Wicked Release (13 page)

Sam rocked his hips against her. “You think you're ready for more? Or do you need a break?” he challenged, eyes glistening.

Cupping his face, Jess kissed him, rolling Sam onto his back and straddling him. Even in the darkness, she could see his gaze sharpen and his large hands settled on her hips, cradling her body. He grinned up at her. “You know, I don't usually let my subs flip me onto my back.”

The memory of shibari once again invaded her thoughts and she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to rid her mind and body of the thought. Yet, wetness pooled between her legs and over Sam's erect cock.

When she opened her eyes again, his questioning gaze locked onto her. “What is it?”

What did it say about herself that she wanted to try this? What did it say about Sam if he was willing to as well? “There's something I want to try.”

“Oh?”

“I-I want you to tie me up. Gently, but—” His grip on her tightened and she could feel his dick harden and pulse against her wet heat. “Would that turn you on?”

His thumbs circled her hipbones, burning a spherical path, leaving heat tingling in the wake of his touch. “More than you can know or understand. It turns you on as well?”

She jerked a nod, nerves dancing in her belly.

He glanced around the room, his eyes settling on the gold cord tassels used to tie Cass's curtains back. Jess rolled off him, pulling her knees to her chest and watching him in all his masculine glory as he stood, untying the tassels from the windows. It didn't take long until he had one long rope held together by several knots.

Jess gulped. “Have you done this before?”

Sam sat on the bed, smoothing Jess's hair with his palm. “What answer would freak you out the least?”

“The honest one.”

He nodded. “Then, yes. I've tied women up in the past.”

Oh, hell.
She thought she wanted the honest answer, but maybe she
didn't
want to know some things.

“Some women want to be tied up really rough—restricting blood flow to certain areas. Others simply want their movement restricted. You remember your safe word?”

“Sapphire,” she noted, staring into his deep blue eyes, which always reminded her of her favorite gemstone.

“Have you been tied up before?” There was a challenge within the question, but Jess didn't want to lie.

“Yes, but not during sex.”

There was a static shift of energy within the room. “When?” he demanded.

“Why does that matter? It intrigued me. And you're the one I want to experiment with. Why can't you just give me what I desire without questioning and needing to control my past?”

His expression softened, though not quite as much as it had been earlier. “On your knees,” he said with quiet command.

Her body clenched, clit swelling as she did as she was told.

He moved gracefully as he took one wrist, pulling it behind her back, followed by the other. “Spread your knees.” His voice was rough with a rawness that hadn't been there before and it raked across her skin. She scooted her knees apart. “Wider,” he growled, and his voice sounded almost as dry as her throat felt.

He didn't possess the tender precision that Elliot did, but this wasn't about comparison. It was about trying something that caused her body to react. And react in ways she wasn't used to. Winding the drapery tassels around her, he coiled her arms together behind her back, finishing at the wrists.

“Is it too tight?”

She shook her head. It was tight, but not painful. “It's perfect,” she said, and wet her lips, looking at his blazing eyes.

He advanced on her, pausing at her mouth before sucking her bottom lip and tongue into his. Scooping her body up, he rested her on her back. “Keep your knees bent open and put the bottoms of your feet flat against each other.”

Her pulse fluttered, heart racing, slamming into her rib cage, but she didn't fight him. He grabbed the only tassel left from the last curtain and wound the cord around her ankles, tying her feet together. When he finished, he stepped back, admiring her. Or she thought he was admiring—it was hard to tell with his impassive expression.

“Don't you like it?” she asked after another painfully silent second.

His erection jutted toward her, thick and hard and completely ready for her. “I love it.” She could feel that hoarse whisper in the depths of her body and they stood there, eyes locked for a moment longer.

“What now?”

His smirk twitched. “You sure about this? Wanting me to be in control?”

“Well, one of us is tied up and the other isn't.”

A vibration grumbled in his chest and he closed his eyes thoughtfully. “With that sarcastic answer, you're lucky I don't have my crop here,” he said.

His eyes darkened, dipping the length of her body. Her knees were still open, her vagina wet and spread. “And if you did?”

Bending at the waist, he brushed his fingertips over her pussy. “I'd spank you here. Not too hard . . . but enough to warn you that I didn't approve of your tone.”

“I think I might enjoy that.”

“Then you should disobey me more, apparently.” He stepped forward, sliding Jess so that her head was at the edge of the bed, and positioned his cock at her lips. Her throat moistened immediately at seeing him up close like that and she opened up, taking him deep inside her mouth. He groaned and pumped his hips against her face before lowering his lips to her pussy once more. He dove his tongue inside her, pumping with a ferocity that mirrored her own.

His dick grew with each slurp and she curled her tongue around the head, nibbling the ridge and stroking the vein that pierced forth from the skin.

Another sweet release was right there as his tongue flicked skillfully against her clit. It was within reach, seconds away, and yet even if she tried, Jess couldn't get there on her own. And just as she thought she might explode, he stopped, removing his tongue from her as that orgasm faded into the darkness growing further out of reach with each passing second.

Jess whimpered as her nerve endings zinged alive.

His hands were on her again, fondling her heavy breasts, teasing her clit, pumping his fingers in and out of her tight pussy before he flipped her onto her stomach, nudging her hips high in the air. She heard the sound of a condom wrapper ripping and watched over her shoulder as he rolled protection over his solid length.

With a hard thrust, he buried his erection deep inside of her. He seemed to relish the feel of being deep and he paused, rolling his hips and hitting that sweet knot deep inside. Then he pulled back, his cock stroking its way back and out of her before repeating that same hard, pounding thrust, speeding up with each pumping motion of his hips.

With one hand, he spanked her ass hard and out of instinct that she didn't even know she possessed, Jess arched into his hand on her backside. His dick, hard and veined, stretched her, molding her body around his and he slipped his hands around her wrists, using the tassels as leverage to pull her body back against his even more firmly.

Reaching around, he fingered her clit, pinching and stroking until pleasure was spiraling and spreading through her body. “I won't come until you come again,” he said through heavy breaths, and his body was sweaty against hers. “Come for me, baby.”

A low, guttural sound escaped from somewhere so deep that Jess didn't even know it existed. She felt as if she were outside of her own body as her spasms took hold. She clamped around Sam's cock, releasing with each contraction. His release came quickly after hers, his cock pulsing as the tension in Jess's body eased.

Curling his arm around her waist, his hand settled on her stomach and he rolled onto his back, taking Jess with him, still tied up. Her legs flopped open, his half-flaccid erection still wet and pressing into her ass. She sighed, utterly satiated, and felt his lips land at the curve of her shoulder. Her bound arms served as the only barrier between their bodies and the pull against her muscles wasn't entirely unwelcome.

Questions swirled in Jess's mind.
What the hell was Sam talking about—not wanting to be my master? Isn't that the whole purpose of this lifestyle?
Waves of pleasure tingled down her body as his fingers stroked her torso up and down. He was tender in the movement, a sweet caress that wasn't meant to be sexual. And yet, it was. Jess wasn't sure she could be with him for life. She wasn't even sure she could forgive him for the past and all the lies. In fact, she was certain they were a long way from reconciling. And yet she wanted him here. She wanted to be in his arms. In his bed. In his life. And that desire to be near Sam was too strong to ignore.

She sighed, inhaling his woodsy scent. “You should untie me before I fall asleep like this.”

He gently rolled her off him. “Only if you promise not to run.”

“It's
my
house.”

“Very well. Only if you promise not to kick me out.” He slid his mouth over hers, his tongue parting her lips.

“Mmm. You win. You can stay . . . for tonight.”

“Good.” He slid down the bed to her feet, working out the knot at her ankles. “Because I had more of this in mind before we fall asleep.”

21

T
he next morning, Sam's phone alarm blared from the pocket of his discarded pants. Jess flung her body to a seated position in bed, seemingly disoriented as Sam scrambled, reaching for the phone that was just an arm's length out of reach. Turning it off, he smoothed her hair and pressed another kiss to her temple as he guided her onto her back once more. Her hair fanned around her, the dark brown ripples draped across her white pillow like a painting.

“Sorry,” he said, nuzzling into her for just a moment more. Was it possible? Had she already forgiven him for the horrible reasons he had pushed her away all those years in high school? It didn't seem likely and yet, here they were. In bed together, spooning as though no rift had ever separated them.

She moaned, throwing an arm over her face, shielding her eyes from the encroaching morning sun. “What time is it?” she croaked, and despite the fact that he hadn't brushed his teeth yet, Sam slid his lips up her jaw.

“Just after six. I have to be down at the precinct by seven, unfortunately.”

Her eyes opened wide at that and she spun to face him. “The case?”

He didn't want to lie to her anymore. Never again. But he knew that by talking about her sister's case, he was putting both their lives in danger. After a heavy sigh, he nodded. “Maybe. I don't know. Your sister was involved in this new drug that's illegal in the US—”

“Biophuterol,” Jess said, and a flash of regret passed across her features. Something unspoken tightened between them.
Shit. How did she know the name of the drug?
wondered Sam.

“What have you found out about it?”

She chewed the inside of her lip, but to her credit, she didn't shrink away from their eye contact. She held her own, even naked in bed.

“Not much. I just came across it and put it all together. So, this case you're going in for this morning—you're not sure it has to do with Cass, but it involves her drug?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Sam pushed off the bed, grabbing his pants and sliding them on. “Just a teenage user. He robbed a gas station and we found the pills with his arrest. I'm hoping I can trace the drugs back to where he initially got them and then maybe the path will lead to whoever is the boss of the ring—and also Cass's likely killer.”

“Maybe I could come with you—”

“Jessie, no. Jesus . . .” He tucked his shirt in, sitting on the edge of the bed and doing his best to explain calmly. “You get why that's a bad idea, right? You
have
to get why we can't do that. You said yourself last night, we're not even supposed to be seen talking to each other. It's one thing if we're both called into a crime scene. But ultimately, they want you out of town and away from me. They want you to stop shoving your nose where it doesn't belong.” He cupped her jaw and traced his thumb down the edge of her ear to her chin. “I'm good at my job. Let me do this.”

“But—”

“You coming in with me to the station? Us leaving this house and driving together? It's a terrible idea. I
know
you know that.”

“I know,” she said, aiming her eyes at the bedspread and picking at invisible lint. “I just really want to catch this bastard.”

Those brown eyes were velvety soft, like milky chocolate. They tore into his heart. “I know. We want the same thing. We just have to be smart about this.”

She pushed onto her knees, still nude, skin soft, and wrapped her arms around Sam, tugging him against her body in a kiss. His erection came on swiftly, pushing into her belly. “Does this mean you forgive me?” he said, nipping at her earlobe.

She sighed, falling even further into his arms and resting her cheek on his shoulder. “Almost.”

“Anything I can do to speed it up?”

She pulled back, peering up at him and Sam couldn't help himself. He ran his hands across her nude flesh, softer than satin and even smoother pressed now against his body than it had been in his memory. When she didn't answer his question, he pulled back, grabbing his wallet and stuffing it into his back pocket. He kissed her once more. “I understand you need more time. Take as much as you need.” He squeezed her hand and as he turned to leave, she held on, tugging him back into her as one side of her mouth lifted into a mischievous grin.

“Uh-oh,” Sam said, tossing his keys back to the floor. “I know that look.”

“What look?” she asked in mock innocence.

“On your hands and knees, Walters,” he demanded, but softened the order with a smile.

She licked her lips and dragged her own hand down over her breast, landing at her damp sex. “Make me.”

“Oh, babe. Don't say things you don't mean.”

Ten minutes, a shower, and two orgasms later, Sam left through the back door, making sure it was locked behind him. Whoever was after her clearly wanted Jess nowhere near him or the case involving her sister. And that's all they needed to see—him sneaking out of her house early in the morning. Luckily, he had parked down by the street near the wharf, only a five-minute walk away.

Sam scaled Jess's fence—which admittedly wasn't all that tall to begin with—and landed in her neighbor's yard. To be safe, he ran the back way around—an extra two blocks—so as to not attract attention before getting in his car and going to pick up Matt.

He pulled up to his friend's house on the outskirts of the city. One of the reasons Matt and Kelly had chosen their house was specifically because of the infamous jogging path around the Back Bay—a six-mile loop that Kelly was convinced living near would get Matt to join her in runs.

Sam snorted at the thought as he pulled into their driveway and gave his horn a quick honk. Kelly knew Matt almost as long as he had. The kid had barely run when he was in high school. Why she thought he would take up running in adulthood was beyond Sam.

Matt came out his front door and Kelly was there with baby Grace in her arms, her hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head. She gave Sam a wave and kissed Matt before he got in the car.

Matt gave Sam a once-over, eyebrows nestled low over his eyes before they lifted along with his grin. “Same clothes as yesterday, huh?”

Sam ran a hand through his wet hair. Thank God he had thought to shower at Jess's quickly before leaving. If he'd come to pick Matt up smelling like her perfume, he never would have heard the end of it. “Laundry day,” he muttered, and skidded out of the driveway.

“You're also late,” Matt said, buckling up and settling into Sam's passenger seat.

“Look in the backseat,” Sam said, speeding toward the station.

“Doughnuts!”

Sam smirked.
Do I know my buddy or what?
Even though he knew Matt would still likely see through his “laundry” excuse, the powdery doughnuts were the perfect distraction to draw attention away from him. “Just a little celebration for getting our duo back together.”

And just like that, Matt let the Jess conversation drop. By the time he had finished his doughnuts and coffee, Sam was backing into a spot right outside the precinct. That was the nice thing about getting there hours early.

Sam grabbed the extra coffees and the hidden bag of doughnuts he had tucked under his seat so that his partner wouldn't find them. He locked the car as Matt wiped the powder from his goatee. “You tell Rodriguez I was coming back today?”

Matt nodded. “Yeah. She might still shadow the both of us, though, if that's okay. Straimer wants her to get more experience on the job.”

Sam held the door open for Matt as he walked in. “It's okay by me.”

Matt led the way down to the holding cells on the lower level, providing Sam with info as they went. “Dylan Delansky. We've still yet to get Delansky's parents on the horn.” The elevator opened and Matt passed Sam the files. “There you go. Work your magic.”

Sam stepped out of the elevator, eyeing the kid asleep in his cell.

Before he woke up, Sam slipped inside the interview room and set up the coffee and doughnuts for Dylan. He hit the temperature on the thermostat, making it warmer, more comfortable, and pulled over the cushioned chair that was softer and more plush than the others. Sam paused, looking around the room. Two-way mirrors were on each wall for the two separate observation areas and Sam dragged a chair underneath the video feed, turning the cameras on.

Sam quietly opened Dylan's cell, gently waking him. The boy's eyes were bloodshot and he jerked awake. “Hey, Dylan,” Sam said, leading him into the interview room.

“Hi,” Dylan grumbled as he pulled his faded T-shirt up to his face, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

He blinked, rubbing his eyes, but became immediately more alert as he took a seat in front of the assembled breakfast. Dylan licked his lips, eyeing the food as though it was some sort of trap and ran his hands through russet-colored hair.

“I thought you might be hungry.” Sam gestured to the breakfast. “Go ahead, eat.”

“R-really?” But the question was barely out of his mouth before he was stuffing a doughnut into his mouth.

Sam sat back in his chair, reading through Matt's and Laura's notes on Dylan's arrest while he ate. Sam hated watching kids like Dylan come in . . . kids whose parents had failed them. It was a bitter reminder of Sam's own childhood.

Dylan gave a satiated moan and he sipped the coffee. “Hey—why am I still here?” he asked through doughnut crumbs. “I already told you I did it. I robbed the gas station.”

“Yep, you did. You confessed.” Sam tapped the legal pad with his story written down on it in messy, hurried cursive. “But there's something we need to know even more than the Irving robbery.”

“What's that?” Dylan licked his lips nervously, eyes darting back and forth at the observation mirrors that led to two different rooms for viewing the interrogation.

“Look, I know cops always say this . . . but it's just you and me here. No one's back there. I want to get you out of here.
You
want to get out of here. But I need your help.” Sam rested his elbows on the table, tossing the blank legal pad to his side.

“What do you want to know? It's not like I got much from that stupid robbery. Some cigarettes and a hundred bucks.”

“Yeah. Exactly,” Sam said. “And that little robbery is enough to send you away for a few years and fuck up your whole life. You get that, right? You got someone I don't know about who's willing to cover your lawyer fees? Because trust me, they don't come cheap.”

Dylan's eyes settled on a spot on the wall somewhere behind Sam. “I'll figure it out,” he said, but his voice was hollow.

“Yeah. You'll get appointed a city defender who has too many cases just like yours. You'll get ignored until your trial day and he'll read about your case on the commute in over his morning cup of joe. He'll barely have enough facts to stumble through your trial—”

“What's your point?” Dylan said, heated. He sat up straighter.

Sam felt the urge to smile but repressed it. He was getting to him.
Well, good.
He was saying exactly what he needed to get information, but that didn't make it untrue. “My point is you will go down for this. It'll be more than a little community service this time. You're no longer a minor. You're not a first-time offender—”

“They can't use my juvy record in the trial—”

“Doesn't mean they won't try to,” Sam said. “There's a chance I can get these charges lessened though. If you tell me where you got your Biophuterol.”

“My what?”

“Your drugs, Dylan. The O. Where'd you get your O from?”

Dylan fell back against his chair. “Man, if I tell you that, I'll have a target on my back as soon as I step out of here. They don't let snitches walk away. And that stuff's harmless. I don't do the bad shit—never touched cocaine or heroin. Don't mess with meth. Just some pot and some O. Feels fucking good, but no worse than a few cups of coffee.”

“Who's telling you that?”

He shrugged, avoiding Sam's glare. “Everyone. It's just red tape keeping it from being a legal prescription drug here. You can apparently get it easy in Canada.”

“Oh yeah? Guess they didn't tell you that we've seen a handful of OD's on Biophuterol lately, huh? About how the increased oxygen to your brain and organs causes your heart rate to increase to dangerous levels?”

“What? No—”

“Yes. It's a drug meant for people whose hearts aren't working properly. But if healthy people use it, it's dangerous.”

For a moment, Sam thought he was getting through to him, but then Dylan shook his head, crossing his arms. “You're just trying to scare me.”