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  Chapter Eight

  After a quick shower, she had slipped on a camisole and waited. When it became clear that Rushe was in no hurry to return Flick tried to read, then she tried to watch TV, but nothing held her interest. For a long while, she stared out across the city as though she could will Rushe to arrive with sheer emotion.

  At two AM she went to bed but by two thirty she was on her feet again. Anger had become agony; the last time she and Rushe had been apart for this long Flick had feared him dead, and that old anxiety met this moment.

  Flick was drinking water at the kitchen sink a few minutes after three when she heard a key in the lock. The scrap of satin that she wore offered no heat, but the temperature wasn’t what made her shiver.

  She cast the highball glass aside and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Rushing around the kitchen counter, the cold water that Flick had just consumed flooded to her fingers and toes, splintering them with ice.

  The door slammed, and she stopped. Rushe dumped something, then with three daunting footfalls he was there, fifteen feet from her, in the unlit apartment.

  She should have put something on her feet, because in sharing this open space with his tall, broad form she felt puny. All the fireworks of emotions she’d endured tonight struck her dumb, leaving her unsure where to start, or what to say.

  Rushe didn’t speak either. He shrugged his shoulders back to free himself of his leather jacket then tossed it in the direction of the door, all the while observing her, scrutinising her figure that he knew so well.

  ‘Take it off.’ His words rumbled through the walls of the apartment, vibrating her every atom.

  Flick had things to say, things to ask, but this wasn’t a Rushe to be reasoned with, and right now the power of speech had vacated her. Taking her hands to her shoulders, Flick trailed the fine spaghetti straps of her camisole off and let the pale fabric shimmer away from her body.

  He looked at every inch of her, slowly; his eyes travelled across her figure then settled on her crotch.

  ‘Turn around.’

  Flick did as she was told. His words were rough, but they skimmed over her, cool and refreshing on a body filled with searing sand. Already her breasts ached, her core was swelling, and she longed to be reminded of the power he held, the protection he enveloped her in.

  ‘Bend over the table.’

  The dining table was solid oak and heavy, with four place settings, two at each side, leaving the top and bottom clear.

  Placing her hands shoulder width apart Flick bent over as instructed, but Rushe wasn’t happy. His heavy boots stamped toward her, and he kicked her feet further apart. Then without giving her any warning, he reached over her to grab her arms, locking her wrists in one hand at her lower back. Rushe’s other hand landed between her shoulder blades with a weight that pressed her face to the table.

  ‘You’ve been naughty, Little Kitten,’ he growled. ‘Did you think you’d get away with screwing around on me?’

  ‘I didn—‘

  ‘Ah,’ he said, spanking her rear while still keeping her wrists restrained. ‘You’re my whore. You don’t screw around on me. Did your pussy forget who feeds it? Is it hungry, Kitten? You fucking skank, this body belongs to me! You’re for my pleasure alone!’ He spanked her again, harder, then clenched her butt cheek in his hand, sending a burning ache throbbing through her body as pleasure shimmered to her apex.

  ‘I’m gonna fuck you, Kitten, I’m gonna fuck your pussy ‘til my spunk’s dripping out of you. I’m gonna fill you full, fuck your mouth ‘til your belly’s got no room for more, you hear me? Speak!’

  ‘Yes,’ she croaked.

  His hand slid from her ass to her pussy, his fingers roamed every inch of her but didn’t probe inside. Rushe circled her clit, pressed it, rubbed it faster and faster until the embrace of climax compressed her gut. Flick whimpered out, then his hand was gone.

  ‘Second thoughts maybe I don’t want my dick in you. Where you been? Tell me.’

  On that he snatched her hips. Flipping her over, he dropped her onto the table, then grabbed her thighs to haul her to the edge. With his fingers biting into her flesh, he used his strength to hold her legs against the table top, her centre on open show, laid out for him.

  ‘You got a hot cunt, how many men you let play with my pussy? You’re my toy, Kitten, mine, only mine.’

  Flick tried to move her legs, she tried to touch him with her feet, anything to reassure him, but he didn’t let her move. When she tried to sit up he snatched her breasts and pushed her down again. He didn’t caress, he didn’t kiss, he didn’t make eye contact.

  But massaging her breasts didn’t persist because when her hands moved over his, he hissed away.

  ‘Rushe,’ she whispered.

  ‘Quiet!’

  Grabbing her wrists again, he planted them at the side of her head, pinning her body down with his. Her chance to embrace him came now; she wrapped her legs around him. On the contact, he grit his teeth and his jaw tensed.

  Flick couldn’t get into his head, she didn’t know what he was thinking, or even if he believed what he was saying.

  Sliding her hands up the table he locked her wrists above her head to free up one of his hands, giving him the opportunity to reach between them. He almost always tested her with his fingers before he entered but he didn’t touch her now, he opened his jeans and the heavy weight of his rock-solid penis collided with her folds, but he didn’t enter. Though she frowned, she didn’t speak. His next words had her moistening eyes slinking up to his.

  ‘Consent,’ he murmured.

  Flick’s heart turned to stone, the fire in her chest extinguished by the notion that they’d lost ground, gone back a stage. Tears seeped from her eyes, running down each temple, and then in turn dripping to her ears. Rushe’s grip on her wrists loosened, and a look of horror crossed his usually set expression. He hadn’t believed his words; he hadn’t questioned her loyalty, not until she hesitated on this issue.

  ‘Yes, Rushe,’ she yelped. ‘Yes. I am only for you.’

  The grip above her head re-established, and the weight of his body left hers just enough for him to invade her core. The conquering impact made Flick instantly scream out in climax. But Rushe was hammering forward, pounding into her thrust after thrust with such an intensity that he had to link their fingers palm to palm above her shoulders to keep her in place.

  Rushe bent over her, slowing his actions enough to nudge her head out of his way and suck her neck into his mouth, high up near her hairline, a fingers length behind her ear.

  The marking of her, the physical sign of possession, made Flick’s internal muscles clamp him in place with a spasm so fierce that Rushe couldn’t immediately withdraw.

  He swore aloud and on plunging forward, he grabbed her hips, hauling them off the table so he could stand upright while pouring his seed into her.

  When his release subsided, he dropped her back down, obliging his slaked member to slither out of her body. Tucking himself back into his jeans, Rushe did a couple of buttons then grabbed her arm. On sliding off the table, Flick stumbled to the floor, but Rushe picked her up under one arm and carried her to the bedroom.

  He sat on the closest side of the bed, which was his own side, and flung her down behind him. While still holding her in place with one hand, the other opened his middle drawer.

  ‘No,’ Flick said at the same time Rushe retrieved what he was looking for. ‘Rushe, Lover, you don’t have to...’

  He got the cuff on her wrist without hassle despite her struggling. Flick couldn’t get away. Rushe held her down and locked the cuff to one of the horizontal bars of their bedframe, then he sat back. Flick rattled it but there was no way for her to fight the metal.

  ‘You did it again,’ he said.

  ‘Me?’ Flick asked, letting her body go limp. ‘I seem to remember that you’re the one with the habit of attaching me to the furniture. I’ve never chained you up anywhere!’

  ‘It’s
my fault, I forgot...’ Rushe ran his hand up her shin but she pulled it away causing him to pin her with a glare. ‘You want me to let you go to him?’

  ‘No, don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘Is that what you want?’ Rushe swung up to dive over her. His body covered hers, and his arms stretched up the length of hers, closing their faces together in a private cocoon. ‘Is that what turns you on, Kitten?’ Rushe ran his parted lips down her nose, grazing her mouth they carried on back up her jaw to her ear.

  ‘You want a rich boy? A respectable guy you can take back to daddy? But he doesn’t know you, does he? Not like I do, no one knows how down and dirty you like it. You enjoy being a slut, don’t you? My slut... you like it when I fuck you every second of every day, don’t you, Kitten? Speak.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You want to open your legs for me, on my command, don’t you? Speak.’

  ‘Yes,’ Flick exhaled.

  ‘You’ll do exactly what I tell you, ‘cause that’s all you’re good for isn’t it? That’s all you’re good at, following my orders like a dumb little lamb?’ he asked. ‘Speak.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You love my cock, say it.’

  ‘I love your cock,’ she said, trying to catch his mouth with hers, but he pulled up.

  ‘I say when you get it, think I’m gonna kiss your mouth before I fuck it? You can’t be with a prick like Whyte, couldn’t be with Robert, couldn’t be with any pretty boy. You can’t even hack it with a regular joe.’ Rushe stopped in the fog of their merged breath to lift his head and look her in the eye. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I love your cock,’ she responded, and when she smiled Rushe’s expression relaxed, which was a good sign.

  ‘Good girl.’

  This time he did kiss her, he let his mouth close over hers. His tongue delved into her, seeking out its mate, and it wasn’t lost for long. Flick moaned her soul through this union and into him, but then she recalled his question on the dining table. The warmth in her eyes joined her stinging sinus. Rushe’s hand slid up her inner thigh so Flick took the lead to wrap it around his broad thigh.

  Rushe flicked her upper lip with his tongue then kissed her cheek, her jaw, all the way to the shell of her ear.

  ‘I love you, Kitten,’ he whispered. The only time or place he was comfortable being so emotionally open with her was here, alone, whispering into her ear.

  ‘I missed you,’ she responded, lifting her head to caress his stubble-covered cheek with her smooth one.

  Something startled him because their intimacy was shattered when he sat up. Catching her leg on his kept him upright on his knees, but Rushe smudged his fingers to her face.

  ‘Explain.’

  ‘You didn’t hurt me,’ she said, knowing that physical trauma was always his default assumption.

  ‘I was faithful, if you think—‘

  ‘No, I know you were. I trust you.’

  ‘So, explain,’ he said, using his open palm he wiped her face with all the finesse of a soldier smudging on war paint.

  ‘You asked for my consent, back in the living room. We talked about that. It’s like we went backwards.’

  ‘I couldn’t judge your mood. I don’t like miscommunication.’

  ‘I know,’ she said.

  ‘How long have you been working for Whyte?’ she asked.

  ‘I could ask you the same question.’

  ‘You knew I was there, when you walked in, you looked at me. How did you know that?’

  ‘I saw you at dinner,’ Rushe said. ‘I knew Whyte had a date, didn’t know it was you until you walked in.’

  ‘You were there?’

  ‘I watched those elevator doors close and...’ Rushe struggled to process tender emotion because it was so alien to him. Sex was a physical manifestation of the feelings in him that he still fought against; he used it to process the things that he otherwise didn’t know how to handle.

  ‘You were scared for me,’ she said, and noted he was as angry with her for saying it, as he was with himself for feeling it.

  ‘Didn’t expect you to go to his bedroom.’

  ‘That wasn’t his bedroom.’

  ‘It’s his suite, where he lives,’ Rushe said. ‘He took you upstairs to fuck you.’

  ‘He did not!’

  ‘Did you ask him?’

  ‘Over dinner? No, I didn’t ask him. Whyte isn’t that kind of man.’

  Rushe’s eyes moved to her breasts. ‘One thing on his mind when he’s looking at your jugs.’

  ‘You mean yours,’ Flick said, happy to remind Rushe of his declaration of ownership.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Did you think I was going to have sex with him? Is that why you were angry?’

  ‘I’m pissed you went to the effort.’

  ‘The dress?’

  ‘You’re fucking hot,’ Rushe said, disentangling himself from her limbs to leave the bed.

  ‘Thank you. But I don’t think the compliment was your point.’

  ‘What the fuck are you thinking going places alone with a guy?’

  ‘Any guy?’

  ‘You learned nothing,’ he said, dropping his hands onto the footboard, which had horizontal bars like the headboard, but it was a few bars lower.

  ‘I was trying to help! If you and your friends hadn’t interrupted—‘

  ‘Sorry to bust up the party,’ Rushe retorted. ‘I could’ve blown my cover making excuses to get up there!’

  ‘Excuses?’

  ‘You think that the interruption was coincidence? Who do you think created the situation?’

  ‘You?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not gonna watch my woman...’ he fumed. ‘What was your exit strategy?’

  ‘I...’ Flick began. ‘I thought he was taking me to a public bar.’

  ‘You know what Rohypnol is? GHB?’

  ‘Rushe!’

  ‘He wanted to fuck you!’

  ‘I doubt that he’s—‘

  ‘But you don’t know,’ he barked.

  ‘That girl is still in there, somewhere.’

  ‘You told me to find her,’ Rushe said. ‘You pulled the lever, Kitten, you started this.’

  ‘Yes, and I was trying to help. You told me to keep poking around.’

  ‘In your computer!’

  ‘Don’t shout at me! You’re the liar. You told me you were leaving.’

  ‘And I did,’ he snarled, remaining steadfast and unapologetic, though Rushe wasn’t usually the apologetic type.

  ‘I didn’t realise you meant just a few blocks over!’

  ‘I left the city,’ he said. ‘But I got the chance to come back and get close; you don’t fuck around with a chance like that.’

  ‘This was about shutting me out. All the time I’ve been here, I thought there was progress. I thought we were on the same team!’

  ‘We share a bed, Kitten; you’re too reckless to be in on the action.’

  Rushe began to move for the door, and Flick pounced up to a crouch. Being tethered again brought back old memories.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m thirsty.’

  ‘We’re talking.’

  ‘I don’t argue with women.’

  Flick cursed out at him, but Rushe just carried on out of the room leaving her there. Calling out or shouting wouldn’t hurry him, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. So she lay there, right in the middle of the bed and closed her eyes.

  Something close to twenty minutes had passed and Flick wasn’t asleep, but Rushe did saunter back in. She maintained her facade of sleep, but her curiosity was awakened when Rushe dropped something, there was a zip, he muttered, and then there was the flutter of pages. She wouldn’t give in though, and sure enough less than a minute later she heard the tell-tale sounds of Rushe getting undressed.

  It had been more than a week, she was spread out here, naked, going nowhere, and they were alone. Rushe was a starving dog, usually they had sex seve
ral times a day, but they’d just gone cold turkey.

  The bed shifted, telling Flick that he’d seated himself beside her. His hot palm covered the breast furthest from his position; he squeezed and massaged the flesh, pinching her nipple several times until it was in a painfully tight peak.

  Her breast closest to him was treated to his mouth; he slapped the other breast a couple of times and kept working her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

  Rushe sucked on her neglected nipple, he tugged it between his teeth and began to flicker his tongue over it. Breathing out her pleasure, of its own volition her body gently arched into his mouth.

  Taking his attention to her other breast, Rushe lapped his tongue across the pebble he’d created, and blew slow circles to it. Rushe would claim not to know what making love was, this kind of glorious attention was inadvertent on his part. He could play with her breasts for hours and still not realise how his devotion indulged her.

  ‘Release me,’ she whispered, though she still hadn’t opened her eyes.

  ‘Not a chance,’ he hummed, suckling her again.

  ‘Please, Lover.’

  ‘You’re not getting your greedy hands on my dick.’

  ‘He likes me,’ she sighed.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Rushe’s mouth disappeared and Flick opened to see him lie down at her side. His erection, in so desperate want of attention, poked her thigh.

  ‘Let me kiss him,’ she said. ‘We’ve been separated for so long.’

  ‘Yeah, less than an hour.’

  ‘That, in the living room, doesn’t count,’ she said. ‘That can’t have sated him... that can’t have sated you, can it? Have you had your fill of me?’

  His scorching breath met her cleavage when he let a pulse of laughter escape.

  ‘Kitten, you’re not getting any sleep tonight, or tomorrow.’ His head rose. ‘I’ve got you tied down and you’re not going anywhere... you’re my prisoner, just the way I like it.’

  Chapter Nine

  He hadn’t been lying. Flick’s body shook, and her muscles screamed. Standing here in the shower they shared, Flick let the water run over her face and pushed her hair back. Rushe remained behind her; the dual stall had a shower at each end. Her steadying hand descended to turn off the water, but Rushe caught it, and pressed her palm to the tile.