Inside the Lines: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel (12 page)

Does Fin bring with him the same danger of losing control and taking chances? While the more I’m around him, the deeper I fall for him…it also dredges up darkness that I haven’t contended with in some time.

I’m lost in thought when I hear Fin’s voice calling my name. He finds me leaning against the desk, reading the accolades on the wall.

“Ye wondered into no man’s land, eh?”

“Hm?”

“This barn needs its roof replaced, and it’s not been used for some time. It’s sturdy enough, but given that we board animals for people, they don’t want to risk a lawsuit in case something would happen.”

The scent of soap and wintergreen tickles my nose, and when Fin leans down to kiss me, I respond with a passion borne from my tempestuous thoughts. His hands seek my thighs, lifting me so my legs grasp his waist. His jeans press against my bare flesh, and I suck in a breath as his hands spread my ass and hold me even tighter against him.

“I want to be inside ye, Lux,” he says against my mouth.

“Can the door be locked?”

“Aye, but I have a bigger problem.”

I chuckle. “I can feel that.”

He rests his forehead against mine. “Aye, well, that’s not all. I dinna have any protection on me. I can run back to my apartment—”

I press my lips to his. “I’m tested and clean.”

“I am as well, but I dinna want you to think—”

“Fuck me,” I say and shove my tongue in his mouth, eliminating any further argument.

Our breaths collide as our passions rise, and I rub against the harsh texture of his jeans, enjoying his trapped erection.

“I must have ye on my cock.” He sets me on my feet so he can lock the door, then he unfastens his belt and jeans. He pulls me to him again, mouth hot on my neck and collarbone. His naked cock caught between us, I shift my stomach against it, earning a groan from him. I unbutton my shirt, slipping out of it as he reaches for my bra. I’m left only in my boots and plaid skirt. The dim room is cool, but I don’t feel it as I bend down to take him in my mouth. He grips my arms, though, lifting me to my feet and turning me so my back presses against his chest.

“I’m going to take ye hard, love, as hard as ye took me that night ye tied me down.”

His hand grips my breast, squeezing so hard I nearly cry out, but the pain fuels my passion, and when he bends me over the desk, I want to object, but the feel of his hand on my hip, his cock throbbing against me, is too much, and all I want is Fin. Inside me. Now.

He fills me with one thrust, and I feel as though I’m being torn in two. His thick cock spreads me so wide, I can barely gasp. When he pulls out, I suck air, but then he surges back into me, one hand holding me still, the other pinching my nipple with a vise-like grip. And I love it. Even as he fucks me hard and I’m nearly senseless with desire, I realize that I’ve never been quite like this—so out of control, and so desperate for someone else to give me what I need. He slaps my ass, first lightly, then harder, and the snap of pain sends my orgasm soaring. I want to scream as I explode inside, but he covers my mouth, slipping a finger between my lips as I fight to avoid making noise.

He leans over me, my body pinioned on his cock, his arms holding me against his body. “Did I hurt ye? Are ye okay?”

I nod. “Don’t stop,” I whisper hoarsely.

So he doesn’t. Pressing me to the desk, he reaches even deeper inside me, his cock seeming to grow larger with each thrust, and as he fucks me, he spares no mercy. Another climax threatens me, even as my legs grow weak, and when I can take no more intensity, it ruptures through me anyway, decimating any defenses I might have built, and lands with a ferocity that leaves me nearly unconscious in its wake.

Chapter 14

Switch

“Oh my God. This is probably the best barbecue I’ve ever had.” Juice drips down my hands from the sandwich, and I ignore it in favor of the bliss assaulting my taste buds. “I may never eat anything else.”

We’re at, quite literally, a “stand” that sits on the side of the road. With the exception of a few small plastic tables and chairs, the food is meant to be taken to go.

I’m also delighted to discover that Fin drives an old truck, one he borrows from the farm. While I’ve never had any cowboy fantasies, there is something incredibly sexy about a guy in a roughed-up pickup. So we drop the tailgate, spread an old, horsey blanket we found behind the seats, and nosh homemade pulled-pork sandwiches and fresh-cut french fries.

Fin smiles. “I’ve been quite fond of this place since I discovered it, but then, I dinna know much about barbecue to begin with. Glad you like it.” He takes a bite of his own sandwich, which requires a certain amount of strategy so the soft bun doesn’t fall apart around the meat. We sit in companionable silence until we’re finished, then we start on the fries.

“Any more word from yer investors?”

“It’s happening. I just got the call to set up a time with their liaison to sign the papers. I guess they have some kind of rule from the CEO that all deals are signed in person with one of their people. They’re coming to me, so I can’t complain.” I swipe a fry through ketchup.

“Are ye excited?”

I realize that I’m frowning, so I grin. “Yes. I am. But a bit nervous. This is a huge change for me. And while I love what I do…this could get in the way of it.”

“Being a Dominatrix, ye mean?”

I nod, munching. It occurs to me that I have no idea how he feels about my career. “Does it bother you? What I do for a living?”

He leans back against the truck, moving his leg so he’s still touching me. “No. Why should it?”

I rake my gaze over him, enjoying the way his chest fills out his t-shirt. “Well, it’s something that could bother a partner. I’m intimate with the fantasies of my clients, and while I don’t sleep with them,”
anymore,
I say to myself, “it’s still pretty sexual at its core.” I meet his squinting eyes. “That doesn’t bother you even a little?”

He ponders for a moment, his lips pressed together. “I
wasna
bothered…” He flashes me a smile, his dimple in full effect. “I’d be a bit more concerned if ye were sleeping with a bunch of other people, I suppose. But I’m not particularly jealous of the person ye’re beating with yer wee whips.” He snorts and mocks a shiver. “Rather them than me.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Point taken.”

Despite the warm day, when he leans forward to run a hand over my arm, I get goosebumps at the contact. “I want ye to be happy, Lux. I’m not looking for a relationship with multiple people, mind ye. That’s not who I am. I care about ye, and what ye do is part of what makes ye who ye are. After all, I thought ye had sex with clients when I asked ye out.” He pauses for a moment, an embarrassed smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He chuckles softly when I give him a cocked eyebrow. “Aye, well, I dinna say I was particularly brilliant about the way I did it. But I shouldna have asked ye out if I dinna accept what ye did.”

“Wow.” I whistle in admiration. “Where did you get so open-minded?”

He ponders for a moment, then says with a furrowed brow. “I dinna know, honestly. My parents are very traditional in their beliefs, but they’re progressive enough. I was raised with a mind of my own, if ye will.”

“Are your siblings like you?” I know he’s from a relatively large family—compared to my own, anyway—but while he’s mentioned them a few times, we haven’t gotten around to the big “family tree” exchange, particularly because I avoid it so deftly.

“Aye, more or less.” He collects our trash, then rejoins me on the tailgate. “Ye’re an only child?”

I fiddle with my sunglasses. “I almost forgot to ask—how are your applications with the colleges going?”

“I called yesterday, as a matter of fact. I haven’t heard anything from Cornell, and since my application for next term was barely in under the deadline, I dinna ken if they’ll let me start.”

“So if you do, you’ll start in January.”

“That’s my hope.” He reaches for my hand, his fingers linking with mine. “Ye dinna like to talk about yer family much.”

I trace the outline of our fingers with my other hand. “It’s a good day. Let’s not go there.”

He squints against the sun but doesn’t look away. “Fair enough. But I’m not going to run away if ye’re related to the Sasquatch, love.”

I chuckle. “Thanks, I think.” The mood is broken, so we head back. Fin drops me off at my car, and for the first time in my life, I make out in a pickup. There’s definitely something to be said for it.

On the way home, though, unwelcome thoughts come to roost. I’m not exactly sure what Fin and I are doing. Due to my reticence, we haven’t had any “are we dating” discussions, and as a result, I feel a bit adrift. Which is ridiculous, because I’m the one who’d avoid “labeling” it anyway. But the intensity of my emotions when I’m in his space troubles me. I’m not one apt to fall in love, and this feels dangerously close to it. The cons of getting involved with him mount in my head, and I feel gloomier with each mile.

One: He’s not here permanently. If he doesn’t get into college, he’ll have to go home. Two: He’s just starting college and considering his career. While there may only be five—five!—years difference between us, where we are at in life is vastly different. 3: …

I rack my brain to think of another con. Being shockingly good-looking and ridiculously nice and open-minded aren’t flaws. And when I think of him inside me earlier in the barn…I’ve had a lot of fun sex over the years—it comes with the territory. But there’s a passion to sex with Fin that I haven’t experienced in a long time. Perhaps ever. He submits easily, but he likes taking over as well. I don’t know how I feel about that. I’ve spent a long time in the driver’s seat in most of my romantic and sexual relationships. I don’t know if I’m cut out for a relationship where I’m not the one in control 100% of the time.

And
that
thought makes me really uncomfortable. What kind of partner am I if I can’t share the reins? Who am I if I do?

The shower turns on, and I gather my equipment, returning each piece—crop, rubber whip, paddle—to its place. I pack up my restraints and gag, all of which will be washed when I get home. Then I perch on the edge of the bed, still in my corset and thigh-high boots, though I’ve pulled my trench coat over my ensemble.

When Charles walks back into the bedroom of the hotel suite, he looks refreshed, lighter in step, and he smiles widely. “Once again, Mistress Hathaway, I can’t thank you enough.”

Charles’s desire for conversation after his sessions continues, and I’ve come to genuinely like him. He’s intelligent, and though I don’t know much about him, he seems polite and well-read. I can’t quite guess what he does for a living, but I’ve no doubt it’s something impressive. It must be, given the cost of this room and my services.

“My pleasure as always,” I say on rote, though I truly do mean it. I’m not completely present in the moment, and I can’t quite figure out why.

He looks at me. “You seem a bit distracted. Not that I didn’t enjoy myself, of course,” he’s quick to add. “But I did notice a bit of shadow behind your eyes.”

His intuitive comment shakes my facade. “I apologize. I didn’t mean that to affect your—”

“No, no, it didn’t. But I’ve been seeing you twice a week for…oh, about a month or so now? And today, you seem…not quite yourself. May I be so bold as to ask if I can be of any help? Perhaps just to talk about whatever is bothering you?”

I take a deep breath. I do not get personal with my clients. Often they tell me dark secrets because I give them a safe place in which to do so, but I do not share my issues in exchange. I hold myself to these professional standards. But in this moment, I want to ask him something so badly that I can’t stop the words when they spring to my lips. “I’ve met someone. And I don’t…” I trail off, desperately wishing I could take the words back. What am I doing? My mouth, though, seems to have a mind of its own. “How did you know you were submissive?”

The question surprises him—and me—and he takes a seat on the edge of the settee across from the bed. “That’s a good question. I think I’ve always known. I knew when I was a child, and I would imagine my teachers putting me in a corner, tying me down, spanking me; unfortunately, by then, spanking in schools had been forbidden.” His eyes glint in humor. “But I think I’ve always been this way. How about you? How did you know you were dominant?”