Page 18 of At Her Pleasure
She didn’t let herself twitch a muscle as Mick slid a finger along her jaw. “If you try to kiss me, I will bite you.”
“What if I bite you first?” he asked.
He shifted his hand to her arm, clasping her firmly enough to suggest she was being brought to a vehicle, and that she’d have to fight to escape him.
Her body tightened up. With no rules, no safewords, one of them could end up seriously hurt. She’d learned to stay away from these kinds of risks, had learned to play within the boundaries, even as she flirted with them.
With Mick, she didn’t have to worry about it. Because she trusted him. Which was stupid, because what she’d told the women was true. She didn’t know him now. Even as she was pretty sure she did.
As she’d said. Things didn’t have to make any fucking kind of sense for them to be right.
“Is that your thing?” She dragged her feet enough to increase his grip and earn a warning look. “Finding a girl to fight, and overpowering her? Or looking for one to overpower you?”
What she’d learned about watching primal play at the club told her it was normally important for the top to win. Otherwise, it wasn’t much of a charge for the bottom.
But he’d just said classifying things, putting a structure to them, wasn’t his thing. The unknown, the unpredictability, whetted her appetite too. Stirred her blood.
She sized up men as potential sparring opponents, even in scenarios where that wasn’t likely to happen, like client meetings. It gave her some good fantasy material during the boring parts.
Mick had acquired something more, beyond police training. He had the right tension and look in his eyes, that awareness. He was capable of whatever the moment called for. Having grown up in a violent world, she recognized it. Which she suspected was why he’d set off Tiger’s radar. Exactly what had he become once he’d stopped being a cop?
Security-related jobs for a friend.
Ten years could turn a man into a monster. But there was the wrong kind of monster and the right one.
“You don’t look like you’ve gotten any more cautious,” he responded. “You also look like you want a challenge outside those SSC walls.”
“How 1950s of you. Telling a woman what she wants.”
“It isn’t offensive to tell someone water is wet.”
"I'm more of a RACK girl. Risk aware, versus safe and sane. Or PRICK. Personal responsibility in consensual kink.”
"Shocking. I'd never have guessed." His gaze locked with hers, pure heat exchange. “Dreams of fighting with you have gotten me harder than any sex I’ve had since.”
A childish, nonsensical chant went through her head. The sky and his eyes are blue; water is wet…and so are you.
Yes, she was. His voice alone was doing it. The words were just added foreplay. “So you’re no longer a virgin. That’s good.”
He chuckled. His fingers were tight enough on her now to leave bruises. She didn’t mind. “I don’t do role play,” she added, notwithstanding the pseudo-kidnap scenario they were working.
“Me, neither.”
“No woods.”
They were moving toward the back of the parking lot, weaving around cars. “Wasn’t where I had in mind. But why not?”
“Too much nature gives me the creeps.”
“Okay.”
They’d reached the rear of the lot, and he stopped in front of the perfect vehicle to contain a captured victim.
Mick drove a motorhome.
It was an old model, thirty feet long and sporting a few dents. The dull ivory paneling had a three toned golden stripe down the side. It looked like something out of an eighties movie. “Is this home?”
“It’s where I live.” He opened up the side door. As he pocketed his keys, he gestured her to precede him up the steps to the interior. Once there, the parking lot lights coming through the narrow windows positioned up high showed her a horseshoe-shaped seating area around a table. She assumed it could be lowered and covered with extra cushions to form a bed. To her right was a kitchenette and the driving area.