Tracked by Trouble (Bad Boys Need Love, Too #3) (19 page)

Zed’s body pinged with so many emotions, he couldn’t keep track of them. “Are you for real?” he asked.

“As real as it gets. And I want to be with you. I want to support you in getting help. I want to face King Kong and throw that fucker off the Empire State building. What do you say?”

“A few minutes ago, all I wanted to do was drink myself stupid. Your response to this shit is better than I could ever have imagined.”

Beck nodded with what looked like matter of fact certainty. “You gotta trust me, baby. With you, anything is possible. I feel it in my bones. I feel it like I’ve never felt it before. That’s why I could never commit before. I was waiting for
you
.”

“Hot damn.” A slow seductive smile crept across Zed’s face. “Then I say, I want to kiss you and then make love to you, hard, deep and long until you can’t see straight. And that’s for merely for starters.”

The moment called for action. “Come here, honey,” Zed said, pulling Beck to her feet. “It’s get down to business time.”

A shiver pulsed through Beck’s core. “Is it, now?”

“Oh, yes. To keep my extremely blue balls at bay, I’ve been scheming and dreaming about things I’d like to do to you. Collecting things. Wondering about this sensation or that. I’ve been a busy man.” He practically dragged her through the house and into the bedroom. “Sit.” He pointed at the bed.

She settled at the edge.

“Stay,” he said, in a low, decisive voice.

“I’m staying. Right here. Not going anywhere,” she said with a laugh. She glanced around at the fawn-brown walls, lined with sconces. Waning light streamed in the windows, causing streaks of sunlight to paint the light, dappled brown quilted bedspread in bold, brilliant strokes. She ran her hands along the soft, textured fabric as she waited with curious anticipation.

Zed disappeared into the hall. A couple minutes later, he returned, setting a box outside the door. After rummaging through, he sauntered in the room, incredibly sexy blue eyes glinting mischievously, a black and white satin blindfold dangling from his index finger. “Feeling adventurous?”

The grin on his face seemed to be wired to her insides, like together, they were part of a circuit of electricity. “Why, yes, I do believe I am.” She smiled, feeling hot sparks of voltaic sensation between her legs.

“Trust me?”

“After your confession, with my soul,” she said in a breathy voice.

“Excellent answer, Ms. Tosetti.” He crawled behind her on the king-sized bed, kneeling on the springy Tempurpedic mattress. He positioned the blindfold on her eyes and gently tied it in the back. “Comfortable?”

“Yes.” The cool, silky satin began to instantly warm.

“Can’t see a thing?”

“Not a thing.”

He placed his muscular legs on either side of her hips, pulling her backside onto his erection.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Is that for me?” Her hands ran along the tops of his denim-covered thighs.

“Shhh.” His hands came around to caress her breasts through her cotton T-shirt.

She melted into his arms, his touch, his strong chest, scooting back with him.

When he got her where he wanted, he slid his warm hands under her shirt and hissed. “Good lord, Beck. You drive me crazy, you wicked temptress, you. I’ve been wanting to let go with you from the day we met. Today, I’m going to do just that.” He gently pushed her long hair free from her back, guiding it over the shoulder. As he caressed her breasts, his head lowered to her neck where he suckled and nibbled up and down, from shoulder to ear.

She shuddered with delight.

He drew the shirt up her torso, over her head and away from her, tracing her body, her arms, with his heated, slightly calloused palms. Still behind her, he rolled each nipple between his fingers, twirling them into aching buds.

Her head fell back into his shoulder, surrendering to sensation.

He carefully slid free, guiding her into a prone position.

She heard the side stand drawer open, and felt the cool, cushy leather of expensive wireless headphones being placed on her head.

He tipped one of the headphones free from her left ear and whispered, “Stay. I’ll be back in a few.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said in a husky voice.

He returned a second or two later, lifted the earpiece again and said, “If you want me to stop at
any time,
say so. I’ll stop on a dime and soothe you.”

A slight frown crossed her face. “I’m not into pain,” she said.

“Me neither,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear before the comfy earpiece settled back into place. “That’s not what I have in mind.”

She smiled and nodded.

Zed disappeared and a few seconds later,
Lost Without You
entered her ears.

Beck lay alert and intoxicated on light deprived sound for several minutes, her fingers wandering over her breasts. Robin Thicke finished his song and
Play,
by Goapele, began sliding into her ears. When that song ended,
Bloodstream,
by Stateless began.

She began to wonder if Zed would ever return when she felt the bed give way. An ice-cold tongue swirled around her nipple, making her gasp, while the smell of minty soap and musky skin tickled her nose.
Mmm, he showered.
A very naked male perched on the bed next to her, as evidenced by the feel of his knees pressed into her side and the heat radiating off his chest. Her eager fingers confirmed, exploring whatever she could get her hands on.

He gently removed them and placed them firmly on her tummy, holding them in place with one hand, all the while suckling her needy breast.

“Hey!” she protested. “Not fair.”

The weight of his hand pressed down on her, as if urging her to stay. He needn’t worry. She had no intention of disappearing.

The tongue and touch disappeared as Luther Vandross starting crooning
Creepin’.
Thank heavens for a dad who liked his old school music. Some feathery pelt glided across her bare torso. She shivered. The soft fur made its way over her shoulder and down her arm. A moan snaked from her throat.

Fur clad fingers encircled her wrist, lifting her arm in the air. Holding her wrist, he stroked the tender skin along the inside of her arm. She chuckled.
Is he wearing furry gloves? That’s an image I’d like to see.
Some sort of ticklish restraints were woven in and around her fingers and fastened at her wrist. Zed lifted her arm high, kissing her with gentle regard. He maneuvered a long band of fur and leather around and around, until the entire piece spiraled the length of her arm toward her armpit. He tugged her hand gently overhead and restrained it to…the bed? The side stand?

His broad hand slid beneath her back…an array of straps finessed underneath.  He guided and positioned them just so, until her torso was crisscrossed by the slender furry bands, her breasts surrounded, straining between the confining pieces. Another strip wound around her other arm, ending with more plush restraints binding her hand and wrist. He affixed this one to the other side of the bed. He kissed and licked her taut body, taking his sweet time while her ears were serenaded by Zed’s sultry, sexy mix of music. The sensory stimulation made her feel hallucinatory.

An ice cube held between the teeth of an extremely warm mouth landed on her breast. She gasped in surprise. He moved it in slow circles around her areola, icy droplets rolling down her side while his fur-covered hand stroked the other breast. He sucked her nipple and the ice into his mouth with hungry intensity, still petting the other breast with infinite tenderness. She writhed against the sensation of opposites—aching, painful need from the cold nipple in his mouth on the one side; singular yearning from the warm downy strokes on the other side.

He stopped the sucking and stroking and withdrew.

As
La Femme d’Argent
by Air filled her head, she wondered where he’d gone.

He stretched the length of her, pressing that damn, out of reach erection against her shorts.

“Take my pants off, you devil,” she said, or thought she said—the music overpowered everything.

He must have heard her, because soon her front zipper slowly unzipped and seductive skin met either side of her waist. Her shorts and panties were shimmied from her legs, along with sweeping comfort issued by one fine pair of artistic, sensitive, male hands.

Beck thought she’d come from the contact.

Again, the long, lean length of Zed stretched by her side. His hard cock rocked into her hip.

She let out a strangled moan. She could feel the hard heat of him, pressing against her thigh, feel the silky glide of her skin being lubricated by his pre-cum juices as he undulated against her but she couldn’t touch him, couldn’t take him in her mouth, nothing. Her skin literally felt on fire, every nerve ending wired to him, aching to be stimulated, aroused, tortured by touch.

Usher began to croon
Good Kisser,
and she groaned and mumbled, “How would you know how I kiss that thing? You won’t let me touch it.” She swore she heard him laugh.
Can he hear the music, too? Are his actions in concert?

His fingers circled her belly, then moved lower, softly petting the coarse red hair between her legs. When he curled his fingers over her mons, she spread apart her legs and began to breathe like a dog in heat. One finger slowly entered her, moving in tiny, slippery circles along the walls of her want. Another finger joined the first and they moved in and out, begging her to surrender, tormenting her arousal. Her climax could be had with a single stroke along her clit. But no, the torturous man removed his sensuous fingers from her and he, and his blasted hand, rolled away from her.

She felt her flesh practically suck away from her bones in the draft of his absence. She writhed and whimpered for him.

A minute later the heat of this body molded against her once more. He brought the same finger, infused with her musky taste, combined with a sweet, viscous dollop of honey, to her lips. She sucked and twirled her tongue around his finger, drawing the ambrosial, piquant taste into her throat. Surrounded by the teasing touch of him, from his knees pressed against her sides, his fingers both in her mouth and stroking her jaw and face, to the blessed, slippery head of his cock grazing her belly like a taunt, her soul soared with his exquisite music and loving, seductive care.

He brought his succulent lips to hers. The man knew how to kiss. His tongue entered her like an infusion of an intoxicating substance she’d never be able to live without. His lips were softer than the petal of a rose. The kiss seemed to consume his attention, and hers, as he gave himself to her through his mouth, his tongue, his now-honeyed lips. His hands cupped her head, fingers massaging and caressing her scalp. His soul patch added a soft scrape, scrape, scrape against her chin. The fur binding her arms and torso, held her taut in luxurious tension. Her tightly drawn nipples brushed his chest causing her breasts to ache with anguished longing.

She experienced herself being drowned in sweet, sultry sin, like dying a thousand damnable deaths in the blink of an eye and wanting to die again. The kissing consumed her, driving her to the point of madness. She wanted him to draw her inside his soul, to be extinguished by his desire. She felt as if the universe of Zed Farrell lay in his mouth, and she, a star throbbing in his celestial cosmos, being lovingly, exquisitely devoured. She felt to be his entire existence, being worshipped by a kiss worthy of legends.

After several long, long moments of pleasure, he slowly withdrew his mouth, rolling away from her.

The coldness of his absence gave her goose-pebbled flesh and a cauldron of desire, as if he, the skilled magician, wound a spell around her from the outside in, binding their souls through mesmerizing sensory witchcraft.

A pitch perfect soprano female voice pierced her mind, singing Georges Bizet’s opera Carmen. She knew the song thanks to her mother playing it when Beck was a mere youth. Twin sensations of delicate fibers traced the sides of her neck. She tried to discern the source of sensation.
Feathers? Camel hair paintbrushes?
Whatever it was, it yielded pure heaven.

The
gossamer
hairs stroked her shoulders, painted her collarbones, lingered in the hollow of her neck. They moved around her breasts, flicking the rosy nubs. They outlined her ribs, sweeping down to her belly. Completely immersed in sensory rapture, Beck yielded to everything.

Large hands urged her legs wide. The fibers stroked her folds, drawing desperate moans from her throat as they slid along her clit like a diaphanous tease. She hovered like a hummingbird at the edge of orgasm, having never experienced such sweetly seductive torture.

Typically needing constant stimulation to climax, this delicate coaxing seemed to whisper the orgasm out of her. Animal-like moans and cries burst from her throat as the climax rocked through her. “Zed,” she cried. “Oh, God!” She shuddered with the full body, mind blowing surrender as it rippled through her body.

Zed once again conformed along her side, gently stroking and soothing her back from the rapturous release. She drifted to the sounds of opera, falling toward the edge of sleep.

As if he knew her body rhythms and recovery, his fingers began playing at her opening. He placed himself between her legs and she instantly returned from near-slumber.

A booming bass beat and snare filled her head. The weight of Zed settled on top of her as Trent Rezner began to sing
Closer,
in Nine Inch Nails raunchy fashion. “Sweet baby Jesus,” she uttered, completely bewitched. Her legs spread wide.
This is it,
she thought.
This is where I finally get to be filled to the core with Zed Farrell.

He rolled slightly to the side and the drizzle of cold lube trickled between her legs—as if she needed any. She felt drenched with desire. Her lips parted and she began to pant like some sex-crazed animal in estrus. Her head rolled side to side.