Raw Ch 06

PROLOGUE

The wall was white. In the middle was a small circle that was darker than the rest of the paint. An old nail hole probably. I wondered what had hung there. Why it had been removed. Why the hole had not been repaired.

A warm breeze blew against my neck, tousling my hair about my shoulders and across my face. I stared through the strands at the wall. It appeared to be covered in an array of cracks now.

I let out a ragged breath. The visual of the plaster resembled my life as of late. Shattered. Damaged. Like an Easter egg that had been dropped after just having been found. One where the dye had bled through and left a permanent stain underneath the shell. When I was a child, I'd made my mom scrape off any colored parts that had blemished the perfect egg white.

I wish someone could do that for me now. To cut out the bad parts of my life so it was enjoyable again.

###

SIX WEEKS EARLIER

The last year-and-a half had been a blur. My first book in the new series, "Triple Tease," had gone to print and become a best-seller practically overnight. Despite my fears of being ostracized due to announcing that I had written the "Dex Knightly Mysteries" series under the pseudonym Drake Alexander for seven years, the stores had struggled to keep my new book in stock. It made my heart swell that my readers had proven and continued to be loyal.

The paparazzi had finally discovered my grandfather's condo. For several months, they had taken to camping outside as if I were the newest member of royalty. While I could stay inside without much disruption, leaving and returning had become a bit of a circus trying not to run over a photographer or journalist. I wondered how much trouble I would be in if I were to 'accidentally' hit one. I mean, where did the public property end and my private domain begin on these narrow streets of Chicago?

I was spending more time at Malcolm's as a result of my renewed popularity because I found that the paparazzi didn't follow me outside of the city. It was a blessing to have a place to escape to. I'd become the proverbial city-girl/country-girl in a sense. And both lifestyles fit me. For now.

I was eternally grateful to my eldest brother for insisting I purchase a cell phone as my landline number had to be shut off to stop the incessant calls. Apparently, someone had found out my number and put it online. I swear, I had never had this problem with my original books. Then again, the technology age was just sprouting its wings at that time. Now, everyone knew what you were doing and when. Sometimes before you did it, it seemed.

Malcolm was always happy to see me, no matter the time or for how long. Even if it was a late night, last minute call to say I was on the way. We played. We just held each other like a normal, vanilla couple. And there were times when he let me act as if I was alone in my own home, though he was always just a few steps away if I needed him.

Even when the popularity died down, I kept to my new routine. In fact, I was visiting Malcolm more often. Which was the reason I was pacing his bedroom at six o'clock in the morning instead of drifting in dreamland beneath the rumpled sheets.

I'd just returned from a week-long book signing tour the day before. Tonight, Sue Warner—my agent and editor—was throwing me a party for the release of the final Dex Knightly book being published in Spanish. It was a small affair of only five of us, and we were just meeting at a local bar for the evening. But I couldn't even think about that right now. I had something more important to do first.

"God, you look so sexy wearing one of my dress shirts," Malcolm said behind me.

I turned to look at him, giving him a small smile as I crossed my arms. The new stance pushed up my breasts, and I saw his eyes grow wider as he copied me and leaned against the bathroom doorway. The light behind him glistened off the water droplets clinging to his combed-back hair. He'd decided to cut it just a few weeks ago, and I was still getting used to it. While it had plenty of body, he was no longer able to pull it back into his distinctive ponytail, which I missed. But then again, the style looked more like Matthew McConaughey's now, so he had that going for him. Not that he wasn't hot enough on his own.

"You know, I almost like it better than the lingerie I bought you for Valentine's Day," he said. The towel hugging his hips suddenly shifted forward. It was the slightest movement, but my eyes just happened to be focused there, so I saw it. And I tried not to smirk at the reason why.

I shook my head and tried to form the words I'd been going over in my head ever since I had watched his naked ass scoot out of bed and walk across the room to take a shower thirty minutes earlier. I couldn't look at him. Not with him barely naked. So I turned to look out the window as I opened my mouth.

"We need to talk."

There was a soft click, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw he'd turned on the beside lamp.

"Really?" His voice sounded closer.

I gulped. "Yes."

"You expect me to talk with you dressed like that?"

I closed my eyes. "Try."

"I can't make any promises." He was right behind me now, his breath hot against the back of my neck as he brushed my hair to the side and planted a kiss on my spinal column.

"I'm serious." I would turn to give him an intense stare, but I feared I would lose control.

"So am I." His hand cupped my hip and pulled my ass back against him, erasing any doubts I might have had about what he was hiding beneath his towel.

"You're not making this any easier."

"You think I'm making it," he slowly ground his hips against my rear a little more, "...harder?"

I gulped again, my knees shaking this time. Dammit.

"Are you wearing anything underneath my shirt?" He didn't wait for me to answer but cinched up the hem on my left side until I felt his fingers caressing my skin, searching for the strap of my panties. Panties I knew he wouldn't find.

Before he could discover the truth, I slapped at his hand and stepped away. "I'm serious, Malcolm. We need to talk."

"You know, Becca, I haven't been in many relationships. But I do know those are four words that no man ever wants to hear. And I've heard them twice in the last two minutes."

The words spilled out before I could stop them. "You must be getting tired of me encroaching on your life. I'm smothering you. It wasn't my intention at all. I'm just so grateful that you've opened your house for me. I just feel like maybe it's too much. We're going to regret this relationship. I should back off."

Dammit. That did not come out as eloquently as I'd expected. In fact, it was nothing like the words I'd rehearsed.

There was a moment of dead silence, then he said, "Do you want to move in together?"

I finally turned back around, slack-jawed, to see a wide-eyed, Cheshire-grin look on his face. "Huh?"

He stepped toward me and raised both hands. He repeated himself. But with each word he slowly enunciated, he undid a button on the shirt I was wearing. "Do you want to move in together?" He paused after the last word—the last button—to tuck his fingers under my chin, tilting it up, and he added, "Lady Becca?"

I stifled a groan, but I couldn't stop my tongue from darting out to lick my lips. And I couldn't look away from his eyes that only moments before were bright and playful. Now, they were dark and serious. Just like that. Saying those two words had flipped the switch in him, even if he had been joking about his proposal. He was joking, right?

"I'm waiting."

My knees shook. And my response came out as a squeak. "Yes, Sir?"

"No, Lady Becca. I want an answer. Not another question."

His grip had tightened on my chin, which gave me a jolt of confidence. I straightened my spine, gulped, and said, "Yes, Sir."

"Very good. We'll talk about that later. But right now..." He parted the shirt to reveal my bare body from my breasts down to my pelvis. He growled as he stepped back, his grip and eyes dropping from my face.

I tried not to shiver or whimper as his gaze roamed over me. To not be embarrassed by any flaws I thought I had. I was his, and he was allowed to behold me at his leisure in whatever means he deemed suitable. He had told me that I should never be ashamed of my body. That we all had flaws, and we should embrace how they make us unique instead of focusing on why we aren't like other people in those aspects.

For several minutes, he just stared at me. I felt the heat creep up from between my thighs until it reached my breasts that became heavy with desire. My nipples puckered from the coolness of the room and the memories that rushed into my head of all the things he'd done to them. To me.

Then his towel fell to the floor. I heard the soft swish then plop and dared to dart my gaze down to verify that I had heard correctly. I don't know if he had released it, or if it had just come undone on its own. I was betting on the latter because my eyes caught his rigid member bobbing gently between his thick legs.

Oh. My. God. What a beautiful specimen!

"Don't move."

No two words had ever been so hard to follow.

He slid his hands under the fabric on my shoulders and pushed the shirt back. It slipped down my arms but caught on my wrists. He left it that way as he cupped one breast and lifted it to his mouth.

I stared at the top of his head, forcing my eyes to stay open as he teased my nipple with first his lips then his tongue and eventually his teeth. I had to bite my lower lip to tamper the whimpers when he abandoned the nipple and just caressed the swollen flesh. Then he moved to my other breast and repeated the process.

When he'd tortured them to his liking, he slid both hands down my sides while his tongue licked a trail between my breasts to my navel where he teased some more. He tugged on the shirt, using it to bring my body closer to him so he could he rub his nose against my pubic bone.

"Spread your legs, Lady Becca." His voice rough as he said my name. Someone was losing his composure.

I did as he asked with a little difficulty myself, then I felt his tongue wandering. I knew he'd reached my clit by the tingling sensation that sparked inside. He licked the same spot languidly, tugging the shirt free from my arms and gripping my hips instead. Eventually, he moved lower, and his hot breath swept against my inner thighs as his tongue slid into my heat and wetness. It took everything in me to stand upright, not to mention be still.

Just when I didn't think I could take much more, he stopped. He walked behind me, and I could hear him open a drawer. There was a scuffling sound as he moved things around. The drawer scraped closed again. Then he gripped my hand.

"Follow me."

He led me to the bed where he had me kneel on the mattress, facing away from him. First, he tied one end of a rope around my right wrist. Then he pulled my right arm behind my back, bent it, and did the same with my left arm so that it felt like I was crossing my arms behind my back instead of in front of me like I had been doing just minutes before. He secured my bound wrist to my left elbow and wrapped the rope around both forearms until he could secure my left wrist to my right elbow. Finally, he laced rope around my upper arms and across my back several times. The technique left only my hands free.

"Too tight?"

It was snug but not uncomfortable. "No, Sir."

Gently, he leaned me forward and situated my head on a pillow so I wouldn't suffocate. My nipples had stiffened to an aching peak during the process, and the pressure of my breasts against the mattress helped ease the pain as he arranged my lower extremities. My hair chose that moment to fall in front of my face. Although I could still breathe, I could no longer see. Joy.

When he seemed satisfied with his bondage work and my position, he repeatedly stroked his hands across my lower back, shoulders, and neck. Instead of arousing me, it relaxed my muscles, as was probably his intent. Occasionally, our sessions had become a little more—what was the word? hardcore?—both in activity and in time spent in our roles. If I wasn't relaxed, he said I could get injured. I knew I'd be in for a deep session whenever he massaged me beforehand ever since.

For several minutes, nothing happened. Was he just staring at me, my arms tied up and my ass raised in the air? I imagined how sexy he must look, standing there in his serious, naked dominance. Especially one particular part. That thought made my pelvic muscles contract.

It was probably six-thirty by now, if not almost seven. Neither one of us had to go to work today, but I did want to get back to the city to change prior to the party. That wasn't for several more hours, though. He could drag this out as long as he damned well pleased. But I did wonder how long we would be at it this time. Not that I minded, but I had a darling, sleeveless dress to wear tonight, and I really didn't want to have rope marks tattooing my arms.

I wasn't sure what he had planned. Was he going to spank me? Flog me? I liked the feather flogger. God, that was so kinky and arousing. Especially when he ran the feathers over my bared pussy.

Was he going to tease me with his tongue some more? Maybe use his fingers? Or would he use his cock? Would he fuck me or make love to me? Would he do all of the above? What kind of mood was he in this morning?

He made no sound, but I felt the bed shift under me. His hands rested low on my ass, fondling while his thumbs stroked my butt cheeks near where they curved down and inward toward my exposed pussy. The touch made me undulate a little.

He slapped my ass—a signal to be still—and continued. I concentrated on slow inhales and exhales. Once I'd relaxed again, the inside of his leg pressed against my right hip as he rubbed the tip of his cock against me several times before he pressed once and slid inside with ease.

I moaned long and low as he entered me. Shudders racked my body even after he'd bottomed out, his balls pressing against my mons. Then I shrieked as he smacked my ass again.

"Shh, Lady Becca. Bite the pillow, but don't make another sound unless it's to say the safe word. Wiggle your right hand if you understand."

I obeyed, and he slowly withdrew. My hands fisted as he penetrated again. He took his time, and I felt tears in my eyes by the time he'd worked up a rhythm. He stopped after several minutes and pulled me closer to the edge of the bed. Then he stood still, gripping my hips as he brought my ass back against him faster and faster. The sound of our panting was drowned out by the slapping of skin against skin.

I lost count of my orgasms after number five. Then I lost all sense of time. I could only feel. And feel I did. Whether it was him tugging on the ropes binding my arms like a horse's reins. Gripping my thighs as he took a break to cover my pussy with his mouth and lick me until I was shaking. Or fondling my breasts with his hands as he slowly pumped his hips against mine. It was glorious.

By the time he was done and had grunted his release across my ass, I had almost shredded the pillow with my teeth. I think I even had a couple of goose-down feathers in my mouth. I was sweaty, all of my appendages were numb, and my pussy felt like it had taken a beating.

He kissed my forehead. "Good girl, Becca."

I just moaned.

He cleaned me up, being very gentle on my overly-sensitized areas. When he finally released my arms, he massaged each one and laid me on my side. I mumbled contented sighs as he curled his body around mine under the covers to hold me as I came down from sub space.

He let me sleep until lunch, then we took a shower together before I headed back to the city to get ready. I had a party to attend! It wasn't until I was halfway home that I realized we had not actually discussed me moving in with him.

###

I smiled at my brother, Drake, and his fiancée, Daphne, who sat across from me that evening. I'd never seen my brother look so happy. He'd found the woman who could complete him in all manners, especially in the bedroom as his submissive. It was noisy in the bar, so I didn't hear what he said, but whatever it was, it made Daphne's eyes light up as she laughed.

Was that how I looked when Malcolm talked to me? Oh, how I loved being with him. Even when we weren't in a scene, I just wanted to please him all the time.

"You look like you're in sub space," a deep voice said in my ear as fingers caressed my bare arm.

I blinked and smiled at the topic of my thoughts where he sat on the stool beside me. "Only you would know that look."

"All too well." He turned my chin so I faced him, then he pressed his mouth to mine. His tongue darted out to lick at my lips as we parted.

I groaned in regret that the moment hadn't lasted longer, but he was talking to Drake now. It was better this way, anyway. I wouldn't have wanted to stop with a kiss. Not after the scene we'd shared that morning. I wanted a hell of a lot more of it.

Instead, I rested my chin on my fist, just drinking in the image of my boyfriend and Dominant partner as I twirled the tiny straw in my glass. He was so dreamy. And he was all mine. At least for as long as he'd have me.

Trust me, I wasn't the only female acting like a school girl with a crush that tonight. Even one of the bartenders had taken a shot at flirting with him, and she could have been my mother. But Malcolm made it clear he wasn't interested by putting his arm around my shoulders each time a new girl went out of their way to pass our table.

When Sue excused herself to visit the ladies' room, I told her I'd join her. We weaved our way through the crowd and waited in a line of noisy girls who didn't look old enough to be here. Either I was getting old, or the establishment was breaking the law. I imagine it was a little of both.

I finished first and stopped at the bar for a refill. I had placed my order and had just turned to check if Sue was still in the restroom when a tall, redheaded woman approached me. She was dressed in the minimalist of garments like most of the females tonight, but on her the style was tasteful. Her hair and makeup looked professionally done but not over the top. And the skirt and blouse, while tight and shimmery, hung on her body emphasizing all the right curves but not revealing too much.

The longer I stared at her, the more I thought she looked familiar. But I just couldn't place where I'd seen her before. In my line of work, faces tended to blend into one another unless you were around them every day.

"You're her, aren't you?" the redhead said as she fingered a gold necklace at her throat.

"Excuse me?" I dropped a five-dollar bill on the bar and turned back to the woman.

"Drake Alexander...er, Rebecca Rockingham." She glanced at her feet and then back up at me with a tilt of her head. "Right?"

I did a brief glance over her. I didn't see a camera. She probably wasn't paparazzi since she had to ask who I was, but I could never be too sure these days. "Why do you ask?"

"I was at your book signing. The one when you revealed who wrote the Dex Knightly books."

Ah. That narrowed the field down a little. Still, that was over a year ago, and there had been quite a turnout for the event. "Are you press or a fan?"

She shook her head then nodded. "I have all your books. Except the new one."

I laughed as I took a sip of my drink. "Have you read them, too?"

"What? Oh, yes! You're an excellent writer. I love how you keep the reader full of suspense. It's like I'm right there with the characters. Especially Dex."

"Would you like an autograph?" I set my drink down and grabbed a cocktail napkin out of a nearby holder. When I mimicked writing to the nearest bartender, he handed me a pen. I tore the napkin in two, signed one side of one half, and handed the pen and both pieces to the woman. "Sorry, this is all I have on me. But if you give me your name and address, I'll send you a signed copy of 'Triple Tease.' "