Edge of the Enforcer by Cherise Sinclair
The water felt wonderful on her sweaty body—and stung on a few of the more tender areas, so she turned around.
Oh wow, just look at him. The brighter bathroom lights played over deVries’s body. Totally, devastatingly gorgeous. All muscle. Leaner than a weight lifter, and somehow more dangerous. A purple bruise marred his forearm, mottled black-and-green bruises covered his hip, and above was a row of stitches. “What—”
When she looked up, his gaze was cold. Deadly.
Her mouth closed on the rest of the question.
As if she hadn’t spoken, he squirted some soap into his hand and scrubbed her down.
Eventually the chill disappeared from his eyes, letting her breathe.
When he stroked up her right forearm, he stopped and turned her arm toward the light. The long white-pink scar ran from her elbow to the back of her hand. Another, smaller one was on her left arm. So ugly. All the same, the window glass had cut her arms instead of her face; she wouldn’t complain.
Gray-green eyes narrowed, and his brows rose slightly.
No. She tilted her head toward his bruises and cuts. If he didn’t have to answer, neither did she.
After an uncomfortable moment, he gave her a raised eyebrow of acknowledgment and continued washing. Accepting her reticence.
Her breath eased out. Lying to him, right here, right now, after what they’d shared would have been unbearable.
His silence was a balm after the intensity before. With surprisingly gentle hands, he washed her efficiently, not lingering over anything, and merely the touch of his callused fingers made heat sweep through her.
God, she’d gladly mess around again. What was wrong with her?
But, once finished, he set her outside the shower and handed her a towel. “Go to bed, babe.”
She stared at him, unable to think of what to say. Drops of water glinted in the light furring on his chest, trickled down the line of hair to his cock. Made her want to follow it with her tongue.
His eyes crinkled. “You’re definitely befuddled.” Leaning down, he gave her a light kiss, turned her, and swatted her ass to move her out of the room.
In the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder. He’d stepped back under the water to finish washing. What a strange man. Shaking her head, she donned a T-shirt and pair of panties. Should she wait for him?
Her wobbly legs answered the question by taking her to the bed. Her mama would be horrified at the discourtesy of not seeing a visitor to the door, but deVries was fully capable of letting himself out when he left.
She slid into her bed. The thousand-thread-count, Egyptian cotton sheets whispered sweetly against her sensitized skin as she sank down into the mattress.
A few drowsy minutes later, she watched deVries walk out. Beautifully naked. Holy God in heaven, he was ripped, from the hard curves of his biceps to the deep valleys carved between his pectorals. The line of black stitches above his left hip didn’t seem to affect him, whereas if her flesh had been slashed, she’d consider it an excellent idea to take a pain med, lounge around, and watch TV all day.
Bet the man had never lounged a day in his life.
When he walked past and into the living room, she sighed. He hadn’t said a word. Sure, he’d gotten what he wanted; even so, she’d thought he’d at least say good-bye.
To her surprise, he came back in, dumped his bag and case by the nightstand, and tossed his clothes on top.
“What are you doing?” she asked, sitting up in the bed.
He ignored her and went back out, returning a few minutes later with the rope restraints from the couch. He tossed them on the pile of clothes. “Almost forgot these. Might have scared your guests.”
She choked at the thought. Not that she’d ever invited anyone here—it wasn’t really her place, after all—but still. “Discovery could be bad. So thanks.”
After he looked around the room, he ran his finger over the silvery silk quilt and cocked an eyebrow. “Doesn’t seem like your style or color, babe.”
She shrugged. What could she say—it wasn’t.
The light from the living room cast shadows on his hard face as he stared down at her. She watched him. Why wasn’t he patting her on the ass and leaving? Everyone said the Enforcer was a fuck-’em and forget-’em sort of guy. To her surprise, he crawled under the covers with her.
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping. I’m wiped. Not safe to drive.”
“Oh.” Sleep with deVries? She swallowed hard. Before she could figure out how to say I’ll call you a taxi, he rolled her onto her right side and spooned behind her. Her bottom rubbed against his groin. His rock-hard arm over her waist pinned her down as he curved his left hand over her breast.
He wanted to cuddle? The Enforcer? “But—”
“Go to sleep, or you’ll spend the night gagged.”
Well. Yet, even as she searched for the answer to his obnoxious threat, her heart quickened. His gravelly voice alone could carbonate seawater—and when he exerted his will? She simply fizzed.
Unfortunately, all those hot, hot bubbles flowed straight to her pussy. She rubbed her thighs together, trying to still the throbbing. She wanted him again. Criminy, what was wrong with her?
His hand flattened between her breasts, and he snorted. “With a pulse like that, either you’re scared or you’re horny.” He slid his palm over her panties, ascertaining for himself exactly which it was. “Soaked.”
The touch of his firm fingers made her quiver. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. Don’t—”
“Shut it.” With pitiless hands, he tossed away the covers and flattened her onto her back. “Just as well. I didn’t get enough of a taste.”
“But—”
The warning in his narrowed eyes froze her vocal cords.
He stripped her panties off, baring her. Pushing her legs apart, he knelt between them. His gaze moved over her opened pussy…looking at her there.
As her cheeks flared with heat, she slid her hands over her mound to cover herself.
“You don’t wear underwear if you’re with me,” he growled. “And you don’t withhold something I want.” Ruthlessly he positioned her fingers to keep her labia open.
“What are you—”
“You put your hands down here, I use them.” He nudged her fingers outward, forcing her to hold her folds more widely apart. “Hold yourself open for me, and don’t move.”
“But—”
“And don’t speak.” He licked over her, his tongue stopping to wiggle right on top of her clit.
So wet. So hot. Her back arched as heat blossomed in her core.
He watched her with a slight smile. “Screaming is okay.”
Propped up on one elbow, sprawled between her legs, he lowered his head. His tongue worked her hard and fast, impossibly effective with her clit so totally exposed. With his free hand, he slid two fingers inside her, thrusting rhythmically—hard and fast.
Her pussy clamped down on him, and he laughed, closed his lips around her clit, and sucked.
Good thing he’d given her permission to scream.
Chapter Three
DeVries woke, lying still as he assessed his surroundings. Kitchen appliances hummed. Someone in the condo above had heavy feet. The woman tucked against his side breathed softly.
Normal sounds. Normal scents. Nothing burning. No stink of ordnance or gunpowder. No stench of fear or blood or sweat. Only the faint fragrance of a cinnamon candle. Laundered linens.
But the citrusy shower soap on Lindsey’s body and the scent of sex affected him like a female in heat must a wolf. He hardened. Jesus, again?
In the middle of the night, he’d realized she’d rolled away from him. He rarely slept with a woman and never fucking cuddled, but…for some reason, he’d tugged her back. When his arm had grazed over her small breasts, her nipples contracted to press into his skin. Still she hadn’t woken.
His cock damn well had. Swearing under his breath, he’d donned a condom, then used
And now he wanted her again. The girl definitely cranked his engine.
He looked down at her. Curled against his side, head on his shoulder, one leg over his thighs. Her cheeks and chin were reddened from his beard stubble, her pink lips swollen. She knew how to use her soft mouth. And she’d enjoyed sucking his dick, giving as generously as she received.
Like he’d figured, she was a sweetheart. A nice woman. Submissive. Gentle. Fun. The type of woman he envied his friends for having. Simon’s Rona was smart and organized and bighearted. She adored her kids and her husband; hell, she cared for an entire hospital.
Xavier’s Abby was a genius, terrifyingly literate, and a nurturer down to her bones.
No surprise this little Texan made up the third woman in their girl-gang.
Using one finger, he stroked over his bite mark on her shoulder. Felt like he’d branded her. DeVries was here—no trespassing.
Not that he had any intention of ever scening with her again. One night had been folly; two would be insanity.
But he hadn’t left yet, and he had an urge to have her one more time. A pity she’d be too sore to take him anally again. No. Although he didn’t mind hurting her for their mutual pleasure, turning her off anal sports would be a shame. He owed it to other ass-players not to screw it up for them.
Besides, he was in the mood for a basic missionary position.
He’d fuck her and leave right after. Best to keep it light. Simple. Especially with this little sweetie who’d lured him into spending the night. Give her a chance, and she’d get her hooks into him. A woman could be more dangerous than any snake-infested jungle.
So after donning a condom, he tipped her onto her back, ignoring her murmur of protest, and used the rope from last night to secure her wrists over her head.
She blinked sleepily at him, rousing sluggishly. Heavy sleeper, wasn’t she? In his business, her habit would get her dead. The thought of anyone hurting her sent an iron jolt of protectiveness through him. He hauled in a breath and kissed her lightly.
Her lips softened immediately, giving him what he wanted.
“Morning, baby.” Hooking his leg over her left ankle, using his other foot to push her right leg out, he opened her to his hand. “Very nice. You’re already getting wet.”
She flushed a deep pink, her legs trying to close, the rope sawing on the headboard at her thwarted effort to—to cover herself. When taken by surprise, she was a modest little thing. Be fun to keep working on her reaction until it went away.
No. One more fuck and I’m done.
He propped himself up on his elbow, deliberately taking a look. Moving her folds to one side. Lifting her clit hood. Chuckling as she flared redder.
And got wetter. The girl roused to his hand as quickly as any woman he’d taken, despite her embarrassment.
Her pussy was fucking beautiful. Puffy outer labia, slick inner. Clit starting to protrude. Using his legs to keep her open, he played for a while, enjoying her responsiveness. She was silky hot inside. Tight. Her cunt muscles tried to suck in his finger. Be fun to do some dildo play with her—how wide of one could she take before begging for mercy?
Her nipples weren’t a hot spot for her, but her little knot of nerves was pleasingly sensitive. A brush would make her tremble. A light pinch made her flinch, and a protracted one sent blood rushing to her cheeks and her legs trying to close. Oh yeah. What he could do with that bundle of nerves for fun.
Hell, why not? “Look at me, little girl.”
Her gaze came to him, biggest fucking brown eyes he’d ever seen. She knew she was defenseless; she wanted to be that way.
He liked her that way. His cock turned rock hard in agreement.
As he trapped her gaze, he captured her clit between thumb and fingers, squeezed, and held. Hearing her heels scraping on the sheet, feeling the trembling of her body, he drank in the gift of her surrender.
Seconds passed. Eyes holding hers, he released her.
As the blood surged back into her mistreated flesh, as she sucked in air, he topped her and sheathed his cock in to the hilt.
Damned if she didn’t fucking come…and keep coming as he hammered into her.
LINDSEY FELT USED. Abused. Taken. And she’d climaxed so hard her heart had left bruises on the inside of her ribs.
On top of her, deVries was thrusting, hitting deep, connected to her on the most intimate of levels. With his arms braced on each side of her shoulders, he lifted his hips to watch his shaft slide in and out of her. His smoke-green eyes glinted with satisfaction. “Put your legs around my waist.”
She brought her knees up, letting him drive deeper.
With the next stroke, he ground his pelvis against her poor mistreated clit, deliberately making her hurt.
And somehow the pain danced along her nerve endings, sparking off desire again. Her vagina tightened around him.
His rare grin flashed at her. “Damn, girl, you’re a treat.”
If he thought she’d get off a second time, he was sadly mistaken. She wasn’t even close.
“Got toys in your nightstand?”
“Wh-what?” He did not ask that. No way.
“Damn straight, you do.” He reached a long arm out, yanked open the drawer, and stilled as his fingers undoubtedly found her stash. “Like a variety, do you?” Rocking his hips against her in gentle thrusts, he fumbled in her drawer, picking up one vibrator after another, finally settling on the one with the forked design.
Holy shit, of all the ones to pick. She thought of it as a sadistic mini-tuning fork. Even worse, it had the most intense vibrations, and she was already sore. “No, not that. It’s too much.”
His head dipped, and he kissed her, long and slow, before whispering against her lips, “I know.”
In a smooth movement, he released her wrists from the ropes, withdrew, and stood at the foot of the bed, leaving her quivering. A hard yank downward positioned her with her butt on the mattress edge.
As her right leg dangled off the bed, he cradled her left knee in his elbow, and he thrust back inside her. The position let him go deep, penetrating her so fully she wiggled in halfhearted protest. Making him smile.
He reached to one side, and she heard a low hum. A second later, he laid the vibrator on her mound, thankfully high, and secured it there with his palm.
It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, but the distant vibrations kept ramping up her arousal until she was angling her hips to press his hand firmly onto the device.
“Want more?”
“God.” She couldn’t possibly come again, and yet the erotic sensation shivered over her skin, settling like a heavy weight in her pelvis.
“Thought so,” he murmured. After moving the vibe down until the ends barely bracketed her clit, he drove into her hard. Mercilessly. Over and over.
The vibrator buzzed on her even as his cock pounded from inside. She tightened, tightened.
“Lindsey,” he growled.
She raised heavy lids, seeing his intent face.
“Come for me now.” He moved the toy so the brutal vibrations hit her clit fully on both sides. His hips rotated, mercilessly grinding into new places inside her.
Her breathing stopped as every…single…nerve in her whole body fired simultaneously. A massive outburst of sensation broke over her, twirling her in pleasure, tumbling her away.
She gasped right before another hit. And another. One tornado after another.
Little by little, the convulsions eased. When she managed to pry her eyelids open, he was staring at her, his gaze intimate. Perceptive.
“Nice.” As she shuddered under him, he set the vibrator aside, put an elbow under her other knee so her legs were lifted into the air. He drew out and plunged deep, pumping fast and long,
Risking a reprimand, she ran her hands over his shoulders, the velvet skin stretched tight over bunched muscles, a tactile symphony of sex.
With a measured breath, he eased his cock in and out, like a sweet farewell. His lips curved as her vagina clenched around him in tiny after-tremors before he pulled out. “You’re a treat, all right,” he rasped.
She wouldn’t be calling him a treat—he was more like the iceberg that sank the Titanic.
After giving her a brief hard kiss, he headed for the bathroom, and she managed to turn her head to watch. The man was simply gorgeous. He always wore a shirt at the club; naked, his shoulders seemed even broader. The line down his spine to his ass was bounded by muscle, and his butt was world-class. He was even tanned, despite the overcast San Francisco skies.
With a frown, she realized white lines of scars marred his smooth skin. She’d felt the tiny ridges while they were making love. And he had a long, stitched-up gash. Jeez, she didn’t even know what he did in real life. Maybe a cop? Her stomach clenched at the thought.
Hearing the shower come on, she considered joining him for one more wonderful chance to watch water flow down the valleys created by his bunching muscles. To run her fingers over his tight, tanned skin. She giggled as she rolled out of bed. She sure couldn’t see him in a tanning salon. He didn’t seem to have an ounce of self-consciousness or conceit.
Not like me. She donned the cheap terrycloth robe with the fraying hem. A secondhand purchase. Not pretty. Not sexy. But hey, it was what she had.
Her mouth turned down. Before she’d married Miguel, she’d felt pretty. Before she’d married Victor, she’d felt sexy. Neither feeling had lasted very far into either marriage. Experience had taught her a guy would say anything and act any way to get what he wanted. Intellectually she knew she was pretty enough; unfortunately, her subconscious still heeded Victor’s and Miguel’s opinions.