“Little Rose, you’re killin’ me,” he ground out through clenched teeth. Hell, if she kept this up, he’d lose his load any moment now.
“Hmmm,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t want to do that. Why don’t you turn around and I’ll see if I can’t revive you instead?”
“Witch,” he muttered, but did as she requested.
He raised his hands to grasp her hair, but she was gone. He looked down at the top of her slick, red head. She was so beautifully exquisite. His balls turned into hard rocks as her mouth descended on the tip of his cock. It took all of his self-control not to face-fuck her right then, but he wanted to give her the illusion of control—let her pleasure him at her own pace. But shit, if she continued to torture his cock with those sweet little licks he didn’t know how long he’d last. Nathan heard her sigh then finally,
finally,
felt her hot mouth encompass his girth. Her lips tightened around him and she sucked deeply, drawing him down her throat. She reached around and cradled his buttocks, one soapy finger sliding up and down his ass crack. He sucked in his breath sharply as she slowly inserted one finger into his anus.
Jesus!
He fought for control. If she kept this up, he’d climax faster than a teenager on his first date.
He looked down at Rose to find her face tipped back, gaze on him.
“You keep that up and I’ll shoot right down your throat,” he warned.
Keeping her bottom lip on the head of his penis, she smiled, her eyes bright emeralds. “Please, my Lord. Feed me,” she begged.
She plunged her finger deeper into his anus, putting pressure against his prostate. Nathan grabbed her wet head and pushed her mouth down his shaft. If that’s what she wanted, he’d be more than happy to oblige. Fuck, but she felt good. So very good. Nathan rocked his hips faster and felt the pressure build. Glancing down, he saw her looking at him, her eyes begging him to spill his seed. He gave one more powerful thrust, her greedy mouth sucking for more. He cried out, exploding, giving her the food she craved. Not once did she gag or pull back. Not once did she whimper. Her clever little tongue wrapped around his shaft and licked every drop from the tip of his cock.
He leant back against the shower wall and reached down to help her to her feet, but she resisted. Instead, she rubbed her cheek along his thigh, massaging his legs.
“Oh, Nathan. I love you,” she murmured, kissing each of his balls in turn. “You make me so happy. I’ve never felt this complete, this much of a woman.”
Nathan’s heart melted. What the hell he had done to deserve this woman and her love, he had no idea, but he was grateful. This time, she didn’t resist him as he held her arms and lifted her to her feet. He held her face in his hands and kissed her gently, so very gently.
“And I, little Rose, love you. I swear to you, I will always protect you and care for you. I’m not in this for the short term, baby. I plan to stay around for a long, long time.”
Chapter Seven
Mystery
—
A semi-sweet r
osé
blended perfectly to produce an unusual combination of raspberry and citrus. Delightful with grilled chicken salad.
Nathan sat in the apartment over Vince’s bar. Since Joe and Vince had married, the small shotgun apartment had remained empty. After he had attained his PI licence, Nathan had rented the apartment for his office. The small space afforded him a bedroom and enough room for a computer, fax machine, file cabinets and assorted other equipment. Vince rented it to him for a very reasonable cost with the expectation of extra help in the bar when needed. Nathan didn’t mind. He rather liked helping out at the bar, meeting people, hanging out with Joe and Vince. Besides, during the harsh St. Louis winters, this arrangement saved him from driving up and down icy hills, which the city rarely salted. He also liked to keep his investigative work separate from his private life as much as possible and having an office in his own home would have made that impossible. Between his investments and his PI work, Nathan had been able to quit working security at the boating casino. He wasn’t obscenely wealthy, but he also wasn’t hurting for money.
Nathan stared at the notes he had just taken during the phone call to Miller and Miller, the law firm which represented Charles Brodemeyer, the man claiming to be Rose’s father. Apparently, the man had enjoyed a one-night stand with Melinda Hester during a wild Hallowe’en party at Southern Illinois University at Carbondale.
Figures.
SIUC used to be known as a party school until about five years ago when the authorities had cracked down on under-aged drinking and public nudity. Brodemeyer and Melinda had met at a fraternity party and got along immediately. Mr Brodemeyer had attempted to contact Rose’s mother after the event through a mutual friend but, after a month or two, had lost interest when he’d received no word from her. He seemed to have disappeared for about a year, then had re-enroled at the university, graduated with an agricultural degree and had gone on to earn a Master of Business Administration two years later. About five years ago, he’d purchased a run-down winery in Cobden and was working to turn a profit, but with the economy down and the recent drought, the winery wasn’t doing as well as could be expected.
On the personal side, Charles Brodemeyer had married shortly after receiving his MBA and had one son. His wife had passed away a few years previously after losing her battle with breast cancer. The mutual friend from college who had originally introduced him to Melinda Hester had told him of Melinda’s death and mentioned the possibility of a daughter. Apparently, Brodemeyer had had no idea of Rose’s existence up to that point and was anxious to make her acquaintance.
Nathan rubbed a hand over his face and smooth head. From what he could tell, the guy was legit. While his winery wasn’t doing great, it was holding its own. Brodemeyer paid his taxes on time, had few outstanding bills, was a member of the local chamber of commerce and had even been an Eagle Scout. Nathan had spent the last six hours trying to dig up some dirt on this guy and so far, there just wasn’t any dirt to be found. Still, something tickled the back of his brain and he thought it best to proceed with caution. Maybe he and Rose should take a little trip down to Southern Illinois for a day or so and scout out the terrain. For that matter, maybe he could talk Joe and Vince into coming down with them under the pretence of checking out new wines for What’s Your Pleasure. That way, they could ask questions about the winery and its owner without arousing suspicion.
* * * *
“Next week?” Vince asked as he wiped down a table. “Yeah. I think we can do that. Mike and the new bartender, Joyce, can handle the place for a few days. And my mom would love the chance to spoil Cain.”
Nathan grinned. He had no doubt Mrs Milo would spoil seven-year-old Cain, Joe and Vince’s adopted son. If any woman was meant to be a doting grandmother, she was certainly the one.
“Besides,” Vince continued, “maybe a little trip will distract Joe. I love the woman, but Christ, she’s making me crazy.”
Nathan laughed. “She’s been doin’ that since the minute she walked into this bar lookin’ for a job, buddy. What makes now so different?”
“Remember her talking about a cousin who lives over in England?”
“Yeah. Isn’t she a 24/7 submissive or something?” Nathan asked, intrigued.
“That’s the one. Alicia. She’s a personal chef—actually taught Joe to make an incredible chicken salad—and married her Dominant, Maverick Devonshire, about a year or so ago. Far as I know, they live the lifestyle totally. Joe told me about how Alicia greets her husband whenever he demands, and let me just say, it’s brilliant.
“Anyway, she’s coming to visit in a few weeks and Joe is going nuts cleaning the house and other things only women seem to know or care about. She’s redecorated the guest room, stocked up on some English foo-foo tea, bought a damned ceramic tea pot…all kinds of shit,” Vince rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Hell, I had to give her a good, old-fashioned over-the-knee spanking last night just to calm her down.”
“And that was one hell of a hardship, wasn’t it?” Nathan quipped back.
Vince didn’t bother answering the question—he just grinned and sipped his beer.
“Devonshire?” Nathan pondered. “Isn’t there a photographer by that name?”
Vince nodded. “Same guy. He’s going to try to come as well, but apparently he’s finishing some big shoot and he’s not sure he can get away. I kind of hope he does. It would be interesting to talk to a guy who has a totally submissive wife.”
Nathan nodded in agreement.
A totally submissive wife.
Now that was something to consider. He rather liked Rose’s independence and the idea of someone serving him night and day kind of made his skin crawl, but he’d been doing some research into domestic discipline and felt sure Rose would be curious as well. She’d have the structure she needed but they could both have freedom and autonomy. Hell, she was the one who had insisted on that submissive contract they’d worked out but he had to admit he wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. He had no wish to dampen her fire in any way. Still, she’d said that after her topsy-turvy childhood she wanted the assurance that a written contract gave her, but wasn’t ready for marriage yet. Truth be told, neither was he.
She’d lived most of her life always wondering whether or not her mother would be home, drunk, drugged or with a male client. Foster care wasn’t much better. The rules had changed with every move she had to make. When she turned sixteen, she’d finally landed in a good home and become friends with Joe. Nonetheless, by the time she’d got an apartment with three other girls at the age of eighteen, she’d already moved a total of twenty times in her life.
She was ready for stability but wasn’t quite willing to trust anyone else to provide that for her yet. Nathan, on the other hand, had no doubt in his mind that that he could provide whatever little Rose needed. God, his heart just broke every time he thought about her working so hard to provide for herself. When he thought about her life before him, his blood boiled with rage. What the hell kind of mother put her child at such risk? All he wanted to do was hold her, keep her safe, love her. He just had to figure out how to convince her of that. Maybe domestic discipline could be a start.
From what he’d learned, it consisted mainly of a list of rules or expectations, a specific set of punishments, forgiveness and, most importantly, love and structure. Couldn’t say he was thrilled with the idea of punishing Rose, but she certainly responded well to consequences. Maybe the word just reminded him a little too much of his Catholic grade school years. Yep, he’d definitely have to learn more about it, but right now, he had other arrangements to make.
Chapter Eight
White Chambourcin
—
A soft, rose-coloured, semi-sweet wine with the blended flavours of raspberry and plum and a slight scent of rosemary.
Rose finished disinfecting her bathroom and was ready to move on to the living room. She inhaled the spicy scent of rosemary and smiled. She preferred making her own cleaners out of natural ingredients like the strong infusion of rosemary she was currently using. The rosemary acted as a disinfectant and smelt absolutely wonderful, slightly reminiscent of lavender. Besides, its aroma helped to relieve congestion and improve memory, all bonuses in Rose’s mind. Perhaps most important, natural scents calmed her mind and relaxed her body.
Since Nathan had agreed to make contact with Miller and Miller, Rose had been anxious but not overly concerned. She had grown to trust Nathan implicitly—no small feat considering her background. Rose couldn’t help but wonder about her father. What kind of a man would leave a woman and his own child to live in squalor? Then again, perhaps she was judging him too harshly. If, as the lawyers claimed, he had just recently found out about her existence, then was he really to blame? Why wouldn’t her mother have told him about her? At this point, did blame really matter? Maybe Nathan was right. Maybe the guy just wanted to get to know his own blood. Melinda smiled, thinking about Nathan. He was such a strong man, both physically and emotionally. She felt lucky to have him in her life and unabashedly leaned on his strength.
“Women are weak, Rose. Weak. We need men in our lives and a stupid, mean-hearted one is better than none at all. Hell, I’ve never been lucky enough to snag a good man—don’t think you ever will either. We’re just not the ‘happy homemaker’ type of women who attract a Ward as a husband. We’re more like Blanche DuBois, who ‘always depended upon the kindness of strangers’. Don’t worry though, Rose. You’re pretty. You may not find a good man, but you’ll never want for a man. Shit, girl. You’ll probably have a whole string of them if you can keep your figure and don’t let any of them mark your face. I know you’re young still, but in a few years—maybe when you’re fourteen or fifteen—we can start looking and find you a nice sugar daddy of your own. You just got to resign yourself to your future and stop letting your head float in the clouds. Love is a pipe dream and good men are as much of a fantasy as Santa Claus.”
Rose shook her head, trying to get her mother’s words out of her mind.
You were wrong, Mama. I did find a good man. And I don’t want any other.
Rose sank down onto her couch, the images of her tidy home melding into memories of a dirty little apartment.
“But, Mama, I hate make-up. It feels all greasy and it makes me look funny. Why do I have to wear it?”