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Authors: Maggie McCullough

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BOOK: Shaken (Colorado Bold Book 1)
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Chapter 7

 

She remained kneeling as Evan drew back. He removed her blindfold. The ragged emotion in Evan’s eyes and his erratic breathing made her smile with feminine satisfaction. Her heart soared with the knowledge that she had the same effect on him that he did on her.

Even semi-erect, his cock was impressive. She couldn’t suppress a giggle when it twitched under her prurient gaze. A quick glance at Evan’s stern expression made her look downward. He twitched again. She struggled not to smile.

“Take my shirt off,” Evan ordered.

One quick flick of her fingers released the top button and then the others. Soon his shirt hung open and revealed a firm chest and abdomen. Evan had just enough hair to be interesting and led down to his quickly recovering groin.

“Oh my.” She looked back up. “Already?”

He chuckled. “That was just round one, baby. I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

His frank speech embarrassed Anne. “I need to freshen up a bit first.”

Her knees wobbled as she made her way to his bathroom. A new toothbrush lay on the counter for her. She used the facilities and brushed her teeth, not quite recognizing her own reflection in the mirror. The flushed face, tousled hair, and swollen lips couldn’t belong to her, could they? Other men in her life hadn’t left her looking like that. And Evan hadn’t even fucked her tonight, at least not yet. She was so in over her head with him.

Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the bathroom. Evan was sitting on the edge of an armless chair near the fireplace. He was naked, gloriously naked. Wide shoulders, chiseled chest and abdomen, lean hips and legs, and oh, what stood between them. Anne gawked at his nudity, his masculine perfection.

“Come here, baby.” He patted his lap. “Sit here facing me.”

She did as he commanded and straddled him, loving the naughty sensation of her silk stockings against his strong legs. For a split second, as the cool air teased her exposed bottom, she longed for her discarded panties. Feeling a bit self-conscious at his intense perusal, she lowered her gaze.

He did not remove her strapless bra. He left her breasts uncovered, supported and uplifted by the lacey cups, laid out.

“God, baby, you are beautiful.” His voice was a hoarse growl. “I’m going to fucking love watching you come apart for me.”

A tremor of sexual anticipation coursed through her body. She had never been with a man who talked so much during sex. Having him describe what he planned to do was as effective as the action itself. Her nipples puckered, her toes curled, and an ache started deep inside. And he hadn’t even laid a hand—or mouth—on her. Her gaze darted to his. His eyes were smoldering with a suppressed passion that made her shiver once more.

“I’m going to start with these rosy little nipples just begging for attention.”

Evan tweaked both of Anne’s nipples while she watched. Surprisingly, the sight of his tanned fingers against her pale breast aroused her as much as his touch. She whimpered as an intense bolt of heat seared through her. She grabbed his shoulders and leaned on him for support.

“I can’t believe how you make me feel.” Her breath was coming in quick, erratic pants. “I don’t know if I can take much more of this.”

“Yes, you can, babe.” He leaned forward and nibbled her ear. “You’ve only had men interested in their own needs.” His hot breath sent shivers clear to her toes. “I promise you as much pleasure as you can handle.”

She reached to stroke his burgeoning member.

“No, you don’t, baby.” He took her hand away. “Lean back with your hands on my knees.” He pulled her hips forward so her pussy lay against the underside of his cock. She bucked upwards, her clit trying to make contact with his heated rigidity.

“Oh my God,” she moaned. “You turn me on.”

“Don’t think, baby. Just relax and concentrate on how I make you feel.”

He held her, hands on her ribs, arching her breasts toward him. Evan took one rock hard, tingling nipple to his mouth, laved the straining tip with a circular motion, and sucked it deep into his mouth. Anne uttered a visceral groan as currents of lust rippled through her. Evan switched to the other breast—teased, tasted, bit it gently. She clutched at his knees, gripping tighter as her arousal grew.

“More, more,” she whimpered, abandoning herself to the overwhelming sensations.

He obliged. He sank his teeth into her ripe flesh as if he wanted to devour her. He gnawed, chewed, sucked.

“Ohhh, please. Do it. Suck them,” she panted, hardly able to get the words out.

“That’s it, baby, talk to me. Tell me how much you love it.”

He grabbed her hips and pulled her snug against him. His legs forced hers farther apart, opening her up against his heat. He moved his hands back up to shove both breasts into one sumptuous mound, and his mouth ravaged both nipples at once.

Anne bucked up, and her throbbing clit made contact with his unyielding cock. Her flesh did not resist; the slick folds parted around his hot length like honey. She moaned and wriggled her bottom to gain a more satisfactory contact. She undulated her hips in frantic circles against his cock, seeking what little friction could be had with her current state of arousal. Her swollen little nub throbbed, needing that one last touch to send her over the precipice.

“Evan, don’t make me beg.” Liquid fire raced with tantalizing fingers up and down her body, igniting every nerve, enveloping her in a fog of carnal desire. “You are driving me mad.”

“I want you crazy wild.” Evan continued to torment her breasts. “I want you begging for release.”

I’ve got to come, please God, I’ve got to—

“I want you so hot that you come as soon as I enter you.”

She whimpered at the loss of his mouth at her breasts. Her nipples were swollen and cherry red in color. He thrust his hips upward, initiating a teasing pressure against her pulsating center. She pushed off his knees for leverage and strained forward, whimpered when she felt the head of his cock at her entrance. She vibrated with need and thrust her hips forward, and a bit more of him slid in; her internal muscles did their best to pull him in deeper.

“All right, damn it, give it to me.” She couldn’t help it. Time to beg. “Please, please, please.” Her breath came in harsh, ragged gasps.

“Brace yourself, baby.”

He seated himself in her with one deep thrust. Her scream of fulfillment echoed through the room. Anne’s head fell back and her breasts heaved. She contracted violently around him, filled with spasm after spasm of delirious pleasure. She pumped her hips robotically as she rode through the waves of exquisite tremors.

He gripped her torso, stood, and duck-walked her to the bed, her hips snug against his.

“Don’t you drop me,” she said, too satiated and limp to care that much.

“Not to worry. You’re staying right here on my cock.”

Evan laid her half on the bed but remained standing, his cock penetrating her to the hilt. He raised both of her legs over his shoulders until she was almost hanging upside down. His cock worked in and out of her in a steady rhythm; his hands on her buttocks encouraged her hips to move in concert with his thrusts.

Anne closed her eyes and surrendered to his masterful plundering of her willing body. He paused at the end of one thrust, did not move. She was stretched so deliciously tight around him that she could feel every throbbing nuance. He probably would not admit it, but she could tell he was close.

Could she use that to her advantage?

She contracted the muscles in her legs and began to rock against him. She had a wicked urge to feel him lose control, to surrender to her this time. She squeezed her vaginal muscles as tight as she could.

“Two can play that game,” he growled.

He wrapped one arm around her hips, anchoring her close. She jerked as his finger parted her slick folds and found her yearning clit.

Searing fire coursed through her sex. A sudden tremor shook her body. Evan didn’t play fair at all. He teased her aching nub until it jerked with tiny spasms. She rocked back and forth on him. Evan resisted her blatant invitation; he just stroked and caressed that little turgid piece of flesh until Anne was aware of nothing but the delicious torment. She headed toward the precipice yet again.

She grabbed at the comforter on his bed, fisted it with talon-like fingers. She wanted to be taken by this man as she had never been taken before.

“Fuck me, baby,” he hissed. “Fuck my cock. Do it. You want it. Take what you want. Come for me.”

He drew back and plunged into her soul with a fierceness that stunned her.

Her heart soared.

The world stopped.

She cried out.

An orgasm exploded in her that threatened to tear her apart, limb from limb. Her cry turned into an all-out throaty scream. Her breasts heaved and she quivered all over.

Her hips kept their rhythmic pumping, begging for more of him, for his surrender to her. With a grunt, he stiffened and filled her. She continued until he had no more to give.

When it was over, Evan laid her gently upon the bed and joined her there. They both lay back in exhaustion.

He murmured, “Mmmm, I can’t wait until we use the handcuffs.”

Anne waited until he snored and then crept out of bed. She found her clothes and dressed by the light from the fireplace.

Minutes later, she was driving back to Denver.

Chapter 8

 

“Why are you here and not in what’s-his-name’s bed?”

Anne poked her head out from underneath her blanket. Macy moved from the doorway to the window and, as Anne watched, opened the blinds. She grimaced as the bright morning sun seared her tired eyes.

“Go away.” She burrowed her head again. “His name is Evan.”

Macy snorted. “Come on, get up. It’s time to tell Macy all the juicy details before I leave to meet Ian.”

“Coffee. I need coffee if you insist on being so damn cheerful.” Anne groaned and rose to a sitting position. She grabbed a scrunchy from the nightstand and corralled her out-of -control curls.

“I’m way ahead of you. Here.” Macy handed Anne a cup of steaming coffee. “Black like you prefer.”

Macy plopped on the bed, almost causing Anne to spill her coffee. “Come on, tell Macy everything.” A devilish smile lit up her face. “Was it as good last night as it was the first time?”

Anne’s cheeks heated with embarrassment. “Um, I didn’t exactly spend a whole lot of time there. In bed, that is.” She couldn’t quite meet Macy’s eyes. The bottom of her coffee cup held her rapt attention under Macy’s scrutiny.

“Where did you go?”

Anne tore her gaze from the cup. Macy’s head was tilted to one side, and her lips were pursed.

Macy continued, “I don’t understand.”

“Well, there was this candlelit table…”

Macy’s interest tickled Anne. Usually Macy related tales of her escapades, instead of the other way around.

“And linen-covered chairs with bows made from black scarves. We had a glass of wine.” She smiled at Macy. “That was before he blindfolded me and carried me upstairs over his shoulder like a caveman.”

Macy bounced up and down on the bed like a little kid. Anne giggled at Macy’s reaction.

“That’s not the half of it. Once upstairs, he bound my hands with another scarf and tied them over my head, so it was like I was kinda just hanging there.”

Anne launched into a brief R-rated version of what happened after that.
Some things a girl has to hug to herself
.

“Macy, it bothers me a bit that he suggested using handcuffs the next time.” Somehow, handcuffs seemed more extreme, more dangerous, than scarves. “Has anyone used handcuffs on you?”

“There was this one police officer I knew a few years ago. He handcuffed me to the bed once…well, maybe more than once.” Macy stopped speaking for a minute. “I wonder what he’s doing now. Talk about sex on a stick.” She turned serious. “You know, hon, it’s possible Evan might be into some minor bondage stuff. Or maybe even into Domination and submission. That’s way kinkier than bondage, although people can carry bondage to extremes as well.”

“Domination? Submission?” Now Anne was confused.

“There are men who obsess about being in total control of their sex partners. Women, too, I guess. I’ve heard that they even whip each other. You need to be careful. Check it out.” Macy paced the floor and turned back to Anne. “Tell me the truth. Has he hurt you?”

“Oh, no, quite the contrary.” Anne’s face blazed again. “We did things I’ve never done before, but there was definitely no pain involved.”
Not unless you consider four orgasms painful.

“Google it. You should know what you are getting into.” Macy stood and walked to the bedroom door. “I gotta go. Remember what I said. Check it out and check him out. Think about it. How much do you really know about this Evan? I mean, more than the great sex. Everyone loves vanilla, but spumoni is an acquired taste.” Macy grinned. “You know, I’m almost jealous.” She left.

Curious now, Anne jumped from the bed and turned on her laptop. While it was booting up, she padded to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. Returning to the bedroom, she picked up her laptop, sat cross-legged on her bed, and let her fingers do the researching. She started with an online encyclopedia.

As she read, she widened her eyes. Who would have thought an entire subculture existed who were involved in this bondage and submission thing that Macy spoke about?

Whips and chains and collars, oh God
. Is this what Evan is all about?

Anne sucked in a quick breath at the photos. Pictures of women bound with rope so they could not move, others of women tied standing in some type of frame with men and women watching. More disturbing ones of naked women handcuffed to a padded bench, positioned so that anyone might penetrate them. And there was leather—black shiny leather—masks, cut-out bras, and pants or skirts with thigh-high boots.

No wonder Macy had warned her to be cautious. Evan certainly exhibited some dominant traits; he liked to be in control.

“Are you always this bossy?”

“Sweetie, you have no idea.”

Should she be concerned about why she had enjoyed it so much?

If Evan was indeed a Dominant, did that mean she was a submissive?
No way
.

Anne would never consent to being whipped; she was definitely not into pain. And she had a difficult time believing Evan wanted to hurt her.

And it will be a cold day in Hell before I wear a collar around my neck.
She turned the computer off. She had read enough.

Anne paced her bedroom floor in a quandary. Was she going to have to give Evan up?

Give up the best sex she had experienced in her life?

Walk away from someone who made her melt and quiver in his presence, caused her to scream with ecstasy as he gave her one orgasm after another?

Was that the bait that drew defenseless women into their snare?

She was not going to be a pitiful submissive, groveling at some Dominant’s feet. She had more pride than that.

What about teaching? What would the school board say if they knew? How could she look all the parents in the eye, knowing what she had done? What if her students found out? Or the other teachers?

What about Mom and Dad? They would be horrified.

Evan’s probably glad you left. He had his fun and is ready to move on
.

Why did Anne have this sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach at the thought of never seeing him again, never having his hands and his mouth on her, never screaming out his name as she climaxed?

Her shoulders slumped. A lump formed in her throat. A solitary tear rolled down her face. She headed for the shower. Time to face reality and get out while she could.

She could move on without Evan.

Maybe if she told herself that often enough, she’d actually start to believe it.

The shower spray had turned from hot to warm, and then to cold before Anne stepped out. She studied her red, swollen eyes in the mirror and sniffed.
You’d better pull yourself together, girl
.

The persistent buzzing of her cell phone caught her attention. She donned a fluffy terry cloth robe and went to the bedroom. Anne knew without looking that it would be Evan. The phone might as well have been a threatening rattlesnake for the all desire she had to answer it. Resolving to do what needed to be done, she punched the on button.

Answer, damn it.

As she suspected, Evan. She scrolled upwards. Only about a dozen or so similar messages.
I might as well get this over with.

I’m here,
she typed.

Thank God. I was worried something might have happened to you.

I’m fine.
How nice that he was concerned.
Maybe he does care for me.
Anne tried to shrug off the heart-warming gesture.

Why did you leave without telling me?

Anne could almost picture his scowl. She replied,
I didn’t think you’d want me to be around when you woke up.

If I didn’t want you there, your sweet ass would have been sitting in that poor excuse for a car even if I had to push-start it.

He was never going to let her live her cute little Bug down. Not that it was any of his business now that she wasn’t going to see him again.

More to the point, if I hadn’t wanted a repeat of that first night, I wouldn’t have made contact with you afterward.

I thought it might be awkward if I was still there.
Her fingers shook.

That was the understatement of the year. Anne didn’t know how she could have faced him, remembering everything they had done and how she had reacted. A tingling swept up the back of her neck and across her face as she thought about it.

Awkward? For who? You? Not for me
.

That should be self-evident to him, right? Anne didn’t think that comment deserved a response.

Are you still there? Or did you run away again?

I’m still here.
Anne would never be able to tell him to get lost if she were facing him.

I should have handcuffed you to the bed so you couldn’t leave.

A vision of Evan standing over her while she lay in bed, handcuffed and helpless, flashed through her head. Anne tried to shut it out. It served no purpose to have naughty fantasies about Evan now.
Naughty fantasies? Really?
Weren’t handcuffs supposed to scare her and not get her nipples all tingly?

Anne, are you there? What’s wrong?

She might as well get it over with.

I’ve been thinking a lot about last night.

Evan would probably think that sentence meant she thought about how great it had been. Not that it wasn’t…great, that is.

Visions of how she must have looked fast-forwarded through her brain—of being down on her knees, taking him in her mouth, or later, practically hanging upside down while he turned her inside out. Damned if she wasn’t getting turned on from the memories.

I was hoping for a repeat performance this morning or this afternoon. Maybe even tonight.

She steeled herself for what she had to write.

I’m thinking it might not be such a good idea to see you again.

There, it was out. How would he react? Anne waited with bated breath.

What?

Would he be angry or relieved?

Why? You seemed to be enjoying yourself. I know I was.

Anne shook her head. Such a man, thinking sex was the answer to everything.

That’s beside the point. It doesn’t seem proper to do what we did.

Let him argue with that. Average people did not tie people up or whip each other.

Anne ignored the little voice telling her she had known full well she would be blindfolded and had looked forward to it. Evan did not spring that little detail on her at the last minute.
And I did enjoy it
.

She continued before she lost her nerve.

I did some research this morning on the Internet.

I don’t want to be someone who submits to a Dominant.

I don’t want to kiss your feet like a servant.

I don’t want to be whipped.

I don’t want to be embarrassed in public.

I don’t want to wear a collar on my neck and be led around like a dog.

That just isn’t done.

I’m an educator, for God’s sake. I’ll lose my job.

What would people think?

What would my parents think?

All of her objections rushed out in a flash flood of emotion.

One minute went by, then two.

Anne, we need to talk about this, but not this way. You’re scared, and you didn’t understand what you were reading. We need to discuss this in person.

No, I can’t. When I’m with you, I can’t think straight. You cloud my perspective. You use my body against me.

You think too much, Anne. You want to stay in your safe little world, away from the big, bad man who does bad things.

I’ve already decided.

This isn’t a decision you get to make by yourself.

Anne waited. There were no further texts.

What did he mean by that last statement?

Who cares anyway? I don’t. Who cares if he makes me come alive, makes my blood sing, makes me feel instead of think. I don’t care at all. Good riddance.

Then why did her heart feel this aching sense of loss?

* * * *

“Fuck!”

Evan threw the phone across the room. It hit the opposite wall and fell to the floor.

He paced his bedroom like a lion in a cage, its tail whipping back and forth.
What in the fuck does she think she’s doing?

He needed to calm down and think.

Do what you’ve told her not to do; after all, you are the one supposed to be in control, right?

Evan sat down in the oversized chair next to the fireplace and poured a couple fingers of scotch from the crystal bottle on the end table. He picked up the broken heel from Anne’s shoe he kept there. He rubbed it as he brooded over what must be done.

Maybe I should let her go.
So what if she wants to call it off?

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