What She's Looking For (25 page)

He’d make her show him her marks
tomorrow, and she’d bend for him, knowing he’d see that her pussy was already
wet for him, wet at the thought of how sore he’d made her ass. He knew she’d
look forward to it again, watching the marks fade day by day, anticipating when
they’d be renewed in another storm of pain and lust and submission. He knew she
needed that like she needed to breathe — it was an integral part of her
make-up. Parker was the night to her day, the darkness to her light. She needed
to feel that pain, that surrender, as much as he needed to give her that pain,
as much as he needed to bend her to his will.

None of it would make any sense to
an outsider, but to Parker and this singular woman, subject only to him, the
one-way nature of their relationship was as perfect as the clear morning sun.
It didn’t need to make sense to anyone else, this secret world that only they
shared.

Driving into her even more
urgently, she cried out, begging him, pleading for him to take her harder, to
make it hurt. He obliged her, her groans as he sounded the deepest depths of
her cunt, music to his ears. He held out as long as he could, but eventually
the strength of his desire could not be denied, the velvet clutch of her pussy
too much to resist.

“Ashley, fuck! You’re
mine
.
You’ll never—” he grit his teeth, his hands spanking her burning bottom to the
music of her pained cries, fingers clasping her hips in a brutal grip, the
boiling pleasure from behind his testicles overwhelming him “—leave me … again.”

Then he went over, his seed pouring
forth, and never before had he felt more like a conqueror, like a lost and
lonely hunter who’d finally brought down that most elusive of prey.

Love.

Crouching over her, his breath
coming hard, he rested, enjoying the tactile pleasure of skin on skin, feeling
her trembling like a low current passing through her body. He liked that she
stayed quiet, still, waiting for him to give her leave. They’d never spoken of
that specifically, but somehow she just knew, could sense that he expected it,
enjoyed it as a subtle signal of her subjugation, of her obedience.

Her panting as he slipped from her
sensitized pussy made him smile and he pressed little kisses to the crown of
her head, inhaling the fragrance of her shampoo, the clean scent of her sweat. “You’re
a good girl.”

She looked back at him, her eyes
tear bright, her dark brows knit together, lips trembling. “Parker, can I—”

“Just lay there a minute,” he said
with a grin, clasping her nape in his hand. “I want to clean you up myself.
Don’t move.”

“Sir, please. I don’t—” her eyes
met his, and she wiped a tear from her cheek, smiling “—I don’t want to clean
it up. I want you. Part of you inside me. Please leave it.”

Then he reached out for her, and
Ashley scrambled into his arms, her breasts swinging as she moved. He sat back
on the couch, their naked bodies entwined, and looked out the picture window at
the silent winter landscape, its sparse, cold beauty encouraging their silence.

Parker’s thoughts drifted as he
stroked the hair away from her sweaty temple, her head laid against his chest.
His hand cupped the weight of one of Ashley’s heavy breasts, the nipple almost
impossibly hard against his fingers. He imagined what her breasts would look
like when she was swollen with their baby, how they’d leak with her milk as he
fucked her, even late into the pregnancy. He knew she’d be one of those women
who glowed when pregnant, would be enhanced by the wonder and excitement of
growing that new life within her belly.

Calm down, Park. You’re getting
way the fuck ahead of yourself here. Where is this coming from?

But part of him knew. It really
would be that way, someday — if he could make it work. If she could accept him
for who he was, what he’d become. Then he felt her shift against his body, and
he glanced down to see her staring up at him.

“I can’t move in with you, Parker.”

He frowned at her, then looked out
that window again.

“Not yet, anyway. This thing with
Terry … it has to get resolved. Then, maybe ….” She pressed a kiss to his
chest, the sensation sending a frisson straight to his cock, making it stir
against her ass.

“He’s not getting within a mile of
you, my dear.” Parker squeezed her tighter. “If he does, if he shows up here … he’s
going to be in a world of hurt.”

“He’s a cop, Parker.”

So that was it, then. He’d wondered
why she seemed hung up on him still. A cop.

He grinned at her. “Cops don’t
matter to me.”

Ashley’s eyebrow raised. “Above the
law, Sir?”

“Something like that.” Parker
kissed her hair against her temple, and squeezed her breast firmly. “Take care
that mouth of yours doesn’t get that sore ass in any more trouble.”

She muffled playful grumbles
against his chest and he smiled again at her mood, light and playful, so unlike
what she’d been the last few months.

“Parker, can I ask you something?”

“No, I haven’t read 50 Shades and I
never will.”

Ashley giggled against his chest,
tweaking one of his nipples. He smacked her breast playfully, then took up her
nipple, rolling it between finger and thumb.

She stilled immediately, responding
to the subtle admonition in the gesture. “Seriously, will you tell me what it
is that you do? You aren’t a serial killer are you? ‘Cause that might put a
serious crimp in the idea of moving in.”

He chuckled, stroking the satin
flesh of her naked thigh. “Nope, no bodies in the trunk. Sorry to disappoint
you.”

“Thank god,” she whispered. “Though
it would be just like a serial killer to lull me into a false sense of security—”

“Check.”

“—and charm my pants off.”

“Check, number two.” He waggled an
eyebrow at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He caught it with his
fingers, squeezing it before letting it go. “I’ve got you right where I want
you.”

Ashley’s body stirred against him,
the pleasing weight of her breasts pressed to him, her murmur almost a feline
purr. “Yes, you sure do, big scary Sir.”

His hand pressed to her thigh,
stilling her. “Watch it, bad girl. If I get hard again, it might not be that
pussy that gets fucked next.”

Peering up at him, her mischievous
grin made him want to devour her. “I thought it was Drake who likes asses?”

“He’s not the only one who likes
asses. Keep it up and you’re going to find out the hard way.”

She burrowed her face against his
chest again, groaning. “Okay, okay. But answer me one thing, Mr. Mysterious.”

“Shoot.” He was liking this side of
her. Her happiness was contagious, and it filled him like sunshine lighting a
dark room.

“What’s behind the locked door in
your hallway?”

Not prepared for that question, he
tipped her up, until she sat upright on his lap. Her head twisted back, her
lips in a surprised O, her brow furrowed. “I’m — I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s okay, Ashley.” It was
probably time anyway. “Do you really want to know?”

She nodded, her jaw firming, her
hands reaching for one of his.

“Then take that red little ass of
yours back to the bedroom and look in the bottom drawer of the dresser.”

Her eyebrows raised. “The bottom …
drawer?”

Parker had expressly forbidden her
from ever opening that drawer, but never told her why.

“Yes, I’m going to pour us some
coffee. When I come back out here, I want you to bring back what you find in
that drawer.”

Chapter Twenty

“U
m, so what’s the occasion?” Ashley
tipped her head, peeking up at Parker. He stood with his arms crossed, the
muscles of his forearms in stark relief. So much power there, the kind that
made her want to hit her knees and do whatever she was told. She’d once been
repulsed by such thoughts, thinking they were a betrayal of her sex. Now she
simply enjoyed them for what they were.

An acknowledgment of the woman she
was.

Parker lifted a finger from his
arm. “Put it on. All of it.”

There was more chain there than she
knew what the hell to do with, but somehow she’d managed. A link attached here,
a belt tightened there, and soon enough she was weighed down with so much steel
she doubted she could even break into a trot.

Parker cinched the waist belt a
notch tighter, making her gasp. Then with a glint in his eye he watched her
face as he cinched it one notch more.

The leather belt, a heavy, broad
length of polished rawhide, at first felt like one of those goofy waist belts power
lifters use — the ones that looked like they were there to simply hold in their
guts. She snorted to herself at that — this one had a decidedly
different
purpose.

A heavy brushed silver ring was
embedded in the front of it, through which two stout chains ran. The chains terminated
at wrist cuffs at the top and thick ankle cuffs at the bottom.

“Try to raise your arms.”

She frowned at him.

“Go on. Do it.”

The chains grew taut before she
could raise her hands above the level of her navel. If she hoped to walk she
effectively had to keep her hands clasped together in front of the belt, and
even then it didn’t afford her much slack.

His warm smile, an expression of
pure pleasure, shouldn’t have sent her heart beating and her nipples standing.
But it did.

“Here.” He stepped back around the
kitchen door a moment, returning with a length of black leather swinging from
his hand. “You need this too.”

The collar was thicker than she’d
imagined most of them being, forcing her to keep her chin raised a bit. The
leather felt snug around her neck, almost too snug, its pressure on her
windpipe insistent, but tolerable. When he’d affixed it, he stood back from
her, looking down upon her flushing face, his eyes bright with lust. “There,
that’s better don’t you think, girl?”

She glanced down to his groin to
see his cock already standing once more, the sight making her mouth water. It
had been too long since she’d had him in her mouth, the thought of tasting her
own essence on his skin equal parts mortifying and arousing.

“Come on, bad girl.” Parker hooked
a finger through the ring of her belt, and chucked her under a breast with a
wink.

He took a step, then turned back to
her, eyebrows lifted. “Almost forgot. Wait here.”

She stuck her tongue out at him,
scrunching her face into a dour frown.

Parker sauntered down the hall,
wagging his finger at her, looking back over his shoulder. “Watch it.”

Jiggling the chain against the
central ring, she tried not to think about how helpless she really was now. It
wasn’t the first time he’d bound her, but it
was
the first time he’d had
her chained up like a common criminal awaiting arraignment. All that was
missing was the orange jumpsuit with the block letters “OFFENDER” emblazoned
across the back. Then again, the idea of being Parker’s prisoner wasn’t
exactly
horrifying to her.

Parker’s form appeared before her,
and he crouched down, his fingers tugging on one of her ankle cuffs. As he
bent, she took in the broad, muscled expanse of his naked upper back, noting
for the first time the pattern of pale marks clustered below one of his
shoulder blades.

“Where did you get those, Sir?”

He stilled for a moment, but didn’t
answer, instead continuing the tugging on one ankle cuff and then the other.
Then he’d finished, standing and gazing down at her, placing a caressing palm
against her cheek. She kissed the heel of his hand, loving the warmth of his
flesh, the gentleness of his touch.

“All ready?”

Ashley nodded, not really sure what
she was agreeing to. If she’d get a chance to figure out the cipher of Parker,
she thought she’d be willing to do nearly anything. Yes, mystery was alluring,
but if she was going to put herself in his hands, live out her darkest
fantasies under his rule, then she’d be damned if she’d do it before she knew
who the fuck this guy really was!

Trying to follow him, she nearly
toppled over, peering down at feet that didn’t seem to want to move. Then she
saw it, her mouth dropping open.

A hobble.

He’d affixed a stout leather strap
from cuff to cuff, linking her ankles together with less than a foot of play
between them.

“Why?” She peered up under her
eyelashes, feeling the heat at her cheeks.

Parker shrugged. “I like it that
way. Wouldn’t want you running off on me.” He winked at her, stepping closer
and curling his finger through the ring at her belt once more. “Besides, that
hobble will make those tits of yours bounce as you walk. What’s not to like
about that?”

Leading her down the hallway with
just his finger, she felt the truth of his words, the embarrassing sway of her
breasts proving him prescient. Bound as she was, she couldn’t stay their
wobbling with anything other than trying to contain them by squeezing together
her upper arms. It was mostly futile though, and she had little doubt he
enjoyed her discomfiture.

He stopped at the locked door in
the hallway. The saliva in Ashley’s mouth dried, and she watched his fingers
move in what seemed to be slow motion.

Calm down, idiot. He’s probably
got some sort of dungeon back there. Maybe just a spanking bench or something.
Chillax.

The heavy bolt popped from the
lock, and he yanked it out of the steel hasp, swinging it clear, the door
opening into darkness. A staircase led down. The air felt close, but she wasn’t
assailed with the strong smell of leather like she’d expected, nor did she find
herself noting the scent of candles waiting to drip their molten pain upon her
cringing flesh.

She looked back at him. “How am I
going down those with this thing hobbling my feet?”

“You’ll need to figure that out,
won’t you?”

There wasn’t enough length in the
hobble to let her lower her feet far enough, which left one option.

“Can you at lease hold my arm?” She
peered up at him, the blushing furious on her face. “Please?”

“With pleasure.” His hand wrapped
around her bare upper arm. “Shall we?”

She had to jump down each
individual step, the wood creaking with each new riser. Her breasts bounded
upon her chest, and though she didn’t think Parker could really see them swing,
she still blushed scarlet. Sometimes curiosity didn’t kill the cat – but
mortification wasn’t much better.

Finally they reached the bottom of
the stairs, in near pitch black, the air noticeably cooler on her bare skin.

“There, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Parker
flicked the light on, and inside she finally glimpsed that forbidden room that
had so intrigued her from day one.

She frowned, and looked up at
Parker. “Seriously?”

It was an office. A simple,
somewhat unkempt one, but an office nonetheless.

With a nod, he chuckled, raising
his hand. “Go on in. Have a look — but don’t touch anything.”

Shuffling in as fast as her chains
allowed, she took in what she could, trying not to be obvious in her prying.
What she really wanted was a few hours to pore through all the papers and
journals stacked haphazardly on the shelves, the large, darkened monitor calling
to her inner sleuth.

More like Snoopy McSnooperson.

“Kneel there, girl.” Parker’s long
finger pointed to a worn leather ottoman set off to one side of the desk.

“Kneel?”

“Did you suddenly decide you don’t
want to obey instructions?” He took hold of a fistful of her hair, a dark cloud
passing across his features. “Do what you’re told, or should I have you bend
over it instead?”

Ashley gulped, feeling her buttocks
tingle. As sore as they still were, she had no intention of doing anything for
the next
year
or so that would get her ass spanked. No fucking way.

“Sorry, Sir.” She dropped her gaze
and tried to put one knee on the leather. The hobble prevented it though, and,
with Parker’s fist still clenched in her locks, he simply bade her place her
knees on the edge and scoot herself onto it, the wild swinging of her breasts embarrassing
her anew. With a quick shake of her head he released her hair and she dropped
her eyes, his displeasure with her somehow even worse than the throb of her
well-whipped bottom.

He sat in his chair and turned on
the monitor, the tap of fingers at the keys causing her to peek at him through
the fringe of her hair. Then she saw it.

The picture.

Dropping her gaze again, afraid he
might see her watching him, she thought of who it might be. Chancing a look
again at the picture atop the credenza of his desk, she got a better look. A
beautiful woman, hair as dark as her eyes, a look of wistfulness in their
depths. She’d never seen the woman before.

A former girlfriend? A current
girlfriend? She gulped down bile at the possibility. A
wife
?

Her chains jingled as her hands
yanked at her bonds, and he turned to her, his hand raising her chin. “What is
it? I know you’ve got questions, so you might as well spill it.”

“Why this?” She pulled at the chains
once more, peevishly. Even though being bound for him made her pussy drip, she
wasn’t about to make it that easy for him. The last thing she needed to do was
to encourage him to truss her up like a Thanksgiving turkey whenever the mood
struck him.

Isn’t that the point of all
this? You want him to do whatever he wants to you, whenever he wants. Don’t
you?

Parker sat back in his chair,
looking at her down his nose, his eyes narrowed. “This space is for me only. I
let you in here because I knew your curiosity was killing you. But the price
for admission, is your freedom. You’ll never have a free moment in this room,
Ashley. This room and one other.”

Her eyes snapped up to his. “What
other?”

Parker’s smile made the lines
around his eyes deepen. “We’ll get to that later. What else, nosy girl?”

Her cheeks heated at his little
dig, and she stuck her chin out in defiance. She knew she was doing nothing
wrong. She was just … curious.

Who the fuck is she?

Before she could catch herself, her
gaze moved beyond Parker, peering over his shoulder. His head twitched, his
eyes following her gaze. “Ah, I wondered. You’re quicker than I gave you credit
for.”

“Who is she?” Ashley’s voice was
quieter than she intended, an almost plaintive sound in it that set her teeth
on edge.

Don’t be such a little girl.

Parker’s eyes grew so cold, Ashley
swallowed down a lump in her throat. For a long moment he stared at her, that
calculating, rigid emptiness she’d seen steel into his gaze every once in a
while back in full force now. It frightened her — there was no point in kidding
herself about it. That cold, clinical calculation she saw there bespoke nothing
of compassion, or pity, or kindness. But there was something else there, just
beyond the edge of her perception, another partially submerged note in the
sudden flintiness of his gaze.

Then as quick as it appeared, it
fled, and he looked away, a weariness plain in his face as he frowned, his
hands working in his lap. “Her name’s Maria.”

“Maria?” Ashley wanted to touch
him, for the pain in his voice was as raw as an open wound. “Who is she?”

“I don’t want to talk about her
right now, Ashley.” He slumped forward, resting his arms on his desk, tapping
at more keys again.

“Is she a girlfriend?” She inhaled
deeply, gathering herself. “If you have someone else, I need to know that.”

Parker’s eyes caught hers, and for
a moment she thought it would end right there. Then a quirk of his lips shocked
her heart into beating again. “It would make it easy for you to run again,
wouldn’t it? A clean, easy excuse.” He lowered his voice. “No Ashley, my only
girl is you. You’re enough for
two
men.”

She smiled at him then, joy and
relief flooding through her. Of course he wouldn’t, but then …”Will you tell me
about her?”

“No.”

“W — why not?”

Parker swiveled in his chair,
facing Ashley. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Of course. I want to know
everything about you!”

He was silent a moment, his gaze
sliding to that picture. “She’s someone I know, a wonderful, kind woman.
Someone who I brought terrible pain to.”

“Parker—”

The hard set of his jaw quelled
her. “When I was discharged, I was contacted by an agency. Another part of the
government. They had interest in my particular … skillset.”

Ashley willed herself to keep
quiet. Finally, she was getting somewhere!

“They made me an offer. I was
young, had no ties to anyone, no reason to say no. Now, I wish every day that I
had turned them down.” He turned off the monitor with a quick, precise stab of
his finger. He turned to her. “That agency was the DEA.”

“Oh.” She really wasn’t sure what
to expect, but that didn’t seem so bad to her. Ex military, young guy. It made
sense to her. Considering what he’d seemed to be hinting at earlier, it was
well, not what she’d pictured. Pleasantly so.

“They had me running an interdiction
team in Latin and South America – Columbia mostly, especially along the border
with Venezuela. Black ops. I don’t exist on their books, and they would
certainly disavow any knowledge of me if asked — but they pay me nonetheless.
Even the DEA needs people who can clean up a mess, who can take on the truly
dirty jobs. That was me, I guess. One of the locals who helped me, and
eventually became part of my team, was a man named Jorge.”