Okay, he got advanced warning, but it hardly mattered, because he had no way of knowing her “punishment” would involve cupping his balls and squeezing. Hard. Hard enough to strand him on a thin, sharp precipice halfway between heaven and hell.
“I swear to God, you do that again I’m going to—”
“What?” she challenged, and damn her, squeezed again.
Come, as it turned out. Helplessly, endlessly, in an avalanche of sensation that left him wrung out and shuddering.
“Jesus, Ellie…that was…” She’d drained him so thoroughly, he couldn’t finish a sentence. Amazing? Paralyzing? Somewhere between the best and most annihilating experience of his life?
Ellie whisked the blindfold off and smiled down at him with sly, feline superiority. Leaning forward until her mouth brushed his ear, she whispered, “Told you you’re the submissive.”
He wanted to call bullshit, but when she levered herself up to uncuff him, his exhausted penis slipped out of its favorite place, making him feel even less dominating. Definitely not something he could live with. As soon as his wrists were free, a quick flex of his hips toppled her, and a fast flip put him back on top. Pinning her hands by her head, he inquired, “Now who’s the submissive?”
“Brute strength proves nothing.”
“Don’t you worry, Doc, there’s more to me than brute strength.”
She raised her eyebrows and ground her hips against his. “Right now? I don’t think so. Male sexual recovery time being what it is, I’d say my dominant status is safe for at least another ten minutes.”
He smiled a slow, deliberate smile. “Don’t be too sure. I brought a friend.”
Those arched brows of hers furrowed into an adorably crinkled line. “A friend?”
“That’s right.” He reached into the shopping bag and pulled out a neon-pink Bunny. “Say hello to my little friend. I like to call him…Thumper.” A quick flick of the power button, and he waved the humming, gyrating vibrator in front of her.
She shrieked and tried to squirm away. Luckily, fast reflexes ran in his blood. She didn’t get far, and when he finally introduced Thumper properly, her protests turned to the sweet, breathless cries he knew so well.
“Love that sound,” he said and teased the head of the phallus directly over the spot he knew would increase the volume and frequency. “I could listen all night.” With that, he moved Thumper to less sensitive territory. Her cries subsided into a low, edgy moan. “All night,” he repeated, and retraced the path, delighted to discover she could, when correctly motivated, intersperse those “I’m about to come” cries with some very effective begging.
An hour later, they lay tangled across her bed, limp and panting, and for his part at least, satisfyingly sore in a few key muscle groups. “You can put an A+ next to chapter 6,” he mumbled, enjoying the sensation of her fingernails running lightly over his shoulders.
“Thanks. Speaking of my list, I hoped next time we could cover chapter—”
A fist pounding on her front door cut her off. Then a slurred voice yelled, “Ellie! Open the damn door or I?
?ll kick it in. I’ve had enough of you badmouthing me ’round town.” The fist pounded again. “Open! This! Door!”
Ellie groaned and crossed her arms over her eyes, effectively covering her face. “Go away, Frank,” she whispered.
She couldn’t possibly know how utterly alone and adrift she looked. Historically, such a look would have served as his cue to get the hell out—and sweep Frank off her doorstep while he was at it—because God knew he didn’t have the first clue how to stick around and be somebody’s anchor. Have some laughs? Sure. Take on a problem that couldn’t be fixed with power tools or sex or both? Not within his skill set. But for some crazy reason, with Ellie, he wanted to dig in and try. Not just because the situation between her and her father brought out every protective instinct he possessed, but because, for once, he wanted to anchor someone…and he wanted someone anchored to him. Another realization rushed up and slapped him in the face on the heels of the first. He’d fallen for her—for her sometimes amusing, sometimes confounding combination of strength, brains, drive, vulnerability, and mile-wide stubborn streak. He’d fallen for the whole complicated package, screwed-up father included.
Frank banged on the door again.
“I’ll go have a chat with him,” he said, reaching for his jeans. He didn’t know how Frank would react to him answering Ellie’s door, and he really didn’t give a flying fuck. Father or not, the guy was out of line showing up in the middle of the night, yelling and cursing.
“No, don’t.” She got up and retrieved her robe from the hook on the bathroom door. “Nothing personal, but you going out there will only make things worse. Do me a huge favor and just stay here.”
He yanked his jeans up and opened his mouth to tell her even a lap dog wasn’t that submissive, but then he saw her face—a heartbreaking blend of misery and mortification—and knew whatever he did to insert himself into the situation with Frank would add to her embarrassment. Maybe he shouldn’t have cared, because Ellie’s pride-saving preferences didn’t trump keeping her out of harm’s way, but he remembered too well the humiliation of having Big Joe show up somewhere, drunk and on a tear. About now she desperately wanted Frank to shut up and go home, with as few witnesses as possible. He understood.
Because he did, he waited until her big, reluctant eyes met his, and said as gently but firmly as he could manage, “Go tell him I’ll be out in a minute to drive him home.”
“Tyler, please…stay here.”
“Not a chance. I don’t know how he got here, but he’s not staying, and he sure as hell isn’t going anywhere under his own steam in his condition.”
“I’ll take him home.”
“Guess again. You think you can force him into your car if he doesn’t want to go?”