Yield (8 page)

Honesty is the best policy. Most of the time. I counted out the seconds and managed to convince myself.

“First.” I swallowed, my throat moving against his fingers. He was still stroking me. Way to confuse me. I suppose that might’ve been his plan. “I liked it.”

“I figured that, Wren.” His smile birthed a happy glow in my heart.

“I’ve never thought it would appeal to me. My father gave me an allergy to controlling men.” I searched his face but saw nothing bad. No arrogant triumph this morning, though that had its place. Just...a man thinking?

“That answer and that you’re still here, in my bed, I figure gives me rights.” His smile twitched, then he threw back the sheet that had half-covered me.

“What?” I frowned and tried to lunge for the sheet only to have him gather both my hands, straddle me, and pin my hands to the pillow above my head. My natural orneriness reared its head. “Presumptuous of you. We need to talk.”

I twisted my wrists to get free. Unsuccessfully, of course.

Voila, I saw my true motivation in a flash. I wanted to see what he would do if I provoked him. Teasing this man would surely have consequences.

He sat on me harder, worming his leg between mine, forcing them apart. “We will. Like I said though, since you’re still here, I’m taking my owed-to-me morning sacrifice. You.”

His pause was devilish and electric. We both knew he was checking to see what I’d do. Instant telepathy, for once. Fuck. This was hot. If I played it too nasty, he’d stop. I could feel that, though I wanted him to just go for it, no matter what. Even if I tried to claw his eyes out.

What was wrong with me?

Maybe next time. After that talk.

I lay there panting, staring up at him, and holding back the fight. At last I whispered the words I had to. “Don’t let go.”

“Not happening.” Such intensity was there, in his eyes. “Lift your legs until your knees are up near your ears.” When I hesitated, deliberately, only slightly moving them, he slapped my butt. I swear I could feel every scorching finger imprint. “Now!”

Oh fuck.

I raised my legs and he rearranged his grip on me, one arm at a time going to the outside of my legs then regaining that wrist hold.

I ended up pinned like a butterfly to a display case but doubled up, my feet tapping the headboard with his shoulders keeping me there. My pussy was out where he could penetrate me as he wished.

So vulnerable to whatever he wanted.

Condom! He was about to...

Damn.

I didn’t want to speak again. That would ruin this. He let go of my wrist with one hand.

But I had to. Already, I felt the wetness from his cock bluntly poking into the crease where my leg met my ass. “Wait!” You need to... Those last words only echoed in my mind. His free hand had come out from under his pillow.

Without taking his gaze off me and my wide-open pose for more than a fraction of a second, he put a condom packet to his mouth and tore it open, then rolled the condom down his cock, one-handed.

The man planned ahead. Oh my.

That he’d been so sure I’d acquiesce was both disturbing and thrilling. He plunged into me, and my eyes rolled up as I felt the brutish slide of his cock, shoving in, invading me without mercy. It felt bigger than before. All the way...in. I grunted as he sheathed himself fully and banged into the flesh of my ass.

“Don’t expect to come.” That was almost a growl. But I’d shut my eyes and wasn’t opening them just to see if he’d morphed into a beast. “I’m going to fuck the hell out of you.”

He ground himself into my pussy, his thighs shoving into the undersides of mine. He was as deep as any man could get into me. My groan was heartfelt. I didn’t get to come? I didn’t care. Fuck me until there is no tomorrow.

So I lay there with my head being shunted into the pillows, half buried, my feet thumping on the wall or waving in midair, while he took his pleasure. The room itself shook for all I knew.

I couldn’t escape and that was exactly how I wanted it.

With Glass heavy breathing and grunting into the pillow that’d fallen on my head while he fucked me hard, I blissed out.

When he came, he shouted a little. Made me grin, despite the throb and ache inside. I could feel his cum in there, condom or not. That made me feel like I was His.

So odd. I’d never wanted to be anyone’s before. Never.

He released my wrists and legs but stayed on top of me and moved away the pillow.

“Now we can talk?” I whispered in his ear. I bit it then nuzzled his neck. I couldn’t get enough of how he tasted and smelled.

He snorted but turned his head to look. “Soon. Soon as I’m done with you.”

“Soon?”

“Yes.”

There was more, I found: Being soaped up in the shower while he kissed me and manhandled me. Being made to come with his mouth on me while I clung to his shoulders, my legs trembling, as I tried not to fall over in the water. Being told to kneel and kiss his cock then to open my mouth while he fucked it. What a morning. No talking at all had been done and it seemed as if a world of time passed when next I checked a clock. I figured we were doing some important dialogue already.

Breakfast was late and involved toast and eggs. He cooked.

“My university student cooking skills aren’t up to your standards?”

He waggled the spatula at me, where I sat wrapped in a bathrobe on the kitchen counter. “You said you burned eggs.”

“I did. I do.” I smiled, struck by the silliness of his pose. Big, nasty man with spatula. At least he had on a shirt and shorts. I could imagine the damage if the oil from the pan spat at him while he was stark naked like he had been half an hour ago, in front of me, with his cock out...shoving it in my mouth. Damn. I squirmed subtly, squeezing my thighs together. Forced BJs turned me on? “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Letting me cook for you?”

I guess this was our talk. I blinked then forged onward. “Letting you dominate me in bed.”

Again, there was that thoughtful look I’d caught on him sometimes. Enough times to reassure me he wasn’t some Neanderthal. I’d known the man had to have brains to run whatever business he had here. SAS officers were selected from thousands of candidates. It was nice to see continued evidence, though.

“I have friends into this. Domination. Submission. Slaves even, some of the women call themselves.”

Slaves? I closed my mouth. “Uh-huh.”

He levered the eggs from the pan and placed them on the plates with the fried tomatoes and toast. There wasn’t a lot of variety in the fridge but neither of us had wanted to go out looking for cafés. Discussing murders and perhaps human trafficking, maybe other illegal acts, none of these were things to be chatted about over coffee. Neither was our relationship.

I slipped off the counter and followed Glass to the table.

The eggs were overcooked but I’d done enough teasing, and I’d cooked worse eggs.

“An A for effort. And the knives and forks are pretty.” I turned them over, admiring the silver fruit motif on the handles. Then I began eating.

I’d face what he said head on. “You said slaves? That’s so odd.”

“Not for you?”

“Uhh.” Seriously? “On principle, no.”

“Weirdly, I can see love in the relationship I know of.” He shook his head. “And I’m told it all depends on the couple.”

Which implied the slave got a say in how things were organized. Inside, I shuddered. I didn’t want to give him ideas or explore something so repulsive. Again, me, gone, if he so much as mentioned he liked this.

“But, whatever they do, it’s not my thing.” He sat back, considering me. “I like you Wren because you strike me as a woman who loves her independence.” Now he leaned in and I started, caught with my fork halfway to my mouth. “And yet you like me taking over.”

“I...” Without much thought on my part, my fork ended up placed on my plate, with the precision of an aircraft landing. “Okay. You must have noticed this is difficult for me to say out loud. And fuck you for laughing.” I covered my eyes. “I do, yes.”

He engulfed my other hand in his, where it lay on the table, pressing down reassuringly. “If I’m looking like I’m amused, it’s because I’m happy. That’s all. I’d never laugh at you.”

“No?” I peeked at him.

“Not unless you trip on a banana peel or something.” Glass smiled. “Look, it’s not shameful. It’s us. Me. You. That’s it.”

“I’m supposed to be a strong independent feminist who kicks guys in the balls if they try this shit. Jeez. I took a wrong turn somewhere.”

“No.” He squeezed my fingers. “Besides, I surprised me too. I had other ideas. They didn’t work out.”

What was that supposed to mean?

For a while he said nothing and I could see he’d gone away in his head.

“I was wrong. Very. Never try to be someone else.”

His vague revelation sobered me up. I didn’t know what he referred to, and he didn’t seem about to tell me. I moved my fingers out from under his.

What did I know about him? The real him? My natural cautiousness, that’d been reinforced by years of being taught what was safe, sidled back in and tapped me on the arm. I’d fucked up my life once. Twice might qualify me for a Darwin Award. I needed to go slower.

I assessed him again. Chances were he wasn’t who my hormones were trying to make him out to be.

“Glass. Our biggest problem is that I need you to find my father’s killer. I don’t know how this...us will affect that.”

“You’re saying you’d drop the ‘us’ in this deal if it meant a tidier world?”

I’d put this out front and center. Did I really want that?

“I’d rather both, Wren. I think you would too.”

Huh.
He was right. I would like to have both but I’d be a fool to let that be the basis of a business decision. I might’ve failed my father’s standards of negotiation, but I was still good.

“Hugh would be horrified.” This was a security nightmare. I stared at my hand and his, now inches apart. But me? Glass had presented me with a whole new adventure. “Maybe we need distance?”

“Should Hugh make your personal decisions?” His hand sliding away, he sank back in his chair. Though his expression was less open, he wasn’t needling me, much.

If anything, being a couple would tie Glass closer to me, the same as it did me to him. That was cold logic.

Could it backfire? I guessed so. But surely no worse than it might if we stayed distant? If anything, the more I came to know Glass, the more honorable he seemed to become. Perception only? Or was I affecting him?

Now that would be odd.

A true security nightmare would be him getting angry at my change of mind. No one knew where I was. I looked him over. I could do little if he decided to hurt me. This was, in a way, a test of character.

Or a test of how much he wanted my money.

Then again, he could get far more by ransoming me.

Nightmare.

“One day, that’s all. We’ve been in bed one day. I don’t even know your name. Is Glass even anything like it? Or Richard?”

“Wren, here’s a truth.” He nodded. “If any other woman had baulked like you are, I would have walked away. I don’t need complications. Not normally.”

“So my money is making you stay?”

“Stop trying to anger me.”

I found myself blushing.

“You are making me stay. But I have men who rely on me to keep their names out of the news and off the radar of anyone who might want to harm them. Much of what we do relies on being low in visibility.”

“That still means you won’t tell me your name. I don’t think...” I shut my eyes for a second, horrified at what I had to say. The loss was eating a hole in my stomach and I hadn’t even said it yet. “We can’t have a relationship, if I don’t know who you are.”

The moment became some horrible, twisted, silent thing. I could feel something good and wonderful slipping from me. I wasn’t sure what I was doing. If I didn’t trust him, telling him I didn’t was stupid. Wasn’t it? I twined my hands together and my fingers went a funny mixture of white and pink from the pressure. Not looking at Glass seemed wise.

Guess I didn’t deserve this. Happiness. Or a chance at it. Jesus, it was one night, but I was stupid thinking I could make myself think he meant nothing to me.

I sighed. Messed up.

One night in bed with him? He does mean nothing. It’s just my fantasies getting in the way.

“I am Richard Oakham.” I jumped. The man had sneaked up behind me. “Thirty-nine years old. Born in Birmingham.” His hands landed heavily on my shoulders. “My nickname is Glass and it began as Glass Dick. I got that because a girlfriend sent me a glass dildo and half the bloody regiment saw it when it fell out of the packaging.

“If...” He bent low, leaning his chin on my shoulder. “If you try to back out of this us, so help me god, I will spank you. Whether we are in a relationship or not. I’m trusting you Wren. Just not your Hugh. I can see you want to give this a go. Be brave. Do it. We can always tell each other to fuck off if it doesn’t work out.”

Tears dribbled down my cheeks. I resisted wiping them away for a few seconds then I did, with my knuckle.

“What have you done to me? I never cry.”

“Well. I think you should do it more. Since I like seeing it. It shows you care, Wren. I was wondering if you were a robot, for a minute. After all that happened, this morning and last night, and then you switch and pretend it was nothing?” He dragged a chair closer, and sat beside me, then pulled me onto his lap.

I considered protesting, for all of half a second.

“I’m sorry.” My muffled words were said half into his shirt. “I don’t want to be a robot. It’s just...” I struggled to express something that went against the raison d’être of most of my life. “You just seem too perfect to be true.”

“What?” His chin rasped in my hair as he shook his head. “Interesting that you regard what I did as perfect.”

Oops. My eccentricity was showing.

“I’m not perfect. Nothing like it.”

He was, though. Or he seemed to be. Fuck it. Women were supposed to articulate better than men, but this confounded me. I liked being here, in his lap, but trusting him was so difficult. I merely grunted, as if agreeing.