A French Whipping (17 page)

18

BLAKE READ AN
entire chapter about formatting in Excel, and a book she’d found in Nick’s library about a world in the future where the earth was covered in water and only one family had a boat. Not her cup of tea, but she’d been trying to distract herself.

Nick had texted her what was happening at her apartment and she’d spent nearly an hour watching the news coverage before she’d turned off the TV. There hadn’t been a bomb, that much was clear, but Nick hadn’t been able to tell her what they did find.

In response, she’d finished off the bottle of white wine they’d opened yesterday and looked through his naughty book of tied-up women for a while before deciding that she may as well get some homework done. It was either that or go stir-crazy waiting for someone to tell her what was going on.

When her phone finally did ring, she jumped and picked it up from the end table. It was a text from Nick.

Back in twenty minutes. Want dinner?

Blake wanted to get out of the apartment, but it didn’t sound like that was going to be likely.
Fish and hush puppies,
she texted back, knowing that seafood wasn’t exactly his favorite. Downright disloyal to his hometown, if you asked her.

OK
, he replied.

Sitting up, Blake set the computer on the coffee table and stood, stretching again before picking up the sex book she’d found in Nick’s library. She’d marked one page with the Post-it he’d used to write her password on and intended to talk to him about the book later. Maybe this evening.

Of course, depending on what he’d found in her apartment, he may not be in the mood to fuck at all, much less engage in kinky rope sex. What had they found? Had Keenan broken in? Hurt someone? She couldn’t imagine that he’d taken anything. She didn’t have anything of value. Her contacts and addresses were on her phone, and she had her purse.

The wine had given her a pleasant buzz—she shouldn’t have finished the bottle, she supposed, but she still felt vaguely jittery as she opened the door to the guest room and put the book away in one of her dresser drawers next to the clothes she’d put away earlier.

After a quick freshening of her makeup, she changed into a turquoise-blue maxi dress that buttoned down the front and matched her eyes, and a linen cardigan. She left her hair down around her shoulders and lightly sprayed on some perfume. She didn’t bother with shoes.

Underneath the dress, she’d gone into considerably more effort, donning a white bondage-style corset and high-cut white satin panties with a strategic split down the center. She couldn’t say she was comfortable, but she certainly felt ready for anything. Her pussy was already swollen and ready for him, just at the thought of how he would expose her, and how those clever fingers would tease and play with her until she came.

“I’m turning into a sex addict,” she murmured, shaking her head. As if she didn’t have enough problems.

As the limo pulled out from beneath the parking garage, Nick waved goodbye to Shane and walked toward the penthouse elevator, where an armed guard waited. Nodding to the guard, he punched in his code to open the elevator doors. He’d called the company’s personal security service even before he’d been able to get some information about what they’d found in Blake’s apartment. Carrying the bags of takeout and a small suitcase with Blake’s things, he tried to relax as he rode up the elevator.

Blake was waiting for him wearing a long dress with buttons up the center and a sweater, her arms crossed under her chest. She’d left her hair down, tumbling around her shoulders and golden in the light from the lamps.

“Hey.” She smiled at him.

“Hey,” he replied and tried to smile back, but it felt strange on his face.

She let her arms fall to her sides and walked over to him. “Wow. Guess that little trip wasn’t as uneventful as expected.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her, appreciating the feel of her lips against his cheek. “Not quite,” he agreed and surrendered the food to the gentle tug of her hand.

“Well, come on, let’s eat in the kitchen and you can tell me what you found.”

“I’ll be right there. I’ll put your things in your room.”

Nodding, she opened the bags and looked inside as she walked into the kitchen. Nick watched her walk away before pulling out the folder he’d concealed in the front pocket of the small carry-on. He set it on the coffee table and took the bag to her room, noticing that she had put away her new clothes as well. She seemed to be trying hard not to disturb anything too much, though he did wonder what she had done while she was here by herself. He’d never spent much time in the guest bedroom before, but now, with the smell of her perfume in the air and her clothes hanging it the closet, he was beginning to think of it as Blake’s room, especially when he saw her motorcycle boots on one of the shelves.

By the time he returned to the dining room, she’d transferred the food onto plates and lit several candles in the center of the table. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re thinking we have something to celebrate?”

She shrugged. “Well, we’re alive, we’re having fantastic sex, and you’re rich. What’s not to celebrate?”

Nick sat down. “Can’t argue with that,” he agreed wryly. He picked the folder up from the table next to him.

She eyed it like he’d dropped a dead lizard on the table. “You can tell me what you found in my apartment
after
we eat.”

Nick was all too happy to forget the contents of the folder for the moment—he’d like to forget it forever and haul her out to his yacht for an extended trip to a Caribbean island.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Nick had ordered a steak salad with blue cheese, but he’d gotten her the requested fish and hush puppies.

“Oh, my gawd,” she said around a huge bite of hush puppy, “these are amazing. You have to try one.” She held one out to him; he noticed she’d painted her nails Easter-egg blue.

He held up a hand. “That’s okay.”

“It’s not natural, you know,” she informed him. “Everyone likes hush puppies.”

“People like watching
Survivor
as well.”

Blake shrugged. “More for me.”

Silence fell again and Nick realized that he was scowling at his salad. “Sorry.” He shook himself. “Maybe I should just show you and get it over with. I’m not going to be able to think about anything else.”

He reached for the folder, but she stopped him. “Wait. Before you do, I want you to have something else to think about.”

There was a note in her voice, a slightly husky intonation to her already low tones. He felt the hair on his arms stand on end. “All right.”

She stood and removed her sweater and then began unbuttoning the dress, revealing a corset made with various straps, all buckled in place with silver buckles, and underwear that strapped around her as well, with a small silver buckle in the front.

Gathering the dress and sweater into a ball, she tossed them in the direction of the living room and returned to her seat. Without hesitation, she began eating again, giving him an inquiring look when he just stared. Damn. His mood had improved; it was difficult to worry when his dick was throbbing.

“All right.” He shook his head and picked up the folder. “These are copies of photographs that were found in your bedroom, laid out for you to find.”

When she took the folder, her hand trembled, just a little, and he knew she wasn’t as unaffected as she seemed to want to pretend. She set the folder to the left of her plate, leaving a grease stain from her fingers, and flipped it open.

She paused with a piece of fish halfway to her mouth. “This is from the hospital,” she said.

“I know.”

It was a picture of Blake sitting in his car, smiling at him while he scowled. He remembered that moment, remembered her telling him that she wanted him to have sex with her.

She dropped the piece of fish and flipped to the next one, which was from the bar where she worked. She was bending to give Roland a drink. A third photograph showed her sitting at a café with Rosa. There were others, but essentially they added up to the same thing: someone knew where she worked, where she lived, where she liked to go, and, what’s worse, seemed all too willing for her to know about it. Keenan was telling Blake and her friends that he was there, that he was watching, and he didn’t care if they knew.

“I called our private security. There’s a guard at the door downstairs and several more at the perimeter.”

She didn’t seem to be listening. She’d gotten to the last picture in the pile, the one of the two of them walking to the docks to go sailing. Her lips pressed together grimly. “Keenan, you are such an asshole.”

He didn’t mention the note that had been left, directed at him.
She’ll never be yours
had been written in lipstick on her vanity mirror.

“God.” She sighed and stood, picking up her plate and carrying it to the sink. The cheeks of her ass were visible beneath the straps. He wanted to run his tongue between the crease of her ass and thigh.

“I thought Keenan and I were done. I thought I was done with all of this bullshit, having people follow me, leave taunting pictures. He always did like to play. Sick bastard.” Her plate clattered in the sink. “It’s weird. It’s like it’s all happening again. You’re creating an online game. I’m trying to go back to school. You and I are . . .” She looked at him, but didn’t finished the thought. “It’s like he knew, you know, that we were just starting to get back where we were before.”

Nick winced. Keenan had known that he was fascinated by Blake even then. And really, how much better was Nick than all the others she’d been with? He’d followed her; he’d tracked her phone. The only difference he could see was that he was protecting her, not trying to control her every move, but he was all too aware that it was a fine line. Agitated, he didn’t know what he’d do if he saw her flirting or talking with some guy. Before, when she’d just been his friend, he would have gone for a run, a long run, and possibly found a woman for the evening, but now that she was here, in his house, in his bed?

“Damn, what’s that look for?” she asked. She’d turned back to him and put her hands on her hips, accentuating the curve of her waist and the abundant breasts that trembled above her bra.

He shook his head. “I hate that he did this to you. There doesn’t seem to be any reason to come after you if all he wants is the software.”

“I’m sure taunting me is just a bonus,” she said darkly. “If you think about it, he probably believes that he can use me to get the software, since his first attempt failed. He’s used me before. Besides, there’s always revenge for getting away from him.” Blake shivered. Keenan had waited an entire year to get revenge on a man he’d thought had disrespected him in the bar. He could be patient. Deadly. And without conscience.

Nick thought about it. It was possible. Back when he, Milton, and Roland had created their first software game, Blake had stolen it, but she’d regretted it, and she’d called the three of them, telling them what she’d done. They’d arrived at Keenan’s apartment in time to see him wrap a rope around her neck and start strangling her.

They’d distracted Keenan enough that she’d been able to hit him in the balls, but the asshole had escaped, fleeing the scene. They’d called the police and rushed Blake to the hospital because she was having trouble breathing, but they hadn’t been able to catch him. Later, they found that he’d sold the software as his own.

“I wonder if someone hired him to steal it, or if he wants it for some reason of his own.”

“Either way, he’s not getting it from me,” she said firmly. “I am not that stupid girl.”

Nick wasn’t convinced that Keenan intended Blake to steal anything—not that she could, there were security measures in place to keep even someone they trusted, like Blake, from accessing the software. No, Nick thought that Keenan had a different plan in mind, one that involved him.

He knows I’d do anything for her
.

“Enough,” she demanded, marching toward him in all her wrapped and buckled glory. “I don’t want to talk about Keenan, or think about Keenan—” She sat down in his lap and turned to look at him over her shoulder. “I want you. I thought about you all afternoon, about how you looked in that chair, how you touched me last night. How could I have spent so many years as your friend and not known I could feel like this?”