BlackBoys and their Toy

orgasms for information isn’t their usual way of doing business, but when a missing criminal-turned-star-witness and fifty grand are on the line, bounty hunter R. A. Thorn and Detective Cameron Martinez are prepared to put their bodies to the task and give gorgeous Brenna Sheridan everything she needs.exchange they never anticipated becomes an experience none can forget—or walk away from. Sexual hunger sizzles the threesome, but the stakes and danger rise as a mafia bad-ass stalks Brenna., their “deal” is no longer about information—or sex. Emotions bind Brenna, Cam and Thorn together more tightly than they ever imagined as the men protect—and serve—the beloved woman neither can live without.

Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

One

“Now that we’re out in the middle of nowhere, crouched outside a house I’ve never seen, you want to tell me why you dragged my ass here?” Detective Cameron Martinez glared over his right shoulder, through the inky mountain darkness, at bounty hunter R. A. Thorn.

“Julio Marco’s trial starts next week. No one can find the star witness.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Cam clenched his fists, hard-pressed to keep his voice to a furious whisper. “Without Curtis Lawton, the D.A. doesn’t have much of a case, Julio Marco will go free, and my ass will be in a sling.”

“Yeah? I’m Lawton’s bail bondsman, and he’s not checking in like he promised. If he fails to appear I’m out something close to fifty grand. That’s not chump change.”

True, but at least Thorn wouldn’t have to explain to the victims smuggled from Mexico and sold into slavery why Julio Marco, the man responsible for their torment, wasn’t going to prison for a very long time, as promised. Or why Curtis Lawton, the man who helped Marco, was nowhere to be found. That would fall on Cam’s shoulders.

“It wasn’t my idea to give the asshole the option of bailing out. Judge Nelson needs to have his head examined. And I advised you against posting Lawton’s bond, if you recall.”

Thorn shrugged. “I knew he was a flight risk. I had no doubt he’d do whatever necessary to avoid prison time and those unsavory pals of his who know he’s turned snitch. But I’ve hunted him before. That’s why we’re here. I found him in this cozy little bungalow last year, boffing out his girlfriend’s brains.”

“This her place?”

Thorn shook his head, the long ends of his golden hair brushing his wide, solid shoulders. “His. He moves girlfriends in to fuck them, and out once they’re history. I did a drive-by earlier today. He’s got a new hottie shacked up here. Pretty, young thing. Little, long brown hair, world-class ass. Lawton has crappy taste in occupations but good taste in women.”

Who cared what she looked like? “Can you please keep your dick out of a conversation for once?”

Thorn’s icy eyes mocked him through the darkness. “Sure, Saint Cam. As soon as the little woman makes her appearance, let’s see if you can keep your dick out of the conversation. I’m telling you, she’s fucking gorgeous.”

Right now, Cam cared about the fact that come next Monday, if Curtis Lawton didn’t live up to his plea deal and testify against Julio Marco, his former boss, two years of Cam’s work would be down the toilet. And a lot of young Mexican Nationals who endured utter hell on earth after being guaranteed a golden ticket to the promised land would be left without justice. It figured that Thorn couldn’t get his mind off sex for more than ten minutes strung together. Why should anything be different today?

“Whatever.” Cam felt free to roll his eyes in the dark. “What’s the plan?”

“We wait. As smokin’ as this woman is, good ol’ Curtis won’t stay away long. I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

That went without saying. Thorn constantly thought with his penis. But he also never thought about the same woman more than a handful of times. Good thing for him he was a good-looking SOB who could melt a woman’s panties on looks alone. Thorn was long on bad-boy temper and short on sensitivity and charm.

“I don’t care if she’s Miss America,” Cam returned. “She’s being kept by a scumbag and making her living on her back by servicing a criminal. The idea of taking Lawton’s sloppy seconds doesn’t get me hot.”

“You’re too picky. It’s a miracle you ever get laid.”

“It’s a miracleyou get laid,” Cam countered. “It’s so impersonal for you, it’s like a drive-through window, man. `Would you like just the screwing, or do you want the combo package? That comes with a nipple squeeze and a tongue fuck.’”

“No one’s had the need to ask me to supersize in order to get off.” Thorn bristled. “I haven’t heard complaints.”

“You don’t stay around long enough to know if there are any. I know you’re never going to tell me your full name, but do you make every woman you nail call you by your last name? Or is it like all your legal documents, Mr. R. A. Thorn?”

“Fuck you. They don’t need to know my full name to get off. And I’m not there for arelationship . It’s just sex.” He scowled. “Are we here to catch Lawton or hash out my personal life?”

Cam shook his head. As much as it pained him to admit it, Thorn was right. The man’s fast-food sex life was none of his business. It certainly wasn’t what he would have chosen, and he had suspicions that the big blond hulk was achingly lonely, but would never admit it. And Cam couldn’t make him.

“Let’s catch Lawton. Do we know anything about his girlfriend?”

“Other than her fine ass or the fact she has the kind of tits that make a grown man beg, no.”

Figured Thorn didn’t get a name. Half the time he didn’t bother when he took a woman to bed. Why learn the name of one he hadn’t even touched?

Before Cam could answer, the ground lights flipped on at the back of the bungalow, casting a muted golden glow over the trail to the pool. Then a willowy woman emerged, wearing a thin white robe belted around her small waist. She held a towel in one hand, a glass of wine in the other. Shutting the door behind her, she sashayed down the trail to the pool, closer to their hiding spot in the dusty bushes.

After setting her towel on the chaise and her wine on a nearby table, the woman checked to make sure her hair was still secured on top of her head by some clip Cam couldn’t see. Satisfied, she gazed up at the vast black desert sky and its many blinking stars, the majestic view unfettered by the city’s lights. She smiled faintly—then dropped her robe. She was completely naked.

Cam sucked in a breath.

“Holy shit,” Thorn muttered beside him, his voice suddenly sounding as if he’d been eating gravel. “I was hard just wondering what she had on under that thing. But now…”

He had been, too, Cam admitted silently. But seeing the real thing, her endless ivory skin, pert handfuls of breasts with wide nipples, the graceful curve of her hips… Holy shit seemed like an understatement. Despite the fact she was willingly sleeping with one of the worst dregs of society, Cam still felt a pull to her he could barely process. For once, he and Thorn agreed on something.

“Shh,” he said instead.

No need to admit that he wanted her too. If she was the kind of woman who’d let a creep like Lawton pay her bills in exchange for sex, she was the kind of woman who would fall for Thorn’s casual sex line. In other words, easy. Cam knew he’d still be trying to learn her name and something about her by the time Thorn was zipping up his pants and saying goodbye.

Thankfully, Thorn didn’t make more conversation. His gaze appeared permanently glued to the woman’s nipples, hard from a light teasing by the cool evening breeze, which was finally tolerable now that October was only days away.

Without hesitation, she swayed toward the pool and stepped into the water with a long, low sigh.

The ache in Cam’s groin tightened at the sound. Did she make little sounds like that when she was aroused?

Beside him, Thorn growled.

“Shh,” he reminded with a glare.

Thorn totally ignored him.

The beauty submerged until only her head remained above the surface. She kicked from one end of the pool to the other, moving with a slow grace, unhurried, as if she had all the time in the world to devote to this pleasure—or any other.

Unfortunately, Cam was all too aware that he didn’t have all the time in the world. The trial started in mere days.

“As enjoyable as this is,” he whispered to Thorn, “how is watching Miss America here get naked going to help us find Lawton?”

“Like I said, you don’t think he’ll stay away long from her, do you?”

No. Good point. In fact, he was no more than twenty feet away from her and pissed off that bushes and dark water obscured his view of her amazing body. He could only imagine how a man who’d touched every contour and sampled every inch would miss those graceful, supple curves.

With a long sigh, she swam to the edge of the pool and ascended the stairs, hips and sweet ass swinging as she made her way up, until she was completely exposed to the night air.

With quick efficiency, she patted herself down with the towel. Cam had never been so envious of terrycloth. Then she tossed back the rest of her wine in one quick swallow and lay on the chaise, face raised to the silvery moon.

Gorgeous. Like a goddess. All toned limbs and soft skin, with a graceful curve to her neck, an intriguing tilt of her head. She looked untouched. Untouchable.

Until she planted her feet on either side of the chaise, parting the firm length of her thighs, and smoothed a palm down her soft abdomen—and right between her legs.

“Fuck,” Thorn snarled under his breath.

Cam clenched his jaw. Again, he had to agree, especially when she made lazy circles with her fingers over her mound.

Under her touch, her hips moved slowly, restlessly. Her head fell back, exposing the column of her white throat. Her pouty mouth parted and her breath caught on a gasp.

She moaned.

“Fuck.”

“Shh,” Cam reminded Thorn again, though he noticed his own tone was definitely more than raspy. Funny how a raging hard-on could change a man’s voice.

Thorn clenched his jaw, looking ready to charge through the bushes, rip off his pants, and fuck her blind. That wasn’t Cam’s usual style, but the idea now held major appeal.

Especially when she moaned again and plunged her fingers into her pussy. Wishing he could see her better was quickly becoming an obsession. He wanted her so bad he hurt. How wet was she? Did she shave or wax? Was she swollen? Did her fingers fill her hungry sex? How tightly would her pussy grip his cock?

“Bet the carpet matches the drapes,” Thorn whispered.

Cam didn’t usually care about such things—it was the person inside who mattered to him—but in this case, something about the woman made all the rules different. And he suspected Thorn was right. There didn’t seem to be anything artificial about her, from the unaffected sensual sway of her hips to the natural weight of her firm breasts, now rising and falling more rapidly.

A sharp, sudden catch of her breath split the tense night air. Cam swallowed a groan and feared his cock would bust out of his jeans when she spread her knees wider and again raised her hips to her invading fingers.

“Fuck!” Thorn whispered harshly, adjusting his erection in his pants.

The bounty hunter’s frustration might be funny, if Cameron wasn’t in the same situation. Damn, a few minutes of watching her touch herself and already his balls felt tight, like he could shoot off at any moment. He wasn’t some damn randy teenager, but watching her made him feel like one.

Her breaths got shorter, harsher. She worked herself furiously—until Cam was breathing hard, felt himself sweating, despite the sixty-degree evening.

“That’s it, baby,” Thorn coached in a whisper. “Fuck yourself. Deeper. Oh, yeah. God, she looks sexy. I’m so damn hard, I could pound nails.”

“Just don’t ask her if she needs any help.”

The woman raised one hand to a hard nipple stabbing its way into the cool desert air and pinched it. She gave another long, low moan that had Cam biting his lip.

“Wouldn’t dream of interrupting,” Thorn murmured. “Hell of a floor show. Let her get nice and wet and pliant, then I’ll offer to soothe her with my tongue.”

“TMI,” he muttered.

But the conversation ended when she shoved her fingers even harder into her pussy, grabbed her nipple in a hard pinch, then gyrated, moaning in a series of whimpers.

She looked poised on the edge, ready to explode at any moment. Cam held his breath, grasping the edge of sanity as he watched her fast movements grow frantic, almost panicked.

She let loose a frustrated wail. Even at this distance, he could see her trembling thighs, her body so taut that every muscle vibrated with need.

But she didn’t come.

“Can’t she get off?” Thorn asked.

The beauty answered that question with a jerk back of her head, a pounding of her fists on rigid thighs, and a discouraged cry that echoed through the little courtyard.

Moments later, the cry became a sob as she gathered her knees to her chest and lowered her face until all he could see was the thick coil of her caramel-colored hair and her shoulders shaking with the force of her tears.

Her aroused mewling had reached out and gripped his cock with need and impatience. This…her sobs, they clawed at his gut, tore at his heart.

A hand on his shoulder startled him. He turned to Thorn in question.

“Sit back down, Dr. Phil, or she’ll see you. You can’t go barging over there to dry her tears. You’ll blow our cover to hell.”

Cam nodded, taking a deep breath. He’d been so far gone with the desire to hold her and help her, he’d nearly given their presence away? Not good. At all. But he couldn’t deny that some part of him ached to kiss the lushness of her mouth that darkness only hinted at, replace her fingers with his, then watch her come apart in his arms. He’d keep her tight against him if the need for tears came again.

The urge was utterly stupid.

Exhaling raggedly, Cam clenched shaking hands into fists. She was a criminal’s mistress. Whatever her issue was, it was none of his.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

Thorn was already on another subject. “Think she needs pain to get off? I know from seeing Lawton’s last honey that he sure can dish it out.”

Grimacing, Cam tried to avoid a mental image of this beauty begging toilet scum like Lawton to hurt her. But he couldn’t discount the possibility that Thorn was right. What other explanation was there for her inability to orgasm?

“I don’t know but it’s not why we’re here. Let’s focus.”

“Hard to focus when all the blood in my body has gone south of my belt buckle.” Thorn grimaced.

Cam rolled his eyes. “Manage—quick. We need a plan. I hate to tip my hand too early by dropping in to question her.”

“But we’re running out of time.”

“Yeah.” Cam couldn’t ignore that reality.

Lawton’s girlfriend sniffled and lifted her face to the desert night. Silvery tears marred the smooth apples of her cheeks. He couldn’t see her eyes in the dark but the sadness that bounced off her, the despair that ate at her—he could feel it, thick and dark. Dejection pulled at her shoulders as she rose slowly, taking the towel in one hand, empty glass of wine in the other.

Even a view of her heart-stopping ass couldn’t cut through Cam’s urgent need to hold her, help her. Something was completely wrong, and he was dying to know what.

But she disappeared into the house without giving him a single clue.

At his side, Thorn released a long, hard breath. Cam wondered how long he’d been holding it.

“That girl needs to get off. Bad. I volunteer help, even if it takes all night.” Thorn’s sly grin grated on his nerves.

“Shut up, you moron. She doesn’t just need to come. Whatever is bothering her is deeper than an orgasm will solve.”

“Not my problem.”

“Fuck them and forget them, huh? Nice motto.” Sarcasm grated his voice.

Thorn gritted his teeth. “I can’t stand you pussies who are in touch with your emotions.”

“I can’t stand you assholes who can’t think past your cock.”

Silence descended, a full five minutes of it. In that time, crickets chirped, frogs croaked, while the desert wind kicked dust up into the bushes providing their cover. Lawton’s girlfriend turned out the lights at the back of the bungalow.

And Cam felt guilty. He and Thorn had been acquaintances for a long time. Not great friends. Thorn never let anyone very close. But still, sort of friends. Squabbling over the man’s sex life was stupid. Neither one of them would likely ever have sex with Lawton’s girlfriend—much less get to help her with her orgasm deficit, more’s the pity.

Before he could open his mouth, Thorn said. “Fuck this, dude. Let’s get back to the case. I want to keep my fifty thou and you need your witness for court.” He hesitated, looked away. “You’re one of the few friends I’ve got. I don’t want some chick getting in the way of that.”

Cam turned to Thorn, and he knew shock was all over his face. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

His stare turned glacial. “Don’t try to interpret my emotions, pussy.”

That was like asking Cam not to breathe. He probably knew them better than Thorn himself did. Then again, Cam had four sisters. If he hadn’t learned to think emotionally, he would never have survived to adulthood.

“Whatever, asshole,” he said. “I think we wait twenty-fours, then see if Lawton shows up. If not, I’ll pull out my badge and pay his pretty little mistress a visit.”

* * * * *

Brenna Sheridan saw nothing but red.

Rearing back, she eyed the big punching bag dangling from the ceiling, the tight grip of the boxing gloves around her wrists a familiar bite. She swung, putting every bit of her fury and frustration into the punch. Her fist connected with a satisfying thud, and the red bag dipped and swung. The impact of the blow shot fire up her arm. With clenched teeth, she grunted, but Brenna refused to feel pain. She’d been at this for an hour, and she wasn’t done.

Leaning back on her right leg, she kicked her left out to the bag, connecting with a vicious jolt that sent a punishing thud echoing through the room and a thrill of satisfaction zinging through her.

Sweat poured down her temples, between her breasts, down her back, dampening her white tank and black spandex shorts. Tendrils of hair floated near her face, having escaped the haphazard clip she’d shoved them into. With a toss of her head, they disappeared, leaving her free to step forward and punch out with another hard jab at the offending bag.

She pretended instead it was Curtis Lawton’s head.

Rude, insensitive, downright stupid… Then again, he’d been that way for years. She shouldn’t be at all surprised. He’d come around—but in his time, his way. He always did.

Brenna danced around the bag, balancing on the balls of her feet, before she lashed out with a fierce right kick. Because of him, she didn’t trust men, didn’t know how to really be herself when she was with them. She’d let him get in her head and mess with her mind. Stupid! And last night… Damn, by the pool with the stars twinkling, a glass of wine relaxing her body, she’d still been unable to come! And the source of her problems? Gone. Would a phone call hurt the man? He’d kept her at arm’s length in Texas forever. He’d occasionally sent birthday gifts and actually called last Christmas. Nothing else. So she’d come to him here in Arizona. She’d been here all of fifteen minutes, and what did he do? Disappear.

Bastard.

This morning, the reason for his behavior had become crystal clear. She’d read the morning paper, and dear Curtis’ name was plastered all over the front pages with lurid headlines:Local man to turn evidence in slavery ring.

Brenna had read on in shock. What the hell had he gotten himself into? According to the article, he’d helped smuggle young Mexican men and women into the U.S., then forcing them to work for a pittance in everything from sweatshops to underground bordellos. The whole thing turned her stomach.

After ensconcing her in this pretty little house in the middle of nowhere, he’d vanished, so it wasn’t like she could ask him any questions. He’d merely given her some warnings that made no sense—go nowhere, trust no one, say nothing. Then he’d gone.

Breathing hard, Brenna jerked her arm back and thrust it forward again, landing another solid strike directly on the heavy red bag. Her shoulder ached and her body trembled from the exertion but it felt good. Even if it didn’t do much to calm her mind.

What in the hell was she going to do about Curtis?

A loud, impatient pounding on the little bungalow’s front door snapped Brenna’s head around. She hesitated, her breathing harsh. If Curtis had returned, he would have just barged in.

That meant a stranger knew she was here. Out in the remote mountains of this austere desert, it wasn’t as if she had any neighbors welcoming her to the area with a plate of cookies. Whoever hammered on the door with a rough fist definitely wasn’t female or here for a friendly chat.

Too bad for them she was in a foul mood and had no intent to let anyone screw with her.

Drawing off her boxing gloves as more impatient raps on the door resounded through the place, Brenna darted down the hall and searched the French Provincial nightstand in the sumptuous bedroom until she found what she was looking for. Ah, a Beretta. Lovely semiautomatic favored by military and law enforcement. Curtis did love his guns.

This ought to deter her uninvited guest.

With a smile and the gun clutched tightly in her fist, Brenna sauntered to the front door.

Two

Brenna yanked the door open, the Beretta firmly gripped in one hand. Bad attitude, as only a Texas girl raised with macho alpha male cousins can conjure, was stamped all over her face. She wasn’t sure what she expected. Leather-wearing goons with jagged scars on their faces, maybe? Nothing, though, could have prepared her for the man who stood under the dim porch light, badge in hand.

Tall. So striking she couldn’t breathe for fully thirty seconds. Wow! Six-two…six-three. He towered way, way above her. Hair a silky, unrelieved black that looked as if it had been cut short once, months ago, then left to hang loose to brush his collar and tangle across his wide forehead. Bronzed skin covered the landscape of an angular face, complete with a sharp jaw, a sensually sculpted mouth, and killer cheekbones bequeathed to him by some Apache ancestor. Eyes a swirl of mysterious colors, like whiskey with chocolate made smoky by a hint of sin lurking just under his calm facade.

Dear Lord, had she ever seen a more gorgeous man?

Shoulders nearly as wide as the doorframe stretched a tight gray t-shirt to the brim with muscles that bulged and rippled, despite the fact he did nothing more than breathe. Without conscious thought, her gaze strayed lower, over ridged abdominal muscles that even clothing couldn’t conceal. And lower…to an impressive bulge nestled in clinging jeans that had faded in the most intriguing places. Forcing her gaze down again, she took in scuffed black western boots.

This guy gave the motto “Ride `em, cowboy” a whole new meaning.

He cleared his throat. “Ma’am, I’m Detective Cameron Martinez of the Tucson Police Department.”

Detective, not just a beat cop. With what Curtis was into, it was a miracle they hadn’t sent Border Patrol, INS, FBI, and a slew of other government agencies. But no, just the one absolutely amazing, beyond drool-worthy hunk.

“Would you mind putting the gun down?” he asked, his voice soft and forceful at once.

Oh, Lord! She’d been so busy gawking at the man, she’d forgotten she was pointing a weapon at him.

With an awkward smile, Brenna reached around and placed the Beretta on the small table against the wall on her left—but still within reach. “Out here all alone, a girl can’t be too careful. How can I help you, Detective?”

Brenna tried to play it cool. Tried like crazy. Hard to seem calm with a trembling voice, damn it. He was going to ask her questions. And she wasn’t a good liar. If she screwed this up, what the hell would happen to Curtis? Of course, if he did half of what he was accused of doing, he deserved to do hard time, but she needed his help before someone sent him behind bars. After last night, she knew she needed help real bad.

Besides, Curtis had told her not to trustanybody, even the police. For all she knew, Detective Martinez was a dirty cop.

Her unexpected visitor simply sent her a questioning glance, then changed the subject. “Can I come in and ask you a few questions?”

“Am I in trouble?”

She was stalling. Damn it, a story, some story—a believable one to throw him off track. She needed one now. No one would believe what Curtis told her to say…

“Not at all,” he soothed.

“Um, as you can see, I’m in no shape for visitors.” She looked down at her own sweaty garments and grimaced. “Maybe later?”

Great first impression. Pointing a gun at the man while looking—and smelling—her worst. Now she had to choose between putting him off or lying about a criminal. She doubted there’d be any first dates in their future.

“It won’t take long, ma’am. Or I don’t mind waiting if you want to clean up first.”

And let him look around Curtis’ little hideaway while she showered? Not a good idea.

“Well, if it won’t take long, now is fine.” She stepped back to admit him.

Now what?Brenna blew out a deep breath, her mind racing. Calm. Yes, she had to stay calm. Or Mr. Tall, Dark and Unsettling would pick her apart in twenty words or less.

She led him to the small living room at the front of the house and perched on the edge of a chair. He chose the sofa across the room and stared at her with those unusual swirling eyes, giving away nothing of his thoughts.

Intense. Quiet. Perfect descriptions of him. “Gotta watch out for the quiet ones,” Aunt Jeanne had always said. Looking at the detective, Brenna suddenly understood why and couldn’t have agreed more.

“Can I get you something to drink?” She stalled again.

“No, ma’am.”

“Brenna, please. When you say ma’am, I start looking for my aunt.”

A corner of his mouth tipped up. And what a mouth! She’d been so mesmerized by his eyes earlier, she’d barely acknowledged the wide mouth that looked oh-so capable of sin.

“Brenna.”

His deep, smooth voice gave her shivers. How would his whisper sound in her ear as he was thrusting deep inside her?

No. He was here to ask questions, not seduce her. She should be coming up with a believable story, not fantasizing.

“Last name?” he asked.

“Sheridan.”

“You live here?”

“I’d planned to visit, stay awhile. But I’m from Texas originally.”

That smile on his lips crept up a little farther. His eyes warmed. “I gathered that from your sweet southern accent.”

Brenna tried not to blush under the weight of his gaze. Impossible. His stare centered on her, not exactly sexual…but not purely professional either. Especially when his gaze dipped for just a moment from her face to her breasts. Shit! She was wearing a thin white tank top, damp with sweat, and no bra. Knowing those enigmatic eyes of his were trained on her breasts hardened her nipples. Brenna didn’t have to look down to know that they stabbed the front of her shirt, impossible to miss, and that he was getting an eyeful. From the subtle appreciation in his gaze, he liked what he saw. But to confirm, she lowered her lashes—and looked at the front of his jeans. Holy cow! Up straight, beyond hard. And his size…he’d crossed the line from impressive to imposing.

So the good detective realized she was female. That gave her an idea.

“Southern accent?” She batted her lashes at him. “I don’t hear it. Everyone I know sounds like me.”

He laughed, discreetly drawing his gaze back to her face. But his stare remained heavy, as if she was a puzzle he needed to solve. As if he knew just enough about her to intrigue him.

“Who are you visiting?”

“Curious?” she asked in soft challenge, shooting him a flirtatious gaze. “Why is that?”

“Not because I’m flirting, Brenna.” His expression turned neutral. “It’s my job.”

Yes, his job. Of course. Well, she’d apparently failed in the subtle department. Being too obvious in her attempt to distract him from questioning her—not good. She held in a sigh. Well, lacking a better idea, there was always Curtis’ story…

“I’m visiting Curtis Lawton. This is his place. But you knew that, Detective.”

He acknowledged that truth with a nod. “What is your relationship with him?”

“I’m his mistress but I think you knew that too.”

The detective paused, pondering his next words. “Lawton is much older than you.”

“And much wealthier.”

His jaw clenched. His biceps hardened and bulged with tension. But his eyes betrayed nothing. “How did you meet?”

“Mutual acquaintance. How is this relevant?”

“Do you know where he is?”

“At the moment? No.”

“Do you have a way to reach him?”

“No. He…drops in when the mood strikes him.”

“You don’t even have a cell phone number? An email address?”

“I’m not his secretary. And I’m not in love with him. I’m merely a convenience for him. He comes by when he wants to take advantage of that fact.”

He paused, mouth pressed into a thin line. For some reason, her answer pissed him off. Interesting…

“You’re a beautiful woman who could do better.”

Wow, talk about a change in tactics. Now what? She could usually think of a flippant answer, but not when his stare heated up and fastened on her. Not when his scorching gaze caressed her mouth, drifted down her jaw then returned for a long, unabashed stare at the hard tips of her breasts poking her tank top. His stare only made them harder. Brenna sucked in a breath.

“I’m interested in someone…good.”

Sure, he would take that to mean Curtis, but she’d love to explore that possibility with the good detective. He looked very, very good, with all that amazing appeal and equipment. Maybe with him she could climax. She could just imagine him without a stitch of clothes walking toward her, all hard body and stiff cock, tall and demanding in that silent way of his.

Oh, just the thought was making her wet.

He crossed his arms over his massive chest. His gaze turned laser-sharp, unwavering. Nerves danced in her belly, arousal danced lower.

“I see,” he answered in a slow drawl. “I just never thought of his predilection as good, and you don’t look like you’d be into that.”

Oh, hell. What else was Curtis into that she didn’t know about? “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Fair enough.” He shrugged. “On a purely personal note, since you’re into his scene, what does he do that turns you on? I’m curious. Can you describe it?”

His face remained blank, but something about the way he delivered the question challenged Brenna.Shit! He was toying with her, playing a game of cat and mouse. Now he was springing the trap. Clearly, he knew something about Curtis’ life that she didn’t. This cover story Curtis had suggested was a stupid one, and she’d known that from the get-go.

Brenna stood and sent him a frosty glare. “That question is a little too personal, Detective.”

He unfolded his well-muscled body from the sofa and stood, then crossed her room until he stood right in front of her. “C’mon, we’re adults. Tell me what you like about the things he does to your body.”

Not a clue. She didn’t even want to think about what Curtis did. “E—everything.”

“Hmm. That right?”

The detective sent her a long, measured glance. He didn’t say a word, but Brenna feared he didn’t believe her.

Close. He was too close. So close she couldn’t think of anything to say that would convince him, not without knowing Curtis’ “scene”. So close, she could smell the musky, summer-rain scent of his body. Clean and but complicated—a lot like she suspected the man himself was.

She swallowed, caught in his dark stare. “Yes, that’s exactly right.”

He moved so fast, Brenna never had a moment to fight back. One minute she stood facing Detective Martinez, the next…she could feel him all along her back. He’d grabbed her arm, whirled her around, snaked a heavily veined forearm about her waist, and dragged her against his hard-muscled body, his erection pressed firmly against her ass.

Then he cupped her breast in his hand, just like that. Boom, he was touching her intimately. And she liked it. Loved it.

Brenna gasped. God, his hands were hot and enormous, covering her whole breast. His harsh exhalations on her neck sent shivers down her spine.

Cat and mouse, she reminded herself.This is some sort of game to him .

“What the hell are you doing?” she snapped.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he took her stiff nipple between his thumb and finger—and gave it a cruel squeeze.

“Ouch!”

She wriggled for freedom—with no luck. His hold was unyielding, absolute.

“Get your hands off me!” she shouted.

“You didn’t like that?” His silky question taunted her as he relaxed his grip on her nipple.

“No. Let me go, damn it!”

“Ah, I understand,” he breathed into her ear, strumming the pebbled tip with his thumb.

Back and forth, over and over, until tingles leapt and sizzled within her breast. Her knees nearly buckled. Her stomach jumped with a bolt of thrill. He most certainly did understand if just the soft pad of his thumb against her nipple made her wet.

Against her better judgment, a moan escaped her.

“I’ll bet you need it harder.”

Before she could protest, he squeezed her nipple with even more force than before. She yelped, her body going rigid. She blindly lashed out with her feet, trying to connect with his shins, instep—anything to make him let go.

“No! It hurts. Stop!”

Instantly, he released her and stepped away.

“Not your cup of tea?” he drawled.

“You bastard! I didn’t ask you to—to grope me. That’s got to be against rules or regulations or something. I’m going to call, find out who your boss is, and have your balls on a platter.”

That little smile tilted the corners of his mouth again. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to talk to you. Of course, they’ll ask you about Curtis too. And they may not be as patient as I am. They might just take you right down to the station and see if you’d rather talk from behind bars. Aiding and abettingis a crime.” He shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

He didn’t even wait for her reply. Instead, the infuriating, gorgeous man stepped around her, leaving her gaping.

At the door, he turned around. “Oh, and when you talk to Curtis, tell him he’d better show up to the courthouse on Monday.”

Then he left, and she stood there and in stunned silence, torn between ogling the scrumptious view of his backside and worrying that he’d call a whole passel of cops…who’d be a hell of a lot less kind if they suspected she’d lied.

* * * * *

When Cam dropped by the trailer, Thorn could see he was agitated. And sported a hard-on he couldn’t miss.

This ought to be interesting.

He smiled at the thought and perched the corner of his ass on the rickety metal table in his six-by-six kitchen. “So what happened?”

Ducking to enter the little trailer, Cam slammed the door behind him and crossed the room, shooting him a glare of pure venom. He reached for the fridge, took out a longneck, and tossed half of it down his throat. “Damn it!”

“I followed you and tried to watch through my binoculars, but once you went inside,nada . So spill it. What went down? Any good news?”

“She’s lying about virtually everything.”

“Shit. I was hoping for some good news. She looked freshly fucked when she opened the door.”

Cam glared, and Thorn kept his grin to himself. Yanking the chain on the man’s temper was just too easy. “She’d been exercising. Did you notice that she greeted me with a gun in her hand?”

“Hmm. Missed that. Too busy looking at her tits.”

Gritting his teeth, Cam shook his head, then he drained the rest of the bottle. “She told me her name and the fact she’s from Texas. She admitted that she knows Lawton. Those are the only things I believe. After that, the truth got murky. She claims she’s Lawton’s mistress.”

Thorn crossed his arms over his chest. If there was one thing he’d learned to appreciate about Cam over the last few years, it was the man’s instinct. He’d risen through the ranks fast to become detective because he paid attention, could think with cool logic, and because he just seemed to understand people and see under their surfaces in a way Thorn envied and couldn’t possibly duplicate.

“What makes you think it’s bullshit? Lawton does like them young and hot. She qualifies.”

“She was nervous, not only like she was hiding something. Nervous like she was confused. She tried to dodge me with flirtation. When it didn’t work, she tried a bit of the ice princess routine, but she fumbled with it.”

“Like, she’s not that type?”

“Yeah. But the kicker… You’re sure Lawton is into giving pain and wants women who can take it?”

“With what I saw last year, no question. He made sure when he fucked the bitch that he was causing her loads of pain. Floggers, nipple clamps, the whole nine yards. And she was lapping it up.”

“Then the woman I just talked to isn’t his mistress. She isnot into pain.”

“How’d you figure that out?” He drilled, wishing like hell he’d been a fly on the wall, watching Cam press the pretty liar for the truth and lose his control… He got hard just thinking about it.

“You’re not getting details, pervert. I’ll just say that, at one point, she wanted my balls on a platter.”

“Holy shit, you go alpha on her?” Nowthat was a sight he’d pay money to see. Cam alpha. Who’da thunk it?

Despite his teasing yesterday, Thorn knew his pal did real well with the ladies. The few he knew Cam had taken to bed all sighed and swooned and flushed when he entered a room. They were fucking starstruck. He damn near laughed watching them try to get Cam’s attention. They used words like “gentle” and “patient” and “perceptive”. But Thorn had long suspected Cam had a kick-ass alpha side that some woman would bring out someday—when she rattled his cage enough.

And Thorn did love to see Cam with his cage rattled.

Cam looked away with a guilty expression. “I pushed her a little.”

“She made you hard as hell.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m not proud of it. But I proved that she’s not into pain. Does it automatically mean, though, that she’s not his mistress? I mean, sheis living in his fortress of fornication.”

Thorn laughed. “Yeah, but if she isn’t into pain, then she isn’t Lawton’s little honey. I think Lawton needs to dish out pain to get off.”

“Maybe. If we assume this woman isn’t his mistress, it begs the question, why is she there and why would she lie?”

“Yeah, and if she doesn’t need pain to get off, why couldn’t she come last night?”

“Who the hell knows?” He sighed. “It’s not relevant, anyway. We need to find out what her connection to Lawton is.”

“Yeah, just not as much fun.” Thorn winked. “Does she know where he is?”

Hesitating, Cam appeared to ponder the question, weigh things in his mind. “That one…maybe. She said no, but that was also when the ice princess act started. I think we go with the assumption that she’s gotsome clue.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Thorn nodded. “And if she does, she’ll tell him we’re sniffing around.”

“Lawton should know we’re after him, anyway.”

“True. Well, give her a few hours, go back there, and try her again. Maybe she’ll cough up the truth.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to.”

“It won’t work. She’s hiding something, I’m sure of it. But she also knows I’m on to her. I had to do something…questionable to get the little bit of information she gave me. To get more, I’d probably have to do something that could get me arrested.”

“Nah, man. You couldn’t just question her? She could fuck up when you do, Cam. You can wear her down. I’ve seen you do it with suspects. Just use all that cool patience.”

“Around her, I don’t have any.” With a sigh, Cam rose, paced. “She’s too…soft and curved. Hell, she fit right against me. That sweet Texas accent of hers went straight to my cock.”

Thorn laughed. “Now you know how the rest of us guys live. Welcome to reality.”

“This is serious!” Cam snarled. “If I’d spent another ten minutes alone with her, I would have found some way to get her clothes off, get her on her back, and fuck her senseless.”

Grinning, Thorn decided then that’s exactly what should happen…as long as he had a ringside seat. “Do you think she knows you’re watching her every move?”

“Damn it, stop smiling. This is not good! Of course she knows I’m watching. She’s not stupid.”

Of course she wasn’t. Even better. She’d give ol’ Cam the runaround, make him hard and crazy. Make him see how every other red-blooded man lived his life. Maybe then, Cam would shut up about how much Thorn lived his life through his dick.

“And if you try to visit so you can question her again,” Thorn said, “Even if you could keep your dick to yourself, she’s simply not going to answer, right?”

“That pretty much sums it up. I need another beer. Then I need to get my head together and figure out what the hell to do.”

Thorn couldn’t miss the fact that, when Cam stood again and yanked the fridge door open, his erection stood as tall and thick as it had the minute he entered the trailer door.

“Well, if you tried your way of questioning her and didn’t get all the information…” Thorn retrieved his Glock, his sunglasses, and the keys to his Harley from the rickety kitchen table. Then he flashed Cam a dangerous smile. “Maybe it’s time for me to question her. My way.”

Three

Brenna woke suddenly, to the feel of something around her ankle. Her cat? Winky rarely left her hiding places long enough to fraternize with the enemy. Was she cold?

Fighting sleep, Brenna managed to crack open her eyes. With a frown, she glanced around the dark, shadowed room. Where was she? Certainly not in her own bedroom.

Then it clicked—Arizona. The bedroom in Curtis’ bungalow.

Which meant that Winky was back in Muenster, Texas with her aunt, not prowling around her ankles.

So what had she felt?

Opening her eyes completely, she gave the room a thorough scan. Black corners and unlit nooks surrounded her, but that didn’t freak her out.

What did was the feeling that she wasn’t alone.

The air seethed with a vibe she didn’t understand—and couldn’t ignore. Dark, intense, sexual. How weird… Had she been having a dream she couldn’t shake? Maybe, but she didn’t remember it.

Her palms began to sweat. Adrenaline eked into her system. She gave the room a harder stare—and still couldn’t see a damn thing.

“Curtis?” she called hopefully.

“Guess again.”

The unfamiliar male voice from across the room sent ice dashing into her veins. His tone wasn’t much warmer either. Fear rooted her in place.

“Oh my God.”

“I don’t think He’s going to help you tonight. Right now, it’s just you and me.”

“Who are you?” She heard her voice tremble.

He laughed in answer.

Brenna tried to get up, dart out of the bed. No go. Her ankles had been spread and secured to the bedposts. Something jerked at her wrists and rattled near her ears.

The intruder had tied her ankles down, secured her wrists with handcuffs.Oh, shit. Was she going to wind up on the five o’clock news in a segment about a horrific murder, featuring some recent picture of her and a body bag?

She struggled again, frantically tugging at one wrist then the other. But the bite and metallic jangle let her know she wasn’t moving.

“Those are standard-issue police cuffs,” said the stranger as he stepped from the shadows, into the pool of moonlight under the skylight. “You’re not going anywhere until I release you.”

She could see enough about the intruder to get a general impression. He was a dream and a nightmare at once. Black leather pants, a matching vest…and nothing underneath but smooth bronze skin and rippling muscles. Oh, and the tattoos. They covered his left arm and shoulder in some intricate black flame pattern that wrapped around his enormous biceps multiple times, almost to the elbow. Blond hair hung straight to his shoulders. A silver medallion dangled from his neck and glinted in the moonlight between solid pecs and brushed the top of taut abs.

In another setting, this very bad boy would have made her incredibly wet.

Uninvited in her bedroom with her all tied up?

She screamed.

Calmly, he crossed the room, then covered her mouth with his hand. “You know no one can hear you since your nearest neighbor is half a mile away. If it makes you feel better, I’m not here to hurt or kill you. I’m a…friend of Curtis’.”

Yeah, wild hunch here, but friends of friends didn’t tie one another up.

Brenna closed her mouth against the unfamiliar salty tang of his skin and jerked her head away, but her mind raced. Hearing that he knew Curtis didn’t fill her with a warm fuzzy.

“As you can see, he’s not here.”

“I need your help finding him.”

“I-I don’t know where he is.”

“Now, see, that’s where I think you’re lying to me.”

She looked back at him, her eyes pleading in the dark. “No, I swear. A detective came by today. I told him I didn’t know too. And I don’t. I arrived here Saturday morning and he left fifteen minutes later. I don’t know where he went. Honest.”

There was a long pause. The stranger didn’t step back or take his hand away. After she’d turned her head, his palm had settled on her neck, long fingers wrapping easily around it. God, that made her nervous. He could cut off her windpipe with a good squeeze.

“Know when he’ll be back?”

“No. How do you know him? What kind of trouble is he in?”

He glided his palm over her shoulder, his thumb brushing under her tank top, perilously close to her breast, before running a light finger slowly down her arm, leaving a trail of unwanted tingles behind. He reached the handcuff around her wrist, binding her to the bed, and gave a playful tug. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be asking the questions. Let’s try again. How do you know Curtis?”

“I-I…” She didn’t dare float the mistress story again. If the detective had seen through her quickly, despite the dark, she couldn’t possibly hope to hide anything from this predator.

“You…what?”

She stubbornly refused to answer. What could she say when she knew the lie was ineffective and the truth, at least according to Curtis, could land her in a heap of shit.

“It’s a long story.”

With a smile that did not comfort her, he crossed his arms over his wide chest. “I have all night. So do you.”

As long as she was tied up this effectively? Yes. “I barely know him. Friend of a friend sort of thing,” she improvised. “I came out here for a change of scenery. I certainly don’t know anything that would help you.”

Her intruder said nothing for a full minute. Instead, he reached down to inch her tank up her body to reveal her stomach beneath. He swept a broad palm over her skin, fingers snagging on her belly ring.

“You’re a young, gorgeous girl. Long hair, tight ass, great tits,” He punctuated the statement by lifting his hand over her bare breast and flicking her nipple, still hard and sore from the detective’s cruel pinch. She gasped as pleasure jolted through her body.

Brenna heard fear and desire could affect the body in very similar ways. Tonight, she was getting firsthand proof. Why else would her nipples be hard if her life was in danger? Heaven help her if he discovered she was wet too. He’d tamper with her just for the joy of messing with her body and head.

Then, who knows? He might kill her for the sport of it.

Before she could protest, his hand settled high on her torso, just beneath her breast, which brushed the top of his hand. There, he planted, clearly with no intent to leave soon.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

He ignored her. “You know, you’re just the sort of girl Curtis likes to bring here to fuck. Is that why you’re here?”

Curtis didn’t live here? No wonder this cottage lacked all personal items or any sort of homey clutter. “No.”

“I think I’ll test, just to be sure you’re telling the truth.”

The intruder reached for her again. She had no idea what he intended to do, but if it was anything like what she’d endured earlier that day, she didn’t want to find out. “No! Please…don’t hurt me.”

The biker paused. “So you know what Curtis is into?”

“Based on the conversation I had earlier today with the detective, I guessed. I-I don’t know from experience.”

An odd smile crossed his face. “The detective told you Curtis is a sadist?”

“No, he grabbed me and squeezed my…”

Brenna had a bad feeling if she explained the interaction between she and the hot detective that this intruder would want to test her reaction for himself. God, she didn’t want to repeat that pain.

“He demonstrated,” she corrected.

“Did he? He squeezed your…what?”

“That’s not relevant. Aren’t you here about Curtis?”

“We’ll get back to him in a moment. The detective interests me too. He’s usually a good little Boy Scout. Tell me how he inflicted pain on you.”

She shook her head. “I’m not telling you so that you can do it for yourself.”

“I don’t like causing pain. I’m not a sick fuck, like Curtis.”

“Really?” Sarcasm sprayed out like a garden hose full blast. “You only like to break into a woman’s bedroom, tie her up in her sleep, then fondle and scare the hell out of her.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started to fondle you yet.”

“Don’t touch me!” The words sounded much braver than she felt.

He went on as if she hadn’t even spoken. “I’m wondering…” The intruder eased his hand back to her breast, where he cupped it with a blazing palm. Then he set that thumb back over her nipple to graze and roll it back and forth. “Did he squeeze this one?”

Yes. And even now, she could feel the stranger’s touch acutely through the remnants of the detective’s pain. She was more sensitive than usual. Way more.

“Stop it!”

“It doesn’t feel good?” he asked innocently as he thumbed the hard nub. “Did Detective Martinez squeeze this nipple?”

It felt too good. No way she was going to answer him, not when he’d take that as an invitation.

Suddenly, the bed dipped with his weight as he sat beside her. “I’ve been watching this place for a few days now. Give me some information about Curtis, and I’ll give you the orgasm you couldn’t give yourself by the pool.”

Her jaw dropped as she drew back in horror. “You saw that?”

“Live and in living color. I know exactly what you’re missing. Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll give it to you.”

“You can’t,” she blurted.

No one could. Something inside her just froze up every time she tried to come. By herself, she felt silly, the exercise pointless. With a man, she couldn’t be in the moment. She simply focused on the inevitable “goodbye” before it even happened. The relaxing and enjoying they always suggested just never materialized.

For a few years in high school and college, she’d slept with any guy rumored to be well hung or good in bed. Nothing. This intruder, a potent mixture of danger and edgy sex appeal, who hadn’t even told her his name, was even more temporary than most. He could be a cross between Valentino and a porn star and it wouldn’t matter. No way could he get her to come when every other man had failed.

“Try me,” he drawled.

His confidence made her shiver. Yes, a lot of guys had seemed as if they were proud of their bedroom prowess, and some had been better than others. This one… She wondered exactly what he had to back up his conviction.

Brenna shook off the thought. “Not to challenge you, but seriously, you can’t make me come.”

He just laughed. “If I do, you tell me about Curtis’ whereabouts and your relationship with him. Deal?”

Talk about a bargain with the devil…

“And if you fail, you’ll go away and leave me the hell alone?”

“Sure. Whatever. So, it’s a deal?”

Rolling her eyes, Brenna sighed. “This is pointless. You can’t make me come.”

“I can.”

Absolutely not. She was not going to invite a total stranger who had tied her to her own bed fondle her just in case he could finally give her the orgasm she’d been missing all her life. She wasn’t.

“Prove it,” she tossed back.

God, she hated when her impulsive tongue got the better of her common sense.

“If I do, you’ll tell me what I want to know?”

Since what she knew was next to nothing, and he’d never make her come anyway, why not agree? Besides, every moment he was fondling her was a moment he wasn’t trying to kill her. And a moment she could be looking for some way to escape.

“Yes.”

“This is going to be fun.”

She saw a flash of white teeth in the dark. No doubt, he was awfully pleased with himself. As badly as her body would love the gratification, her head knew there was no way he’d be doing anything but eating crow. Then maybe, he’d unbind her. Hopefully. If not…she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

The stranger reached down, disappearing from her line of sight for a moment. He returned, holding something she couldn’t identify in the dark. He pressed a button, and after aclick , a short, sharp blade gleamed in the inky air between them.

Her eyes widened, and she gasped. “I-I told you, I’m not into pain. Or blood. Or death.”

“Me, either. But a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do…”

The intruder lowered the blade to her torso, beneath her tank top. Brenna’s heart pumped frantically in her chest, and she could barely hear his words over the roar of blood in her head. She tried to thrash away but every limb was too secure. If she kept that up, she wasn’t going anywhere—except to see Saint Peter.

He fitted the blade under the cotton and made his first cut—into the shirt, not her flesh.

“To see great tits,” he finished with a laugh.

The asshole!He’d been toying with her, enjoying her distress, knowing all the while he had no intention of killing her.

Relief and anger poured through her at once, flooding her system with something dark and unfamiliar. He yanked up with his arm, his biceps bunching and bulging. The fabric of her shirt began to rip, a little more each time he sawed at it with his imposing strength. Finally, the blade sliced its way through the bottom of her shirt and the cool air teased her bare nipples.

“Holy shit.” He dropped the knife beside her on the bed and stared at her in the muted moonlight. His gaze was almost reverent as he cupped the breast the detective had abused earlier that day. “Cam pinched this nipple, didn’t he? Hard.”

Brenna gave him a shaky nod.

“How hard?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything that painful, especially the second time.”

“He did it more than once?” Incredulity colored the intruder’s voice, then he smiled.

Brenna was confused.Cam, he’d called the detective, as if he knew the guy. Did he? And why did he care about the way Cam had touched her?

“Were you even a little bit aroused?”

What an odd question. Was there a right or wrong answer? Did he want to know that Cam had turned her on? Under normal circumstances, she didn’t think any man wanted to know that another had aroused her. But with this stranger, she got the distinct impression that knowing Cam had affected her would please him.

“When he just touched me, before he pinched…yes.” In fact, in the moments before he’d delivered the pain, she’d thought his touch was one of the most pleasurable ever.

The intruder laughed. She’d didn’t get the joke, but didn’t think it was smart to ask him let her in on it.

“He touched you first? Tell me how.”

“H-how? Ah…well, he put his hand on my breast.”

“Just walked up to you and did this?” The stranger enveloped her sore breast in his palm.

“No. He grabbed my arm and spun me around, so his front covered my back. I…I could feel his hard breaths on my neck and every ripple of his chest when he exhaled. He reached around me and…”

“And you liked it.”

That wasn’t a question. Brenna didn’t reply.

“You’ve been helpful already.”

He bent down and placed a kiss on her abdomen, then his tongue stole into her navel. Unexpected tingles darted down low, and her belly quivered. Her womb clenched.

“Hmm. Responsive,” he whispered on her skin. “I like that in a woman. Let’s see just how much.”

Already he’d gotten more out of her than some guys had after a whole hour of sex, but that hardly meant he was going to be the man to incite her orgasm.

He kissed and nipped his way up her torso then laved her abused nipple. Blood filled it in a rush so quick, it was almost painful…but a sweet sort of pain. She gasped.

“Nice. Very responsive.”

Before she could absolve him of that notion, he laved her other nipple. As if grateful to finally get some attention, it stood straight up almost the instant his tongue touched it. His thumb came behind him and provided enough delicious friction to make her catch her breath.

“Stop. This has gone far enough.” Brenna tried to sound authoritative. Instead, she sounded like a quivering, half-aroused headcase.

“Unless you have very sensitive nipples, I can’t make you come like this. We have a deal. You reneging?”

“I-I… You can’t just…” She sighed in frustration. “It’s not a real agreement.”

“The hell it isn’t. The chance to make you come in exchange for information. Or to get rid of me if I fail. Those were the terms.”

“You can’t mean to hold me to it.”

“Why not? First, it’s a great score to see you completely naked. I have every inch of you to myself. Second, it’s the only way you’re getting me out this door before I have what I want.”

And tied down to the bed she wasn’t in any position to refute him.

Getting rid of him wasn’t what her body wanted, but what would be best for Curtis and her own self-preservation? As much as she didn’t want her gorgeous intruder to know that she was a freak who couldn’t come like a “normal” girl, she wanted him gone more.

“Why do you want Curtis so badly, that you’d seduce an unknown woman in the middle of the night?”

“Believe me, honey, you’re no hardship.”

“You’re not answering me.”

“It’s not something you need to worry about. We have unfinished business, Curtis and I.”

“His business is dangerous. Do you know what he’s been up to? Are you involved?”

“Yes and no, in that order.”

“I certainly didn’t know before I read it in this morning’s paper, and none of this makes sense! Who are you?”

“It’s not important.”

“I can’t come for someone whose name I don’t know. Mental block.”

That wasn’t the only thing that would mentally block her from orgasm, but she had a feeling he was one stubborn man who would insist on finding that out for himself, no matter what.

The intruder paused. “Thorn.”

She frowned. “Is that a first name or a last?”

“What do you need, my full name, social security number and blood type? This is simple—you either tell me where Curtis is or…I make you come and then you tell me.”

Brenna sighed. “I swear, I don’t know anything.”

“We’ve been over this, babe. Besides…” He dedicated both hands to touching her breasts and toying with her nipples. “I’m enjoying the hell out of this. Cam’s hard-on after his visit here makes a shitload of sense.”

It shouldn’t matter if she’d made the detective hard. He was potentially the enemy and she wasn’t likely to see too much of him in the future. But knowing she got to him…well, it did something for her feminine pride. Detective Martinez was a major hottie.

Then again, from what she could see of her intruder, Thorn was easy on the eyes too.

“I’ve got one myself,” he added.

Oh, hell. Like she needed to know that he had an erection. A curl of thrill cut through her belly. Stupid…but it wasn’t like she had a lot of control over the sensation.

“And I’m dying to know what you’ve got down south,” he murmured in the dark.

Before she could protest, Thorn jerked the sheet away from her waist, past her hips, down her legs, then he ripped away the wisp of lace around her hips. Thanks to her bound and spread ankles, he had instant access to everything.

Thorn didn’t hesitate, didn’t work up to his next touch. He cupped the mound of her sex, fingers dipping just inside her lips to test. He slid right over slick, sensitive tissues, his fingers covering the quivering button of her clit.

He flashed her another smile in the dark. “Wet and bare, my favorite kind of pussy. It’s going to be my pleasure to find out how many ways I can make you come.”

“I don’t think…”

He circled his fingers over her clit and bent to take that sore nipple in his mouth. At that point, thinking wasn’t happening. She bucked and arched as sensation tore through her. A burning ache broiled between her legs. A line of tingles zinged between her nipple and her clit.

Oh…wow. This guy was good.

He moved his mouth to her other nipple, and let his teeth gently scrape her flesh. The connection between her nipple and parts south only increased. She shifted restlessly. So he wasn’t just good, butreally good.

Then he shocked her with a long, strong sucking of the nipple. She didn’t want to respond to Thorn; he was a stranger in the dark, sweetly tormenting her for information she didn’t have. She had nothing to give him, either in 411 or in orgasm. But logic wasn’t stopping her body from arching to give more of herself and get closer to this man.

He lifted his hand from her sex and wrapped his left arm around her, securing his strapping forearm in the arch of her back to keep her lifted to his mouth. The hot, bare flesh of his chest and abdomen licked fire across the skin of her torso. Being closer to him was somehow more exciting than having his fingers on her clit. It felt more…personal.

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 624