and quivery
inside.”

Wow. Just wow. She didn’t know what to say to that, but he
sure made her feel the same way.

Palm trees lined small-town streets, their fronds tossed on
the winds that blew in ahead of the coming storm. Dusk moved in on daylight in
a layer of pinks and mauves behind the angry, distant storm cloud. Kansas
rocked on about a wayward son, begging listeners not to cry no more. Britt knew
the tune to be from the seventies. It fit him, the hard rock, the memorable
tune, the thoughtful lyrics. Yet she knew he couldn’t be a day over thirty.

“How old are you?” she asked over the music as he slowed and
turned right down his long asphalt drive.

He shot her a glance as he downshifted. “Thirty-one. Why?
Too much of an old man for you?”

She giggled as he drove farther behind the house than her
first visit here, pulled up to a tan stucco, detached garage she hadn’t noticed
before, and shut off the engine. Across the neatly cut lawn and through the scatter
of swaying palms and weeping willows, she spotted a dock jutting out toward the
choppy Gulf waters.

“No, not old considering I’m twenty-six, myself. It’s just
your music style. Old classic rock, born before you were, I’m sure, yet it’s so
you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He said it with a grin as
he slid from the seat, came around to her side and opened the door for her. “I
think.”

She climbed out and stared up at him. “It was meant as one.
Your style is unique. I like everything…about you.”

“In spite of Lexi?” He slammed the door shut.

“I’m my own person, Diego. I can make my own judgments and
decisions.”

The brief flash of tender lust in his eyes didn’t go
unnoticed by either her sight or her libido. “Then judge this,” he rasped.
“Tell me just what you think.” He cupped her jaw, swooped down and captured her
mouth with his. The kiss demanded her full attention, urgent yet gentle. It
tasted of cherry candy and danger with a promise of more to come. She missed
the scent and flavor of tobacco, but decided she liked this Diego too, the bad
boy trying to be good.

Trying.

Strange, here she’d transformed from good to naughty, while
he’d gone from naughty to good.

He sucked the life from her, making her heart quake in her
chest. She whimpered, her ass and lower back slamming against the truck. Ever
the protective male, he gathered her up and molded her body to his. Unable to
resist, she slid her hands around and fisted them in his shirt.

He yanked his mouth from hers, leaving her empty and lonely.
“Ah, you want it so bad, don’t you, Britt?” Diego rested his forehead on hers,
his fingers buried in the hair at the nape of her neck. “Don’t you?”

“Yes…yes, I do,” she whispered.

He stepped away so abruptly she stumbled. But Diego had a
hold on her.

In more ways than one.

“Better get inside. A storm’s a-brewin’,” he murmured and
led her to the back door.

Yes, a storm’s a-brewin’, all right.

She followed him up a walk of evenly spaced, pebbled stones.
Britt glanced up and down the street, noting the older, well-kept neighborhood,
the stucco ranch and two-story houses lining the winding asphalt. Each home sat
on at least two acres of land, and some backed to the water, while others’ rear
lots edged the coast highway they’d just come in on. The park-like setting with
the massive, aging oaks and various species of palms gave her an odd sensation
in her chest, kind of warm and gooey…like that melting bonbon.

The corners of her mouth curved up at the memory of that
reference.

He led her to a set of side stairs that led up to a large
rear deck overlooking the sea. He took the steps by twos and stood at the top,
looking down at her. “You’re sexy, hot, absolutely picture-perfect.” His voice
came out as thick as warmed honey. Like sex with him did. It made her insides quiver
and she knew at that moment she’d sleep with him again tonight.

Ha-ha. As if that had been in question.

Britt offered a thank-you smile. She climbed the steps, her
gaze on the blinking storm cloud hovering out to sea. The orange streaks of the
setting sun filtered below the puffy mass and shone onto the surface of the
rough waters. She caught the salty fragrance on a gust of wind. Its burst of
power tossed the drooping limbs of a willow in Diego’s backyard. Palm trees
dotted his yard and hugged the dune line. The grass sloped down and met with a
carpet of packed white sand where an empty dock stood. The tide raced in,
almost reaching the grass, and she listened to the rush and power of it.
Mesmerized, Britt walked to the end of the sundeck and set her palms on the
rail.

“No,
this
is picture-perfect. I love your house.”

He stepped up behind her, his mouth against her ear.
“Really?” He whispered it, his hands skimming her arms. She shivered at his
next words and struggled to keep her eyes open. “Well, how about turning around
and telling me what you think of the place where I’m going to make love to
you?”

“What do…?”

He turned her toward the opposite end of the deck. She
didn’t know how she’d missed it. It had to have been because of the
spellbinding ocean with its cap of showy sun and raging storm clouds. She
couldn’t think of any other reason to explain her negligence at not noticing
the steaming hot tub sprawled beneath the cedar pergola structure. The
formation was supported by heavy reddish posts and large joists with open
rafters extended out to cover the hot tub. Dappled evening light filtered
through the overhead, vine-lined trellises lending the area a romantic,
dusk-kissed aura.

Her gaze scanned, taking it all in. The briny breeze stirred
the overhead vines, but there was more, much more. A padded folding chair stood
next to the whirlpool…with glittering silver handcuffs dangling from its metal
frame.

She stared at it, stunned. Something about it nagged at her.
What was it?

Oh god, no.

The picture of herself cuffed to a similar chair blipped in
her mind. She rubbed and pinched at her throat, gawking at the familiar setup.
Could it be… Did he—was he playing her for a fool? No, please, not Diego. A
niggling suspicion clouded over the glow inside her from moments ago, the way
the storm clouds drowned out the sunshine.

She forced herself to recall all the times this same dread
had seized her. She couldn’t allow herself to become distracted by him for
once.

Remember, remember…

She’d met him in the same store where the pictures had been
developed.

And lost.

Then he’d known her name, almost magically.

Rose petals beneath her bare skin.

Her hands tied to furniture.

Lexi knowing where he lived and rubbing him the wrong way.

The cherry sucker.

And now a chair with handcuffs?

So reminiscent of the kinky snapshots.

She tried to ignore the disappointment that stabbed at her
gut, but instead she focused on the rising anger.

Her gaze riveted to Diego. “Where did you— What the hell’s
going on here?”

He blinked, and the innocent confusion that flashed in his
eyes sent guilt barreling over her suspicion, pushing it further, deeper out of
her grasp.

“What’s going on? I, uh…what do you mean?”

She studied his mannerisms, the still, bewildered stance,
the crease of his brow.

“Where—what do you have planned?”

He shrugged, so innocuous, so believable. “I’m going to fire
up the grill, we’re going to eat, maybe take a swim if weather permits.” His
expression hardened and he looked her in the eye. “And I’m going to see how far
I can push you until you beg me to stop by saying the word ‘pink’.”

That was it? Was it really?

She eyed him for a long moment. Yet she saw nothing but
eagerness and sex appeal. For the life of her, she couldn’t detect one shred of
deceit.

Like a dog in training, all he had to do was utter her safe
word and she’d salivate, all else flying right out the window.

The “pink” challenge hovered in the breeze, teasing her,
right along with his gleam of determination. It sent a tremor of expectation up
her spine, edging out the guardedness and letting in the anticipation. How
could she resist that, and how could she have thought he had anything to do
with the pictures Lexi had taken? How ridiculous to think he somehow knew about
the photos of her half naked and handcuffed to a chair. For that to happen,
Lexi would’ve had to have treated him to a peek, and she knew Lexi would never
do such a rotten thing to her. Not to mention Lexi and Diego hated each other.

No. This all had to be a coincidence and her just being paranoid.

She eased out a breath and let the uncertainties slide away.
Rubbing her sweaty palms on her pants, she murmured, “Then you better hurry
because I’m starved, and it seems a storm is brewing.”

Busted.

The word echoed in Diego’s head. What a stupid fool he’d
been. He’d seen the look of recognition in her wide-eyed gaze as soon as she’d
spotted the chair with the cuffs. Her expression had turned to suspicion, which
had evolved into panic. He didn’t have to ask her if the photos had clicked in
her mind. It’d been apparent by the trembling rage that simmered below the
surface for one brief moment. But somehow he’d convinced her of his innocence
by a shrug and a few words that had seemed to hit the mark.

From here on out, man, you either quit the game you’re
playing, or don’t make it so damn obvious. A chair and handcuffs just like in
the photo?
Really?
You idiot.

But he couldn’t tell her. Not right now, anyway. She’d
probably whack the chair over his head and leave him for dead floating in the
hot tub. He’d tell her about the picture mix-up someday. Really, he would. But
he’d only just gotten a taste of her, and he wasn’t going to risk never getting
the full-course meal. Hell, she was the whole meal—appetizer, salad, entrée, dessert.
Even the goddamn drinks and after-dinner mint.

And the most irresistible thing about it? She didn’t even
know how intriguing and special she was. It was as if he were teaching her
about herself.

He heaved a sigh and got right to work on dinner, firing up
the grill and tossing the pre-patted burgers onto the flames. She settled onto
the glider bench, so while the food cooked, he slipped inside and fetched the
salad, pickles, chips and wine. Diego poured two glasses, crossed the deck and
offered her one. Damn, how he loved the serene glow in her eyes as she stared
out to sea. The elusive storm cloud continued to brew offshore, and she eyed it
like a fascinated child. The wind stirred around her, tossing her hair and
sending him a whiff of her subtle feminine scent.

She took the wineglass, smiled up at him, pushed off on the
deck with her foot to set herself into a gentle glide.

He leaned down, planted one hand on the arm of the bench and
halted her flight.

Before he could speak, she said, “Your home is just lovely.
Do you own or lease?”

“Own.” God, he just wanted to gobble her up. That pouty
mouth sipping the dark-red liquid, he could dine on it for months at a time.
“Bought it after my divorce.”

“Ah, I wondered about that.” She scooted aside and he slid
onto the seat next to her warm thigh. “Where does your ex-wife live?”

“Here in Tampa, a few minutes away. I gave her the house in
the settlement.” The last thing he wanted was to talk about Carolyn. “I’m glad
you like the place. The hot tub,” he said, gesturing toward the steamy,
bubbling pool to maneuver the conversation onto a more interesting path, “is my
stress-relieving tool.”

“You?” She grinned, eyes sparkling. It sent a thrill of
exhilaration to his midsection. “A man like you stressing out? Now that’s kind
of hard to believe.”

His mind ticked off any number of stressors, from Carolyn,
to the painful memories of his son, to the large sum of taxes Chopper Shop owed
the IRS within the next few weeks. But Diego wasn’t one to mix pain with
pleasure. At least not that sort of pain.

“A man like me? Are you stereotyping me, the biker dude?” He
said it with a trace of humor in his voice, longing to hear how she viewed him.

“Not at all. But the obvious fact is, your presence implies
dominance. You’re a strong man, almost reckless and detached from everything.”
She’d practically purred it, eyeing him over the crystal rim of the stemware.
Her gaze swept him so thoroughly he could have sworn the wind had blown the
grill against him.

Detached? Did he appear that way to others? Had he let the
divorce and the accident with his son Tyler disconnect him from the world? It
saddened him to think such a thing could be true of him. At some fuzzy, distant
point in his past, he’d been outgoing, along with all her other adjectives, but
detached hadn’t been one of them. He’d lived deep inside that bottomless black
hole for a time, but no more than anyone else would in mourning. Certainly not
to the extent Carolyn continued to wallow. For him, time had moved on, even
against his will. Since then, he’d learned to cope and had broken through that
wall of isolation—hadn’t he?

He sipped his wine, tried to think with objectiveness. Maybe
there were just a few traces of despair and loneliness left behind. He hadn’t
thought of it, hadn’t noticed it or dwelled on it until she’d brought it to his
attention. But it was worth taking into consideration. There were things in his
newly altered life that would always trouble him. Yet people like Britt, and
the excitement and hope she made him feel inside, were what made it worth
clawing his way out of the pit. So with fierce determination, he vowed to
modify that “detached” image others might have of him. And this woman would be
the one to help him fix it.

He ducked his head and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth.
She let out a sigh that more resembled a groan of pleasure. “You bet I’ve felt
reckless and out of control ever since I first laid eyes on you. No detachments
for me where you’re concerned. I want you. And I’m going to make love to you tonight,
very soon.”

The beef sizzled on the grill as she stared up at him. The
hearty aroma of meat juices wafted across the space and mingled with her spicy
scent.

“Diego, I…”

“Shh.” He planted a finger across her lips and rose,
extending a hand to her. “Come on inside and help me carry out the rest of the
condiments and things. We’ll eat at the picnic table under the pergola roof.”

Next to the hot tub and chair.

“Sounds perfect.”

“No, you’re perfect.”

She arched a brow and placed her soft palm on his, got to
her feet and led him toward the slider door. As she walked ahead of him, her
hips swaying, he thought he’d never seen a sexier ass than the one poured into
those snug pants. Through the thin white fabric, he could detect the faint
outline of her panties. A surge of desire settled heavy in his balls when an
image of her naked beneath him flickered in his mind. But he looked away,
determined to hold himself in check until he had her right where he wanted her.

Handcuffed to the chair.

Then in the hot tub all pliant and eager for his cock.

“Can I see the rest of your house?”

“Sure.” He set his hands on her shoulders and guided her
through the open patio door. He gestured to the left then the right as they
stepped inside. “Breakfast nook here, kitchen opposite side of the bar.”

Her gaze touched his home in a caress. It made him crazy
with need, as if she’d stroked his dick and left him wanting more. “Nice and
cozy. You must love sitting here eating breakfast in the morning, looking out
onto the beach.”

“I hope to sit here and eat with you one morning. Maybe
tomorrow?”

Her eyes locked with his over her shoulder, but she didn’t
respond.

He decided not to push it and led her through the wide arch
instead. “Living room here, not too fancy. But then you’ve already seen it.”

She sat on the leather sofa where he’d first devoured those
pictures, opposite the end where he’d tied her wrists up before Lexi had banged
on the door. Her body melted into the cushion, testing its softness.

“Great place to hang out. Wow, I didn’t notice the huge
flat-screen TV before.” Her gaze flitted to the right side of the entertainment
center. “And somehow it doesn’t surprise me to see that huge sound system
setup.”

He shrugged as thunder rumbled in the distance. “Couldn’t
live without my music. Here, let me show you where the bathroom is.”

She shot to her feet and followed him down the hall.

“Full bath here, spare bedroom across from that. And at the
end is my office. Spend a lot of time in there at night working the books for
Chopper Shop.” He angled left toward the room he wanted to show her the most.
“And here we have the master bedroom with another bath.” He stopped next to the
bed.

But her stare did a quick scan, as if the room didn’t
interest her, or maybe it made her nervous, he wasn’t sure which. She turned
back into the hallway and he followed her to his office.

“This room is definitely you.” Her eyes trailed the line of
vintage motorcycle pictures on the walls and the shelves of model replicas.
“You really get into your Harleys, don’t you?”

“It’s been the love of my life since about the age of eight.
Started my own bike business about ten years ago. Couldn’t see myself doing
anything else.”

Her gaze danced with amusement. “Neither can I.”

“Thanks. I think.”

She giggled but cut herself off when she spied his desk and
glided toward the picture. She picked it up and studied it.

He flinched. The urge overpowered him to snatch it from her
hands and keep her from viewing that raw, emotional area of his space. But he
somehow suppressed the strong impulse.

“Aw, what an adorable little boy.”

He didn’t know how he’d allowed that to happen. He’d let her
into his private world of despair and she’d taken an innocent shot at his
emotions. Still, the persistent knot in his gut loosened just a tiny bit.
“Thanks. My son, Tyler.”

Britt spun around. Surprise flashed in her expression. “You
have a son? I-I didn’t know…”

Had
a son.

He strode across the room, eased the framed photo from her
grip and set it back on the desktop. “Yes, yes I do. But I’ll tell you about
him some other time.” He forced a grin, sniffed the air. “For now, I think our
dinner’s burning. You as hungry as I am?”

She stood there empty-handed, as if he’d slapped her across
the face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Sorry? For what?” He chuckled, but didn’t give her time to
answer. Instead he grabbed her hand and pulled her into safer territory. “Come
on, babe. Let’s go eat before the storm moves in. And then…”

His big hand dwarfed hers, possessed it. She let him lead
her into the kitchen to gather the remaining items for their meal, then back
onto the deck and under the pergola structure. She tried to push aside the
guilt as she lined up the ketchup, salt and pepper along with the potato wedges
he’d had warming in the oven. There’d been something there, some tender chord
she’d touched by inquiring about his son. She studied his back, the wide
shoulders as he set out paper plates and plastic utensils, and tried to picture
him with a tiny baby in his arms, or a toddler as she estimated the boy to be
in the picture. Before she could imagine it, he reached for her, spun her
around and guided her back into the glider.

“Slide your sweatpants off.”

“Do what?”

“You heard me. Take them off.”

She guessed there wasn’t going to be an “and then” after
eating, but rather a “now” before they’d even taken a bite. A thrill went
through her, as if he’d turned on the game-playing switch again. She was
starting to see a definite line between day-to-day life and sex games where
Diego Mansini was concerned.

“B-but what about the neighbors?”

He squatted on his haunches in front of her. It seemed the
heat of his body reached through the cool breeze and embraced her. His gaze
first caressed with gentleness, then with urgency.

“As you can see, my house sits closer to the shore than
everyone else’s. Besides,” he said with a hoarse tone, “I think you’d enjoy it
if someone watched you. Or us. Wouldn’t you, Britt? Just like when everyone
watched you with Michelle.”

The implication of his words sent a backlash of desire tearing
through her system. She tried to imagine him doing things to her, wicked
things, right out here in the open for someone to see. Her panties dampened.
She bit her bottom lip and glanced around.

True, his lot was situated on a mini peninsula of sorts so that
from this angle at the back of his house no other homes could be viewed. And
though the roof of the pergola allowed some dusky light to filter through, it
offered a shadowed area that could serve as some visual protection from prying
eyes. Still, even though dusk moved in, the possibility existed of someone
walking the beach or boating by and catching sight of them.

But the coming storm erupting out to sea had cleared the
area of any passersby for the time being. She had no excuse not to embark on
this new journey. With the exception of catalog shoots, the idea of parading
around in nothing but her panties outdoors for the first time in her life sent
her pulse into a rhythm she couldn’t slow down.

In truth though, she wanted the fast ride he offered, and
being in her panties would somehow be way different than her bikini, like at
the rally.

And she was dying to experience that difference.

She stood and pushed the pants down her legs. The cool but
muggy air caressed her body and sent prickly goose bumps across her skin. Britt
heard the slight intake of breath from him and knew a moment of victory she
hadn’t expected. The touch of his gaze moved over her like a lover’s practiced
hand.

She stepped out of the pants, but she paused when he said,
“The panties, shirt and bra too.”

Her gaze snapped to his. “What?”

“You heard me. Take it all off.”

When she hesitated, he stood and towered over her. With his
gaze drilling into hers, he lifted her shirt over her head. Her nipples
hardened against her bra, though she realized it had nothing to do with her
flesh being exposed to the breeze. His stare dipped and took in the white lacy
garment and matching panties. But he didn’t touch her. His eyes did that for
him, and she felt them as if his hot palms grazed every inch of her breasts and
hips.

“You’re sinfully gorgeous,” he rasped. “And god, I can’t
wait to get inside you.”

Britt stifled a groan of pleasure mixed with shock. Her new
wayward sex drive took over again. She remembered his huge jutting cock, the
way it had poised over her pussy that night, threatening to plunge into her and
fill her up. His words and the wicked memories were the equivalent of his silky
tongue swiping across her clitoris. It engorged and ached with the need to be
touched, licked again.