Her Only Desire (21 page)

“I liked giving it to her that way.” He swallowed, his gaze flicked to her face and then focused on the far wall. “Once she was gone, I drifted into the BDSM scene. Tried the clubs. Every one of my guys, by their own preference, is in that lifestyle too. But we have rules we abide by. We never infringe on another’s woman. Never play where we’re not invited.”

His hand left her bottom. Fingers combed through her hair then tugged to center her face over his.

Escaping his steady gaze was impossible. His face was more open than she’d ever seen it. Somehow younger. Maybe it was opening to her, letting her see the turmoil inside him.

She touched his cheek, encouraging him to continue.

He turned his head and gave her palm a kiss, then cupped her hand against his cheek. “The dinner party was a revelation, Tilly. If you’d shied even the littlest bit, I wouldn’t have taken it so far. But you blossomed. Everyone could see you’re meant for me. For this.”

A thrill ran through her at his praise. Tilly met his somber gaze. “I don’t want to be a plaything, Boone. A toy you set aside when you get bored.”

He gave a short, sharp shake of his head. “Won’t ever happen,” he said, his voice gruff.

“But what if I don’t like everything you do?”

His mouth curved slightly. “We’ll find things that give us both pleasure, and that’s the point. Not everyone shares the same tastes. But just because we’re different doesn’t mean I’ll go looking for someone else who’ll give me that one thing you won’t. You’ll give me everything I
need
. I promise I’ll be more than satisfied.”

She warmed to his promise. Something inside her gave way. She’d stop worrying about where they were going, and let him take the lead. Because he needed that from her. But for now, she’d had enough of deep conversation. While her chest was still knotted from everything she’d said, she pouted her lips, wanting to make him smile. “I can’t believe you let him see me that way.”

Boone arched a brow. “Do you know what it does to me? And how much he enjoyed that? You spread and tied, your sweet ass pink and hot? It’s a glorious thing for men like us.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand you. You turn propriety on its head and make it sound so natural.” And
feel
as natural as breathing.

“Because it is.” His hand sifted through her hair, then curved to cup the back of her head. “And you feel it too. You haven’t gone running. You’re right here in my arms. Letting me comfort you after I pushed. This is how it works.”

She let her gaze drop, watched the steady rise and fall of his chest as he waited again for her response. From under her eyelashes, she glanced at him. “Was that the whole lesson?”

A smile stretched across his face. “Lessons are over for now. Do you need to come?”

The knot loosened. She spread her legs over his hips and bore down on the thick ridge trapped between their bodies. “Feel how wet I am? How hot?” She pointed a finger and tapped his chest accusingly. “You left me like that.”

“Is this you complaining to your Dom?”

“I’m complaining to the man who owns my pleasure.”

Boone sucked in a deep breath, his eyelids dipping as he scanned her face, gaze settling on her mouth. The hands surrounding her head pulled, bringing her down.

She tilted her head a second before their lips touched, loving the soft pressure of his firm lips, the slight suction that pulled her closer still.

“Take me, Tilly,” he whispered against her mouth. “Take your pleasure. However you want. Your reward.”

“I don’t want to take you, Boone.” She pressed a kiss against his bristly cheek. “I don’t want to be in control. I want to be completely in your thrall.”

A growl rumbled from his throat and he let go of her head. Arms encircled her body and he rolled, taking her underneath him.

Tilly let her hands fall beside her head on the pillow, staring upward, telling him silently she was his. However he wished.

He came up on an elbow and leaned away to rake her body with a hot gaze. “How’s your ass feel?”

She wrinkled her nose. “It burns.”

“Mind leaving the plug in a little longer?”

“You’re the expert here. If you think I should…”

“You’ll like the sensation. The extra pressure. But don’t come—”

“Until you say so. Got it.” She grinned.

Boone shook his head, the corners of his mouth beginning to curl. “I like you, Tilly Floret.”

Warmth spread through her chest. “I like you too, Boone Benoit,” she said, her voice as smooth as honey.

He pushed up on his arms, then crawled down her body. The moment his lips latched onto a nipple, she closed her eyes, expressing her joy in a soft sigh as he gently sucked the turgid tip. Fully engorged, they were sensitive to every pull and curl of his tongue. Her legs moved restlessly, trapped beneath his body. But he took his time, treating each nipple with lavish affection.

And then he moved lower.

Tilly cupped her breasts and warmed them with her hands while he settled between her legs. Fingers traced the length of her slit. Hands slipped beneath her and cupped her bottom, raising her to his mouth.

When his tongue slid between her folds, she moaned and closed her thighs around his head, holding him there.

With every swipe of his tongue along her smooth labia, she lifted her hips higher, tilting to give him access to her depths. Fingers pushed inside, twisting inward, rubbing toward the front of her channel until he found the sensitive place that made her body tremble.

He rubbed and swirled while his mouth closed around her hooded clit.

Tilly mewled, then reached down to twine her fingers in his short hair. She dug into his scalp and rolled her hips, the movements instinctive. Her pleasure rose; her sighs deepened.

Boone drew away and knelt between her thighs. “Turn around, baby. I want you on your knees. Your ass in my face.”

For once, she didn’t mind his crude words, rolling, then getting onto her hands and knees, letting him guide her into position with her chest lowered and her rump high.

Again, fingers traced her slit, parted her, and then the round, wide knob of his cock pushed against her entrance.

On her elbows, she clutched the bedding, her body growing tense as he eased inside her. So much of him, so thick and hot. He crowded her walls, but pulled back, then pushed again. His girth stretched her tender tissues, making her ass tighten around the plug lodged inside. The burning was more intense now, but not intolerable.

Moisture flooded her channel as he eased his way inside. He churned his hips in short, measured bursts, taking her an inch at a time until he was seated deep inside. Holding still, he shifted behind her, his body folding over hers, his hand reaching around, sliding between her legs.

She loved the heat of him pressing against her back and bottom, the thickness lodged inside her. She was surrounded, connected. His.

Forking his fingers, he pulled up her stretched labia, exposing her clit to the cooler air.

Tilly hissed between her teeth, but widened her knees and tilted her ass higher. The first wet swirl atop her engorged knot set her belly and thighs quivering.

“Can you feel the plug?” he asked, his voice a deep, soothing rumble.

“Yes, I’m on fire, Boone.” But she rolled her hips to let him know her discomfort wasn’t something she wanted to end.

“It’s going to get a little rough. You’ll feel the jolts against the plug. Can you take that?”

Tilly moaned. “Please, Boone. Stop talking.”

A graveled chuckle sounded. His fingers left her clit. “Play with your clit, baby. I’m going to be busy.”

She lowered her chest to the mattress and reached between her legs to swirl her fingers on her clit.

Boone straightened behind her, his fingers digging into the hot, tender skin of her ass. The first thrust was smooth and gliding, pushing all the way inside before he withdrew, the slick sound he made lewd and exciting. But then he moved faster. His motions churning in her creamy depths, building friction with his movements.

Tilly’s breaths chopped apart. When he withdrew, she pulled air into her lungs only to feel it leave in harsh gasps as he shoved deep again. Faster and faster…deeper…harder.

He parted her cheeks, and the next flurry of thrusts were so deep his groin touched the base of the plug, jarring it inside her.

Taken in two places now, her mind was set free, overwhelmed by sensation—sharp slaps skin-to-tender-skin, deep thrusts that overfilled her hot, slick inner walls, blunt raps against the plug that excited the nerves of that sensitive orifice.

“It’s too much,” she moaned, letting her fingers fall away from her clit.

Boone pulled free, turned her body and eased down over her. “Wrap yourself around me, baby.”

Limbs and torso trembling, she slipped her hands around his back, digging her nails into the deep indention of his spine and lifted her legs to ride the hard edges of his hips. When he began to move, she kept her eyes open, watching his face, excited all over again by the feral heat, the tightness of his jaw, the way his lips pulled away from his teeth.

Boone was relentless, pistoning quickly, each thrust a deep targeted lunge that caused her breath to gust. She grunted inelegantly, but dug her fingers deeper, her heart beating wildly inside her chest. Desire coiled deep in her belly, building that familiar tension she knew was poised to explode. “Please, Boone. God, please.”

“Now, Tilly. Come for me now,” he growled. He leaned closer, his body forcing her hips to tilt higher.

She raised her legs, letting them fall wider, opening herself to his powerful strokes until at last, her breath caught, her back arched, and she splintered apart.

The room darkened around her; her breaths were harsh, but distant. Sweat melted between them, letting their bodies rub and glide with ease, their opposing motions a wild dance.

When his head jerked back and he gave a guttural roar, she smoothed her palms over the tense muscles rippling in his back until he fell against her, his face nuzzling into the corner of her neck while he dragged in ragged breaths.

She rubbed her cheek against his hair, cupped his head, and soothed him with nonsensical murmurs until his breaths evened out and his body relaxed. Below, she felt the last pulses of his cock releasing semen inside her.

Neither of them had thought about protection for a while, something that surprised her, because she’d always been cautious about unprotected sex. But Tilly wasn’t worried. She trusted that since he knew everything about her, he knew he needn’t worry she had anything to be concerned about. She trusted he had shown the same care for her. Boone wasn’t a careless man. And if their coupling resulted in a child…Tilly smiled at the thought.

A groan sounded in her ear, and her smile widened. “I can’t move. I have this large immovable object anchorin’ me to this bed.”

“Can you breathe?”

She nodded against his hair.

“Then it’s all good. Not moving. I like where my dick is,” he muttered.

She snickered softly, pressed a kiss against his shoulder, and then closed her eyes.

As she drifted off to sleep, the niggling worry in the back of her mind resurfaced.

Denny. What would Boone do with what he’d learned about her brother? Boone wasn’t a monster, wasn’t without compassion. He’d shown her plenty when he’d had cause to hate her.

And yet, here she lay, content and sated. Happier than she’d ever been.

Was she selfish not to be more concerned? Tilly took as deep a breath as she could manage, then let it go.

Tomorrow. She’d worry tomorrow.

The next morning, Boone slipped from bed, careful not to waken Tilly. He dressed in the bathroom, and then walked quietly across the room, letting himself into the hallway and carefully closing the door.

The house was deceptively quiet, but he knew his night crew was still on duty, watching the security monitors, patrolling the grounds.

He was halfway to the stairs when he heard a door open and close, and glanced back to find Jonesy, dressed in sweatpants and flip-flops, following him. “There’s nothing happening. You can go back to bed.”

Jonesy rubbed the back of his head with a hand and squinted his eyes. “You can’t sleep. Neither can I. I’ll keep you company.”

Boone narrowed his gaze. “I don’t want to talk.” What had passed with Tilly was no one’s business but his own now.

Jonesy flashed a quick smile. “Not much of a talker myself.”

“I’m just going for a walk.” Boone shook his head, then cupped his hand to invite the other man. “Might be good to have you along in case a gator crosses our path.”

“But you can outrun me.”

Boone flashed a smile. “Precisely. Slower target.”

Jonesy chuckled and followed him down the stairs.

Once outside, Boone walked to the edge of the back porch, glancing up at the gray twilight peeking between the leaves of a giant, moss-draped oak. Here, deep in the bayou, the outdoors was much noisier than inside. Birds tweeted and cawed, the occasional raspy bark of a squirrel echoed above the distant sound of water lapping against riverbanks.

“I hated living here,” he said, more to himself than his friend. “Growing up, the place felt small, close, like I was suffocating from the humid air and my father’s expectations. All I wanted was to graduate and get the hell out.”

Jonesy leaned his hips against the porch rail, his arms crossed over his broad, naked chest.

Boone shook his head. Jonesy didn’t say a word, simply gave Boone a steady stare, telling him in his quiet way he was there for him. So he sighed and began, needing to talk through what was really on his mind.

“The night Celie died, the sheriff ripped me from my bed and marched me to that cabin to see what I had done. Told me there was no escaping punishment, that my father couldn’t save me. Didn’t matter how many times I said I didn’t do it. I knelt at the cabin door, staring at her bloody body, and suddenly, I didn’t want it to be over. Not her life. Not mine. I didn’t want to leave Bayou Vert.”

Boone shut his eyes and gripped the rail with his hands, pressing hard enough he drove splinters into his palms. He remembered shivering in his pajama bottoms, his knees bloody from being shoved to the dirt as he’d stared at the carnage—at Celie’s ravaged belly and face—feeling weak-kneed with horror, his belly ready to erupt. He hadn’t been able to wrap his mind around what had happened, but imagined the horror of her ordeal. He’d barely breathed, his chest had constricted so tightly.

“Even my father wouldn’t listen. Last time I saw him was in the middle of that night. The sheriff stood over my cot and kicked it to wake me up. Said I had a reprieve. That he’d better never see me in these parts again, or he’d string me up himself. I was hustled to a limo, past my father, who averted his face, and then I was driven all the way to South Carolina and dropped at the steps of a military prep school, still in prison stripes.” He’d been cut adrift from everything familiar, and even though he knew he was innocent, he’d felt pounded into the dirt with guilt.

He raised his head and stared at the sunlight, gleaming brighter now. “I never saw my mother or my father again. They turned their backs on me. Assumed I’d done it. A couple of years later, Mom died in a car wreck. Drunk. My father got into some trouble, something to do with taking money for votes, and he killed himself while I was on my first tour in Afghanistan. I inherited this wreck of an old plantation, along with all of their debts.” Boone swallowed to ease the ache in the back of his throat. “I didn’t have any place to go. No matter how many medals I earned, I couldn’t escape the stain it left inside me. Didn’t matter that no one knew what I was accused of outside of this place. So I stayed in the navy.”

“All of us have our stories, Boone. Not one of us is lily white.”

“I’m not saying I was ever a Boy Scout, Jonesy, but I didn’t do this. I would never…” He slammed his hand against the rail. “Guilt over what happened fueled me to excel. And once I got my head on straight, I decided I had to find a way to build enough wealth so I could return on my terms and find the truth. I couldn’t let things rest. I owed Celie that much. And I can’t let it hang over my head for the rest of my life. I want more than this, Jonesy. More than revenge or justice. I feel like I can’t start the rest of my life until this is over.”

“And now you’re closer to the truth. What are you going to do?”

What Jonesy really meant was what was he going to do with Tilly? If he pursued her brother, she might not ever forgive him. Boone thought about the woman he’d left sleeping in his bed. How she’d comforted him when it should have been the other way around. His growing affection for her hadn’t been part of his plan. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“She’s different.”

He nodded. “I knew one day I’d marry. I assumed I’d find someone I could tolerate and go about my way.”

“I don’t think Tilly would accept you just tolerating her, Boone.” He waggled his eyebrows but kept his voice dead even.

“She made me want more. I can see a future that’s about something other than just…amassing wealth or demolishing bad guys.”

“So what do you want to do?” he asked again.

This time Jonesy’s words were softer, like an echo of Boone’s conscience.

“I have to follow this, Jonesy. I can’t let it go. But I don’t…” He shook his head again, feeling a knot lodge in his gut. “I can’t lose her.”

“Whatever you choose, we’re with you. You want to let the investigation go, we’ll call off the dogs. Leave little brother alone.”

“I’m already in too deep.” Boone’s shoulders fell. “If I don’t find my answers, this matter will always be between us. I have to know. So does she.”

“Even if learning the truth destroys her?”

Boone shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I won’t let that happen.”

“She’s not like us, Boone. She’s got a tender heart. Anything happens to that brother of hers, when she had a chance to keep him safe, she won’t ever forgive herself.”

“I know.” He glanced back toward the door, wondering if she’d awoken, and knowing that the moment she found herself alone, she’d be weighed down with worry over his intentions. He straightened his shoulders. “I want the psychologist I sent to check on Denny at the group home on the phone now.”

Jonesy dropped his arms and gave him a nod. “On it, boss. And we did as you asked, dropped a hint in town with that gossip, Mrs. Nolan, that we were searching for the bracelet. That it might have DNA evidence. If someone else gets nervous about it…” He arched a brow and then began to move away.

“Jonesy.”

His friend glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t get all sentimental or I’ll have to kick your ass.”

Boone flashed a smile and stepped off the porch. He didn’t know how he’d managed it, but he’d made good friends. The kind who would risk their own lives for him, or step in to tell him he was being an idiot. They were an odd, mismatched bunch. All from different parts of the country and different upbringings, but bound by blood and honor.

Needing to think, he headed down the path toward the cabins in the back to the one reduced to ashes around a scorched foundation. He’d follow the investigation no matter where it led. He owed it to Celie. But he’d do his best to shield Tilly from hurt. He hoped being there for her, making things right for her brother, would be enough to restore her faith in him.

* * *

Tilly awoke feeling refreshed despite soreness in some intimate places. She was glad Boone was gone from the room. Although she wasn’t gripped by fear as she had been the previous night when she’d revealed the things she’d kept from Boone, she was far from feeling comfortable, having given him some pretty damning truths.

Still, she was relaxed. Maybe it was the aftermath of great sex, but she suspected the feeling was rooted in something much deeper than that. She was hopeful for the future in a way she’d never been before despite everything she’d revealed. She had confidence Boone would find a way to get to the truth while keeping her brother safe.

After gathering lingerie and a change of clothing, she entered Boone’s bathroom, exploring the feminine toiletries that were lined up beside his inside the cabinet under the sink, and selected a floral bath gel and her favorite shampoo and conditioner. Unscrewing the cap of the gel, she sniffed then turned on the water to heat.

She could get used to having everything she needed provided without ever giving a thought of who did the shopping or how they knew exactly what she’d like. However, if she did think about it, she doubted Beatrice had been so considerate, which meant one of his buddies had shopped for her. Were they responsible for the tampons under the sink?

While her cheeks warmed to the thought, she smiled. She’d changed. Her boundaries were expanding. In more ways than simply sexual. All thanks to Boone. The world was becoming a bigger place. And maybe that was what had her feeling lighter at heart than circumstances warranted.

After showering, Tilly dressed and applied her makeup. Glancing in the mirror, she wondered how much more she would change, and whether she would recognize herself in the coming months.

Exiting the bathroom, she realized with a pang that she hadn’t checked her phone for messages, so she left the house via the servants’ stairs. Once inside the foreman’s cottage, she plucked her phone from where it had been left to charge atop the counter. Someone, not her, had plugged it in.

A press of a button and the screen illuminated. She dragged down her finger and her heart thudded. She’d missed a call from Denny’s group home.

Guilt dampened her mood, and she quickly dialed the number, waiting impatiently for the supervisor to answer.

“Oh, thank the Lord,” Ms. Parham said the moment she answered.

Tilly’s heart dropped to her toes. “What’s wrong?”

“Denny’s gone missing. Wasn’t in his bed this mornin’.”

She drew in a deep breath. “It’s still early. Did he take a walk?”

“He wasn’t in his bed at all last night. The boy never makes his bed without me standin’ over him, but his room was neat as a pin. It’s how I know he snuck out last night.”

Where would he be? Tilly swallowed to wet her dry throat. “Have you called the police?”

“Already done. They’re lookin’ for him everywhere, but knowin’ Denny, he’s tryin’ to go home.”

Tilly closed her eyes. Denny had been so adamant about coming home. She guessed he’d grown impatient waiting for her to come. With her fingers tightened on the sides of the phone, she forced herself to remain calm. “I’ll be on the lookout. It’s an awful long way for him to come. He’d have to hitch a ride.”

“God looks out for innocents,” Ms. Parham said, although her voice was filled with worry.

“Keep me informed,” Tilly said, then ended the call. Dread weighted her movements. She raised the phone again, preparing to call the sheriff’s office, but hesitated. Denny was heading home. She didn’t doubt that for a minute. He’d sounded so lonely the other day, so lost. She should have dropped everything to go see him; instead she’d gallivanted off to Mexico.

If something happened to him because she’d been selfishly living her life, she’d never forgive herself. But still, she hesitated to call the sheriff. What tangent of conversation might Denny follow? What secret might he inadvertently spill?

She gathered her phone and purse and headed to the garage, glancing around as she moved.

The thought crossed her mind to ask for Boone’s help, but he’d know soon enough something was going on. As soon as the Thibodaux police called the sheriff’s office, the APB would be on the police band. She wanted to be ahead of Boone and his men. Wanted to be the one to find Denny. He was her brother. He deserved to have family holding his hand when Boone dragged out that damn bracelet and dangled it in front of his nose.

Knowing Boone’s people would know the moment she left, she pretended nonchalance as she headed to her car. Maybe they’d think she had an errand. No doubt someone would follow, but she wouldn’t give them any cause for alarm.

The garage was empty when she climbed into her car. She met no one, saw no one as she unwound the wire holding together the iron gate and drove toward town.

The phone on the seat beside her hummed.

She picked it up, tapped the screen, and tucked it into the crook of her neck.

“Tilly?”

“Denny? That you?” she asked, the relief nearly overwhelming.

“Tilly, I’m home.”

Tilly gunned the gas pedal, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “Denny, are you at our old house?”

“I’m home. No one’s here. She said she’d bring me, but she doesn’t have a key.”

Tilly’s brows drew together. “Denny, who’s with you? Put them on the phone.”

But the call ended. She glanced at the face of the phone, hit the recent calls, and saw the readout. Mae Baillio.

Mae?
Tilly frowned, wondering how the crotchety woman had become involved, but then remembered Denny would have had to pass Mae’s on his way to the house. No doubt the older woman picked him up when he came into town. She hit
REDIAL
but the phone rang and rang.

“Dammit.” At least she knew he was safe, but she wasn’t very happy about seeing Mae again so soon. She’d had enough of her censure the other day in the cafe.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw a dark sedan in the distance and bit back a curse. Since she wanted a little time alone with her brother before the cavalry arrived, she passed Belle Tierre, turned on the next street, and made another sharp turn, gunning it. Whoever was following was far enough behind her that he couldn’t be sure which road she’d taken.

She turned again, onto Belle Tierre, and noted with relief Mae’s car was parked near the culvert. Tilly pulled in behind Mae’s older-model sedan, turned off the ignition, and got out of her car.