Tie Me Down: A Loveswept Contemporary Erotic Romance (35 page)

He’d seemed to accept that, but then her still-shaken friends had blown it. They’d told him of the pictures of him they’d found in Chastian’s apartment, of the plans Chastian had had to murder Genevieve and frame Cole for her murder, and the other ones as well. With his bloody history, he’d seemed the perfect fall guy.

According to Roberto, Cole hadn’t said a word when they’d told him. He’d simply hung up the phone without a fuss. But no one had heard from him since.

She’d started out being understanding—after all, he’d done everything imaginable to find his sister’s killer and his single-minded attention had ended up attracting another psychopath, one with an agenda that had threatened his current lover. That had to be hard to swallow—that all the time he thought he’d been in control, someone else had been pulling the strings.

But after a few hours had gone by, she’d progressed to worried and had now hit downright pissed. He had no right to ignore her like this, not after he’d rushed to her rescue and saved her life in such a dramatic fashion. And from such a monster.

When Roberto and Luc had raided Chastian’s house, they’d found every sick and twisted thing imaginable. Photos of the each of his victims as he was torturing them, mementos from each of his murders—and there had been a lot of them. In Louisiana and Mississippi, Alabama and Florida. Nearly seventy-five girls through the years, and he’d kept pictures and personal items from each of them.

They’d been so shocked at what they’d found that they’d barely been able to get through the evidence, let alone censor their thoughts. Luc had let it spill that there had also been a slew of pictures of Genevieve, along with a few things she’d thought she’d lost through the years—a gold earring, a scarf, a couple of books, including a collection of Tennessee Williams plays.

The whole place—walls, ceilings, every available space—had been plastered with pictures of women being hurt. Roberto had sworn he’d never seen anything as disturbing in his entire life. Luc kept muttering that he didn’t see how it was possible that they’d worked for Chastian for so long—for years—without ever figuring out what a sick bastard he really was.

The entire squad room—hell, the whole precinct—was in shock. Chastian had received numerous commendations through the years, and the idea that he had come to work every day, had talked and laughed and joked with them when he was torturing and killing women on the side, seemed too much for many of the cops to accept.

Genevieve was having the easiest time believing it, but then, she’d gotten a chance to meet his psychoses up close and personal. She couldn’t stop the shudder that
ripped through her. And she prayed that she would never have to live through something like that again.

But looking on the bright side—if there was one—at least it was finally over. Case closed. Chastian was dead, the paperwork was finished and she was dying to get to her lover. Only now she wasn’t so sure that he felt the same way about her.

Genevieve slowly gathered up her belongings as she pondered what to do—how to shake Cole out of whatever self-imposed funk he’d descended into. How to show him that losing control wasn’t always the terrible thing he thought it was.

Somewhere between her desk and the front door, the solution finally hit her.

* * *

Cole woke from a fitful sleep—one filled with nightmares and what-could-have-beens—to find his arms stretched above his head. With a groan, he started to roll over, only to find that he couldn’t move.

Struggling to consciousness, he tried to get his sleep-fogged brain to function. The last thing he remembered was shutting off his cell and house phone and climbing into his bed, where he’d stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours.

He’d been disgusted with himself, furious that he hadn’t made it to Genevieve before that psychopath had gotten his hands on her. He’d been so wrapped up in his sister’s death and his documentary that he hadn’t seen the threat to Genevieve until it was almost too late, and it made him feel like a failure—worse, as if the last seven years of his life hadn’t taught him a damn thing.

Again he tried to roll onto his stomach, and again he realized he couldn’t move. Alarm shot through the self-pity and disgust, had him raising his head off the bed and looking around wildly.

What he found could have come directly from his fantasies—or his nightmares.

Genevieve was standing at the foot of his bed, her golden curls tumbling sexily down her back. Her beautiful body was encased in a black lace thong and see-through corset, while black stockings ran the length of her long legs. In her hands was a bottle of God only knew what.

Not sure if she was real or just the remnant of a dream, he started to reach out for her, only to finally figure out that he was bound—hand and foot—to the bed.

“Hello, lover.” Genevieve’s voice was low and husky, and it worked its way through his body like an electric shock. “It’s about time you woke up.”

“What—” His voice was hoarse from sleep, and from the nerves just beginning to set in. “What are you doing? Let me go!”

She shook her head, and he trembled as her silken curls caressed her shoulders and breasts. “Oh, I don’t think so. At least not yet.”

He strained against the bonds, but they didn’t move—in fact, got tighter the more he struggled. Panic exploded in his chest. “Genevieve—”

She shook her head again and the smile she gave him was part siren, part queen. And all predator. “You might as well give it up. I was a Girl Scout, you know. And guess what I got my first merit badge in?”

“Knot tying?” His cock throbbed at the erotic promise of her voice, his early morning erection tightening to the point of pain.

“Bingo.”

“Let me up, Genevieve.” The words came out as a command. “Don’t do this.”

Reaching forward, she slid a hand languorously over his abdomen before following the light trail of hair down below his navel. He arched, involuntarily, as her fingers burrowed into the crisp hair at the base of his straining dick—caught between arousal and anger, hunger and hostility.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be issuing commands, do you?” She brushed against his erection and electricity shot straight through his dick. Along with a need so strong he had to grit his teeth to keep from begging.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked from between clenched teeth.

She licked her perfect, strawberry pink lips and grinned at him. “Why not?”

“Genevieve.” His voice was low, warning. “When I get out of here, I’m going to spank your ass for this.”

Smiling wickedly, she leaned over and licked him from navel to collarbone. “Well, that’s not much incentive for me to let you go, is it?” she murmured. “Maybe I’ll just keep you here, turn you into my own personal plaything.”

As she threw his own words back at him, Cole felt his body ratchet up another notch, desire thundering through him until it was all he could do to think. All he could do to breathe without strangling.

“Baby, please,” he gasped out as he trembled—fear and fury mixing with a lust so strong he didn’t think he could survive it.

Genevieve’s lips pursed in mock surprise. “Are you begging already? But I’ve barely gotten started.”

He let out a low, warning growl, but she only laughed. Then sunk her teeth into his right pec hard enough to have him shouting. Her tongue darted out to soothe the small hurt before circling first one nipple and then the other.

“Fuck!” he ground out, his body spinning rapidly out of his control. He felt his cock jerk, felt himself leak, and he couldn’t believe she’d gotten him so hard, so fast. For a minute he was afraid he was going to embarrass himself and he began to strain against the bonds in earnest.

“Stop fighting, Cole.” Genevieve laid a soothing hand against his cheek. “It’ll make this so much easier.”

“Make what easier?”
Was that his voice?
he wondered. It sounded more animal than human.

“The loss of control. I know how much you
love
being in charge, but tonight it’s my turn.”

Cole swore, long and viciously, but Genevieve only laughed. “That’ll cost you,” she murmured as she tipped the bottle in her hands over. A honey-scented liquid squirted out and she rubbed it slowly between her palms.

He watched, mesmerized, as her pink tongue darted out and swiped a taste. And when she murmured, “Mmm, delicious,” his mouth actually watered.

What he wouldn’t give to be able to get free of these damn ties. He’d swoop her into his lap, paddle her gorgeous ass and then spend the rest of the night showing her exactly who was boss in this—

“Fuck!” It was both a curse and a prayer as Genevieve began rubbing the oil onto his cock in slow, thorough strokes that had his eyes crossing and his back arching convulsively.

“Stop!” he demanded, but it sounded more like a plea. “Don’t—” His voice broke and he sucked in huge gulps of air, trying to get enough oxygen to steady his breathing. But Genevieve was only getting warmed up, and as her hands glided down to his testicles, began rubbing the oil into the delicate flesh, he nearly whimpered.

The touch of her hands was amazing, the feel of the oil even more so as it warmed on contact with his flesh. Heat sizzled along his most sensitive nerve endings, nearly burning him alive.

His balls tightened. His cock throbbed. The urge to come was nearly overwhelming, but he fought it back. Genevieve might have the upper hand—for now—but there was no way he was going to give in that easy. No way in hell.

Gritting his teeth, he thought of baseball stats and camera angles and lighting choices—any- and everything to keep from losing it too early.

Genevieve’s laugh was low and sultry—as if she knew exactly what he was doing. And when she crawled on top of him, teasing his mouth with her nipple, he nearly said
To hell with it.
Control wasn’t that important.

Nothing was as important as getting inside Genevieve and fucking her until neither one of them could walk.

But old habits died hard, and as he fastened his lips around her nipple, he reveled in her moan. Her hands crept around the back of his head to help support his neck as he sucked and licked the ruby red areola, teasing and tormenting her nipple until it was harder than he’d ever felt it.

Her hips started to move against his and he nearly shouted in triumph. He could do this, he could hold on, could stay in control, even tied down for Genevieve’s pleasure. He could—

Suddenly, her nipple disappeared from his mouth and he groaned in disappointment. Then nearly choked as her warm, soft, wet mouth fastened around his strained-to-the-breaking-point cock.

“Genevieve, no!” he shouted hoarsely, his hips bucking wildly against her lips.

She pulled away and smiled at him, all temptress now. “Cole, yes!” She mimicked his words, but her voice was full of laughter.

“I can’t hold on. I can’t—”

“That’s the point, baby,” she whispered, right before she took him back in her mouth. “You can let go. You
need
to let go.”

“I can’t.” The sweet suction of her mouth combined with the uncontrollable heat of the oil, and he shouted in agonized pleasure.

He strained against the silk ties, his body arching and shuddering as she sucked his cock slowly down her throat. She lingered at the base, swirling her tongue up and around him until it was all he could do to remember his own name.

There was a roaring in his ears, a pounding in his blood that warned him he was on the brink of losing complete control. Biting the inside of his cheek, clenching his fists, he tightened every muscle in his body and fought to hold on.

“Fuck, Genevieve,” he groaned in between shudders. “Have mercy.”

She only laughed again, sliding him up and down her throat in a rhythm that made his eyes cross and his cock beg for release. When he was at the edge of a yawning precipice, and every ounce of energy he had had been used up in the effort not to come, she pulled back with a long, lingering swipe of her tongue. Then licked him like he was a Popsicle.

“Don’t tease, baby.” It was a gasp, sweat pouring off him as his body shuddered beneath her. “Let me fuck you. Let me come inside—”

“Let
you
fuck
me
?” Her voice was a low, warm murmur. “You still don’t get it, do you,
baby
? It’s my turn to fuck you.”

She slipped lower, her tongue stroking over his balls and behind them, finding a spot that made control a thing of his past and had his blood pressure shooting through the roof.

“Then do it!” His voice was harsh, guttural, his hips unyielding as he slammed them against her. The satin ties grew tighter, dug into his wrists and he tried to relax, to calm down. But he was beyond calm, beyond gentleness, beyond thinking for the first time in his life. Everything he had and everything he was focused on the warm, wonderful woman above him.

“I don’t take orders.” She pulled away, climbed off the bed. And left him on the brink of madness.

“Where are you going?” he demanded as the liquid on his cock caught fire, began
to burn in an incredibly pleasurable way.

She shrugged. “I’m thirsty. I thought I’d head down to the kitchen and get something to drink.”

“Genevieve!” It was a roar, the sound of a wild animal pushed past all endurance. His cock throbbed; his balls ached. His entire body was on fire, burning for her. Needing her.

A taunting laugh was her only response as she strolled slowly from the room.

Stressed-out, fucked-up, he lay there for what seemed like forever trying to get his raging erection under control. But the oil she’d rubbed into his dick and balls was making it impossible. Every breath he took had him throbbing more, every second that passed made his cock grow more and more sensitive, until just the brush of air against it felt like a caress.

“Genevieve,” he called again, but this time there was a pleading note he couldn’t keep out of his voice. “Come back, baby. Please. Come back.”

She appeared seconds later, a glass of ice water in her hand. “Did you miss me, baby?” she asked as she approached the bed.

“Fuuuuck.” It was a groan, a plea, and she seemed to recognize it as such.