We cracked open two beers, and while I ate, Charlie got to work tearing out floorboards. He was much faster at it than I was, and had another quarter of it done within about twenty minutes. Pretty soon there was nothing but a three foot strip along the back of the room. “Take a break.” I opened another beer for him and held it out. “Come sit. Watch your head on the barre.”
He tossed his hammer into his tool box and dropped down next to me, ducking under the barre to lean back against the wall.
I watched his mouth on the lip of the bottle. “Thanks for helping me tonight. You’re much faster at this than me.”
“I can see that.” He elbowed me. “You’re welcome. How was the burger?”
“Delicious.”
He glanced down at the bag on the floor, where I’d discarded some toppings, and frowned. “You took off all the good stuff.”
“No, I didn’t. I took off the onion, lettuce, and tomato.”
“Why?”
“Because salad does not belong on top of a burger. It goes on the side.”
He looked sideways at me. “Wait a minute. Are you one of those people who doesn’t like her food to touch?”
I lifted my shoulders. “Not really.”
Confession: I’m one of those people who doesn’t like her food to touch.
He groaned. “You are, aren’t you? Figures.” Bringing his beer to his mouth again, he took a long swallow.
“Hey listen. I’m very appreciative of the burger and the help. Can we leave it at that and not argue, please?”
“I’m not arguing. I’m making fun of you.”
I gave him a dirty look, and he laughed.
“OK, sorry. I won’t do it anymore, even though you make it so easy.” He nudged my leg with his. “I liked your class tonight. You’re a good teacher.”
Swallowing, I placed my palm on my chest. “Was that an actual compliment? My heart’s all aflutter!”
“It was, and you’re welcome. Don’t get used to it.” He drank again. “You put your alarm in yet?”
I nodded imperiously, picking up my beer. “As a matter of fact, I did. Are you proud of me?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.” He clinked his bottle against mine.
“Any more news on the burglar? Or burglars?” I pushed the big carton of fries between us so we could share what was left, but Charlie poked them back toward me.
“You finish them. You need a little more meat on your bones.” This with a glance at my less-than-Krista-sized breasts. “And no, nothing new on those guys. They’ve hit a few more houses since yours, mostly people who still leave their garages or cars or back doors unlocked. Which kills me, because it’s not like these guys are breaking in.”
I ignored his dig at my lack of rack and picked up some fries. “That’s crazy. I can’t believe people are so dumb. I mean, I did it too, but after all the warnings in the news…” Shaking my head, I shoveled some fries in my mouth. They were cold but still crispy and mouth-wateringly salty. Give me salt over sweet any day.
“It’s not just being dumb. People are too trusting. They always think something bad won’t happen to them. These guys are taking advantage of that, and getting away with it.”
“You don’t think they’ll be caught?” The thought distressed me. Even if I didn’t get my stuff back, I wanted the guy who’d violated my privacy to be punished.
He shrugged. “Not every asshole gets punished. But if I do find the one that broke into your house, I plan on serving up a little justice of my own.”
“What kind of justice?”
“The kind that’s dispensed by my fists.”
I glanced at his hands. He had strong, thick hands. A scar on one knuckle. Workingman’s hands, but with clean fingernails. Nice long fingers. Mmm, his fingers. “Isn’t that against the rules?”
“Fuck the rules.” The stubborn set of his profile and the heat beneath his words told me he took my break-in seriously. And personally.
“Thanks.”
“You can thank me after I kick his ass.”
“I will. I’d like to watch. And mind you, I am not a person who enjoys violence. But I think I’d enjoy that.”
“Makes two of us.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, me munching French fries and getting a little worked up at the thought of Charlie kicking somebody’s ass for me, of seeing him aroused to violence on my behalf. Something fluttered between my legs, and I crossed them at the ankle.
Charlie finished up his second beer, but I thought I’d better stick to one tonight—two, and I was liable to invite him to back to my house for a little more drilling. The memory of being bent over that island hit me again, and I closed my eyes, squeezing my thighs together just for a second. Jesus. That orgasm was so intense. Why should it be that intense with someone I’m not in love with? It didn’t seem fair. Could I justify sleeping with Charlie? Because if he was that good with his hands, imagine how good he was with his—
He laughed.
My eyes snapped open. “What’s funny?”
“You. You just moaned.”
“What?”
“You moaned just now, and your eyes were closed. What were you thinking about?”
“Uh, these fries.” I shoved the last one in my mouth and chewed frantically.
“Erin.” He put a hand on my leg. “What were you thinking about? I want to know.”
I swallowed. Should I just tell him the truth? I barely knew Charlie. I barely liked Charlie. But maybe it was because I didn’t like him all that much that I figured I might as well be honest. What did I have to lose? After a breath, I looked him in the eye. “I was thinking about that night in my kitchen.”
“Yeah? What about it?”
And I heard it—the low, hushed tone. He’s turned on too. “I liked it.”
“You, a person who does not enjoy violence, liked being coerced in the dark like that? Forced to do what I wanted you to?”
“Yes. Does that surprise you?”
“Actually,” he said slowly, “it scares me a little.”
“Why?”
“Because I know what I would have done to you if the lights hadn’t come back on.”
My stomach cartwheeled. “Turn off the lights and do it now.”
He inhaled and exhaled, deep and controlled. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
For a few seconds, neither of us moved. I imagined that in his mind he was debating the wisdom of subjecting me to more coercion. I’d said I liked things dirty, but he must have recognized that I hadn’t had much experience. It had probably been obvious by my stunned, faltering reactions to his words and his hands. But it had also been obvious that I enjoyed it, right?
What was he afraid of?
Confession: I was afraid too. Of being rejected, of being in over my head, of being wrong about my inclinations.
But mostly I was turned on. And curious. And bored with the Naughty Rabbit.
Bring on the Naughty Cop.
“Charlie.” I set my beer bottle down and got on my hands and knees. “Show me.”
He looked down at my wrists and circled one with his fingers. “Don’t. Move.”
With powerful agility, he popped to his feet and moved for the door, covering the distance in three huge strides. Left on my hands and knees at the back of the room, I felt caged but poised to escape, as if something trapped inside me was about to be set free. Insane energy radiated throughout my limbs, and my breaths were loud, louder even than my heartbeat.
A moment later, I heard the deadbolt on the front door thrown shut, and Charlie appeared again in the doorway. Glancing at the light panel just inside the room, he flipped down all the switches but one—a row of spotlights along the mirror. Then he walked slowly to a back corner of the room, about ten feet from me.
“Come here,” he said quietly. “On your hands and knees.”
Pulse racing, I crawled toward him, my eyes on his. When I reached his feet, I sat back on my heels. And saw the handcuffs dangling from his fingers.
Two sets.
And they weren’t pink.
“Put your hands up.”
I raised my bare arms over my head, my lower lip trembling when he came at me.
He moved so fast.
In three heartbeats he had me cuffed to the barre, wrists still crossed over my head, so that I couldn’t move my arms at all. I was on my knees, my back to the wall.
Charlie stood in front of me, and for a moment I thought he was going to unzip his pants and put in a request for that blowjob he’d mentioned at my house. I’d have done it, but it dismayed me a little not to have my hands free. My blowjob choreography is pretty good, I think, but it does require the use of my hands and fingers.
But Charlie had other ideas.
First, he pulled my hair free from the knot at the back of my head, letting it tumble down over my shoulders. Next, he knelt in front of me and ran his fingertips slowly from my wrists to my elbows, down my triceps to my ribcage, down my waist to my hips. I shivered in anticipation, my nipples tingling. What was he going to do to me? Sliding his palms back up my sides, he pushed the thin black cotton tank up over my breasts, letting his thumbs linger on the hard pink tips peeking through black lace.
Oh my God. I shivered so hard the cuffs rattled above my head.
“Sensitive?” He rubbed his thumbs over them in tiny, toe-curling circles.
“Yes.”
“Good. I like that.”
My stomach whooshed.
He flicked open the front clasp of my bra and lowered his head, teasing one stiff peak with his tongue, and then the other. Returning to the first, he sucked it into his mouth, pinching the other one between his fingertips. Hard. I flinched, and he closed his teeth around my nipple, holding it there and flicking it with his tongue.
More cuff rattling. A little whimpering too. Warmth bloomed between my legs, and I widened them slightly. I wanted him to touch me there. I needed it. “Charlie.” His name on my lips was a plea.
“Patience, sweet thing.” He straightened, brushing the backs of his fingers softly across my stinging nipples, then lightly rubbing tiny circles on each crest with the pads of his thumbs. Pure lust shot straight to my core, and my wrists snapped hard against the metal. He laughed quietly, bringing his thumbs to the center of my chest and trailing them in a line down to my belly button. My stomach quivered beneath his touch. “I know you’re anxious, and I am too, but I can’t have the Homecoming Queen handcuffed and helpless before me and not tease her just a little bit.”
I closed my eyes, tipping my forehead to my arm. “No. Don’t tease me.”
“So you were the Homecoming Queen.”
“Yes, but—“
“You lied to me. I might have to punish you a little bit, make you wait for what you want.”
“No! Please.” About this point, I was thinking I liked the other game better, the one where he gets me off with his fingers in about three minutes flat.
“I do like it when you say ‘please.’” Reaching behind me, he pulled my shoes off my feet. “When you beg me.”
I picked up my head, trying to regain a little control. “I haven’t begged you.”
“You will.” He yanked my pants and underwear to my knees, then pulled my legs forward so he could get them off altogether. The wood floor was smooth and cool beneath my ass. “Now get on your knees again and stay there.”
I followed his instructions, bringing my jittery legs beneath me, knees together.
“Wider.”
Holding my breath, I slid my knees out to the side. Cool air met my hot center, and I wondered if he could see how wet I was.
His eyes traveled down my body from my wrists to my knees, and I felt his gaze like molten wax dripping over my skin. “So beautiful. And such a good girl,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling the sleeves. “So good I’m going to ask her what she’d like first. My hands? My tongue?”
I liked the way he said she and her instead of you—it made me feel like this me was a different person, and it gave me the confidence to do and say things I otherwise wouldn’t have. I glanced down below his belt, and the bulge of his erection made my core muscles tighten. I wanted to see it. I wanted intimate parts of him bare to me, like mine were to him. “Undo your belt.”
“Look at the way she gives orders even when she’s restrained.” But he undid his belt and slipped it through the buckle. “Now what?”
“Show me.”
“Show you what?”
Oh, you bastard. “Your cock. Show me your cock.” My chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as he pulled his shirt from his pants and unbuttoned it, letting it hang open. Then he undid his pants, pushing them down just enough to free his erection. My fingers curled into frustrated fists. Should I beg him to set my hands free? I knew he wouldn’t. “Touch it for me,” I whispered.
He stroked himself slowly, from base to tip, never taking his eyes off my face. “Like this?”
I watched, barely able to keep from hyperventilating at the sight. Holy fuck, Charlie Dwyer had an enormous cock, maybe even bigger than the Naughty Rabbit, and he was touching it right in front of me. And he was so calm about it! I was bursting out of my skin. “Yes, like that.”
“You want to watch me?” He twisted his wrist as his thick, hard flesh slipped through his fingers.
I licked my lips. “Yes.”
“You’ll have to watch yourself too.”
“Huh?”
Pitching forward, he flipped over before sliding back so his head was between my knees. “Watch yourself.” His breath was hot on my inner thigh. “In the mirror.”
The mirror—I’d forgotten where we were. My head snapped up, and my eyes locked on our reflections in the glass, about fifteen feet away. “Oh my God,” I whispered as Charlie snaked his arms around my thighs and pulled my hips down over his face. “Oh my God,” I said, much louder, as his tongue stroked me from my clit to my ass. My ass. I am not even making this up—he licked me there. My leg muscles tightened and I yanked hard on the cuffs, nearly hanging from them. Jesus, I hope this barre is securely bolted. Because I think I could pull it right off the wall.
My mouth hung open in ecstasy as he switched from slow velvet sweeps of his tongue through my pussy to rapid little flicks over my clit. I looked down, gasping for breath when I saw his swollen cock above his pants, framed between the V lines of his lower abdomen. His fitted undershirt had ridden up just enough for me to see the bottom portion of his six-pack stomach, and then there was his shiny wet chin between my legs. Christ, I didn’t know where to look—everywhere my eyes alighted was something that threatened to push me over the edge. Nerve endings I didn’t even know I had were igniting inside me.
“Fuck,” I breathed as his tongue swirled and stroked.
“I thought you didn’t swear.” Charlie’s lips brushed my tingling skin.
“I don’t. Fuck,” I said again, louder this time. I hung helplessly from the barre as he pulled my pussy tighter to his face, plunging his tongue inside me. Christ, could he breathe? Forcing myself to open my eyes and watch in the mirror, I panted hard as he devoured me, until I couldn’t take anymore and my entire lower body tingled in anticipation of release—but I didn’t want it to end yet. “Charlie, slow down…slow down.”
“No. This time I want you to come fast,” he said, licking along the crease of my inner thighs. “And I want you to watch it happen.”
“But I—don’t want it to end.” I went totally still, begging my body not to give in.
“You’re going to come for me now, Erin. But go ahead, try to fight it.”
He moved one of his hands from my leg to his cock. Stroking himself as he circled his tongue over my clit, he moaned softly and I struggled mightily with self-control. Oh my God oh my God, was this even real? I watched our reflections like a movie and felt outside myself—the girl barely looked like me, her skin flushed and glowing, reddish hair tumbling down her body, on her face an expression of rapture and disbelief. And she was hanging from a ballet barre by her cuffed wrists, a gorgeous man’s face buried between her thighs. This couldn’t be me!
But it was—I felt the storm inside me, the way it raged against my self-restraint, the way it pummeled my defenses. Below me, Charlie jerked himself faster and harder, with a rhythm that matched his tongue, his hips lifting off the floor. “Oh God,” I moaned, surrendering to it.
Eyes locked on our bodies in the glass, I gave in and moved my hips, rocking over his mouth. He moaned again, and I moved faster, yanking my wrists painfully against the metal cuffs. “Yes,” I cried. “Yes, yes, yes!” My orgasm peaked, my body seizing up, paralyzed in exquisite torture as he sucked my throbbing clit. My cries echoed throughout the empty room, and I closed my eyes, dropping my head back.
Aftershocks made me twitch and tremble as he swept his tongue from front to back, unabashedly probing every slick inch of the seam between my legs. “Oh my God, Charlie.” I picked up my head and opened my eyes. “What are you doing to me?”
“I want you wet when I fuck you.”
Another shiver of excitement racked my body as I looked at his cock. “I’m wet. Fuck me now. Hard.”
Were those my words? Was that my mouth uttering them? Mia once told me that she and Lucas had amazing phone sex once she got over her fear of saying certain things out loud. At the time, I thought I’d never, ever be able to do anything like that. A nice girl just didn’t speak that way, not out loud. What if the guy was repulsed? What if it scared him to have a woman be so immodest, so unashamed? Wouldn’t he think she was slutty?
But I wasn’t scared now. And I didn’t care about being called a slut. I didn’t care about anything right now except feeling Charlie Dwyer’s cock inside me, hearing him tell me what he was going to do to me, hearing myself say the things he asked me to.
Apparently he didn’t care about anything else either, because he was kneeling in front of me rolling a condom over his dick before I could even blink. His face was shiny from his chin to his nose, and the sight of my wetness over his handsome features had me spreading my knees wider, breathing harder.
He took his cock in his hands and teased me with the tip, rubbing it over my sensitive clit. Just like Brad Pitt in the shower, but real. Real! I moaned with impatience, my hands fisting. “Please, Charlie.”
Suddenly he thrust up inside me so hard I was jerked right off the floor. He grabbed the backs of my thighs and hooked my legs around his hips. “Told you you’d beg.”
He gave me what I wanted, and he gave it to me hard and deep. My wrists banged around inside the cuffs, the cool sharp pain in my bones a delicious contrast to the heat buzzing through my core. “That feels—so good,” I said, barely able to speak between hot, heavy breaths.
Charlie’s eyes were locked on my face. “God, you’re beautiful. I’d forgotten how beautiful you were. Or maybe I never knew.” He slid one hand up my side and closed it over my breast, looping the other one around my waist. When he pinched my nipple hard, rolling it between his fingers, I dug my heels into his ass and arched my back. “Fuck yes, and the way you taste…” His hips moved faster, his cock driving into me with a steady, pulsing rhythm. “I like that sweetness all over my fingers, my tongue, my cock. Dripping from you.”
Soft little sounds escaping my throat, I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face in my shoulder. “You’re going to make me come again.”
“Good.”
“Come with me,” I breathed, desperate with the need to have him fall apart too. This couldn’t only be me. He felt how good it was, right?
His hands returned to my ass, jerking me onto his hard length, and I gasped at the hot twinge of pain when he hit the furthest reaches of me. “Fuck yes,” he growled, the friction between our bodies overwhelming him, the depth of his thrusts overwhelming me. My insides squeezed his driving cock, tightening to the point of pain, and for a terrifying moment I lingered at the brink of my second orgasm, unsure if I’d be able to come again without being able to use my hands, pull him closer, put the pressure where I wanted it.
But as if life wasn’t unfair enough, not only did Charlie Dwyer grow up gorgeous and built, he was also apparently a scholar of female anatomy, at least where orgasms are concerned. Right at the critical moment, he tilted my hips in such a way that the base of his cock rubbed my clit, his movements shortening to tiny little thrusts as he came, sending me over the edge. My toes pointed, my mouth fell open, and my entire body went rigid with tension before pleasure unfurled inside me, our bodies pulsing together in unison.
A moment later, I hung limply from the barre and opened my eyes. Charlie’s were still closed, his breaths still quick.
“Um…” I started. But I had no idea what to say. Would this be awkward again? At least this time it wasn’t only me who’d lost control.
Charlie opened his eyes, and a little flutter went through my belly at their deep blue warmth. An aftershock, I decided quickly. Not feelings. For heaven’s sake, we hadn’t even kissed. There were no feelings. But I’d never had sex with anyone I didn’t have feelings for, so it was no wonder my body was confused. My mind just had to keep reminding it that this wasn’t that. It would never be that, and I didn’t want it to be that. Didn’t need it to be that.
“You OK?” he asked, his voice soft. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was tenderness.
“Me? Oh, totally. Totally fine.” In contrast, my voice had a false, annoying ring to it.
“Totally fine.” He eyed me suspiciously before lowering my tank top over my bra. “OK.” He seemed so different—spoke differently, moved differently, acted differently—when he wasn’t turned on.
Then again, I did too. And the transition from one to the other was a little rough.
He unwrapped my legs from his waist and gently extracted himself from me. I sat on the floor, arms immobile over my head, as he disposed of the condom into the empty carry-out bag and bunched it up. Finally he zipped up his pants and reached into his pocket. A moment later, the cuffs were off and my wrists were free.
My arms came down slowly, as if they were floating. It was like that feeling you’d get as a kid when you did the thing where you press your arms away from your body in a doorway, and when you step away, they float up on their own. My fingers were a little numb, and I flexed them, working the blood flow back into my hands. My wrists were sore, and I imagined they would be pretty bruised up tomorrow.
I’d have to wear long sleeves to Thanksgiving dinner and have an excuse ready if my mother caught sight of them.
Because girls like me did not do what I’d just done.
Especially with boys like Charlie Dwyer.
Oh, God. Reality sank in deep. I’d had handcuffed sex in my dance studio with Charlie Dwyer, and he was still standing there looking at me.
What was I supposed to do now?