MisplacedLessons (5 page)

He chuckled. “Ask me nicely.”

Sweat trickled from her brow along her hairline.

“You do realize I’m going to kill you the second you take
these straps off my wrists.”

Clearly he was undeterred. He gripped her breast and told
her to hold her breath. She opened her mouth to ask why, but just then, he
released the clamp.

She screamed as the sensation of needles piercing flesh
assailed her. Tears formed in her eyes but the blindfold quickly absorbed the
moisture.

He soothed the pain away with soft kisses, his tongue
caressing the wounded tip. Her head was dazed, her body overwhelmed by his
continual sensual assaults. She’d never realized pain, when paired with
pleasure, could be such a heady aphrodisiac. She wanted more.

“Ready for the second?”

She nodded slowly, preparing herself for the onslaught.
While the removal of the second clamp was just as painful, she was able to
tolerate it better, her body anticipating its delicious reward. He didn’t
disappoint her as he eased the pain with his talented mouth.

Once the sweet agony passed, he removed the blindfold. She
struggled to adjust to the bright moonlight. Then he unfastened the restraints
around her wrists. She lowered her arms slowly, gaze never leaving his face as
she tried to anticipate his next move.

Laugh lines formed around his eyes. “If you’re still
planning to kill me, do it now. Otherwise, roll over and lift your ass in the
air again.”

She didn’t even feign annoyance. She was too far gone, putty
in his hands. She twisted beneath him, anxious for more. She started when his
hands touched her sore arse, expecting him to spank her for her threats.

Instead, he bent lower and placed a kiss on one of her
buttocks. “Your ass is gorgeous.”

She laughed until he pressed her legs apart and ran his hand
along her slit once more. His fingers lingered around her anus and she bit her
lip. That was uncharted territory for her, though it wasn’t due to a lack of
interest on her part. She’d had one somewhat serious boyfriend in her life,
Kyle, and he’d considered “backdoor” activities disgusting.

Marc and Keith had laughed their arses off when she’d shared
that tidbit with them one night after too many shots of Bundy. Then they’d told
her to dump the uptight dickhead. She’d scoffed at their suggestion, but the
next day, hungover from the rum, she’d followed their advice and broken things
off. Since then, she’d lived a life more celibate than a nun’s, wondering at
least a million times a day if boring, vanilla sex with Kyle was preferable to
no sex at all. She decided against Kyle every time.

Her sexy stranger wiggled his finger against her tight
opening, bringing her thoughts back to the present. “You said yes as long as we
use lots of lube.”

When they’d discussed limits, she’d thought he was just
jerking her chain a bit, trying to get a rise out of her and having some fun at
her expense. Apparently not. So far, he’d made good on the spanking, the nipple
clamps and the bondage. She wasn’t sure how much more her overwrought body
could take.

“Um. Crap. Oz. Just for a second. Oz.”

He leaned back on his haunches as she sat up to face him.
His face was more understanding than she’d expected. Truthfully, she was afraid
he’d be angry with her.

“Sorry,” she said softly.

He grasped her hand. “Not a problem, Amy. I warned you
before we started, you make me want more. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.”

“It’s not that. Bloody hell. Tonight’s ranking up there as
my single greatest sexual experience and I haven’t even come yet.”

He laughed. “What’s wrong with the men in Australia?”

“Nothing. I mean, they’re okay blokes.”

“I love your accent.”

She shrugged. “It’s alright.”

He shifted, sitting as he tugged on her hand, dragging her
closer until she was straddling his thighs. His erect cock rested tightly
against the seam of her pussy.

Helllloooo, Mr. Wiggly.

She resisted the urge to giggle nervously. The nickname came
from one of the more precocious tots amongst her year one kids, Nige. She’d
lost count of how many times she’d put him in time-out for pulling out his own
Mr. Wiggly and showing it to the girls.

She blushed again.

Wow. Really? You’re sitting on the hardest, most amazing
cock you’ve ever seen and you’re thinking about work? Wonder why you’re not
getting laid on a regular basis, Amy?

“You okay?” He shifted slightly and his hard-on brushed
against her clit.

“Oh yeah.” Her quick, breathless response pleased him.

“Good.” He pressed her back against the mattress, covering
her with his body. He was big…everywhere. Kyle had been slight, only about an
inch taller than her. Apart from him and a couple unmemorable one-night stands
prior to him, it was safe to say she’d never been with such a large man. She
liked it.

He reached toward the nightstand and she followed his
progress, watching as he pulled a condom out of the drawer. Talk about
prepared. Her sexy stranger had set up the room perfectly. She wondered what
Andrew Shaw would think about the illicit activities taking place in his room.

Wait…

How did Harper know she would pick this room?

The thought caught her unaware and a seed of doubt sprouted
in the back of Amy’s mind.

Unfortunately, it didn’t have time to take root, mainly
because her stranger had decided to do a bit of rooting himself. Donning the
condom, he placed the head of his cock at the opening of her pussy.

She had only a moment to regret halting his anal play. Her
damn reticence had cost her a new experience. Maybe she’d talk him into trying
again later.

After.

Because there was no way she was stopping him now. He
pressed in slowly as Amy struggled to suck air into her lungs. Her eyes hadn’t
deceived her. He was definitely filling her in a way she’d never been filled
before.

Once he was fully seated, he paused for the briefest of
seconds. “Hold on.”

It was the only warning she received as he unleashed the
same incredible strength and power he’d exposed her to all night.

He pounded into her body, offering her no reprieve. Not that
she wanted it. Amy lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, opening
herself to him even more.

Both of them groaned as he thrust in deeper.

“So bloody good.” She dragged her nails along his back. Two
could play the pleasure-pain game. He hissed sharply, but his gaze told a
different tale as it narrowed with hunger, his lust bared before her.

“Don’t come,” he warned her.

“What? Fuck that.”

He drove in harder, then stalled. “I mean it, Amy. You’re
going to do what I say at least once tonight. I’ll tell you when to come. Don’t
you dare do it a second before that.”

He punctuated his demand with a thrust that cut too deep,
too close to the hot zone.

“Not. Sure. I. Can. Stop.” Each word was drawn from her on a
harsh breath.

“Just a minute more, Amy. Just a minute and we’ll come
together.”

His demand, combined with the slightest tinge of a plea,
touched her. She closed her eyes. “Yes Sir.”

“No. Fuck. I changed my mind. Call me Andrew. Say my name.
Say it and come.”

She exploded into a million pieces, her lips forming the
word. “Andrew!” she cried. “God, Andrew. Andrew.”

Tremors racked her frame, shaking her bones so strongly she
feared she’d break. Had she ever had an orgasm before now? There was no way she
could compare those lukewarm imposters to this climax.

Andrew followed her into oblivion, his arms tightening as he
bucked, his cock jerking with its release.

“Jesus,” he said breathlessly. He kissed her lightly, his
lips lingering despite the fact both of them were gasping. It was the sweetest
of kisses.

Finally, regretfully, he released her lips, lifted and moved
out of her body. She pressed her legs together, wishing there was some way to
hold on to the feeling of being filled by him forever.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him pull off the condom
and toss it into the small trashcan beside the bed.

Then, as always, he used his undeniable strength to put Amy
where he wanted. He twisted her boneless body to its side until he was spooning
her. Their bodies curved together as if they were puzzle pieces, a perfect fit.

Amy and Andrew.

Andrew.

His name niggled at her sleepy, sex-overloaded brain, as did
the restraints and the sex toys in the wrong room.

Andrew.

Amy’s eyes flew open.

Mother of God, she’d just slept with Harper’s brother!

She was naked and twisted up like a pretzel with Andrew
Shaw.

The truth of what she’d done crashed down on her like atomic
bombs from an attacking army. Tonight wasn’t a setup, though it definitely
qualified as a surprise. Andrew had come home early and, in her sleep-deprived
state, she’d convinced herself Harper had hooked her up with a fantasy lover.
Had that answer actually made sense to her at some point?

Fuckity-fuck-fuck.

She’d fucked up.

And she fucked her friend’s brother.

Bloody hell. She was
so
fucked.

And while she knew now she’d made a whopper of a mistake,
one question still remained.

Who the fuck did he think
she
was?

Chapter Three

Andrew rose much earlier than he expected the morning after
his incredible night with Amy. He studied the tired face of his midnight
visitor. She slept the sleep of the dead. He didn’t blame her. If he weren’t so
jet-lagged, and if his internal clock wasn’t so screwed up, he’d probably still
be down for the count as well.

Rising, he crossed to his dresser and dug around for a pair
of sweatpants. Throwing them on, he walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth
and shave. His thick beard grew in quickly and it had been at least four days
since his face had seen a razor thanks to the trip from hell. His onscreen
persona was always clean-shaven, so he wasn’t used to the scruffy man in the
mirror.

He grimaced at his reflection. The circles under his eyes
were too dark, his face lined with tiredness. He saw a nap in his very near
future. It would probably take him a day or two to get his system sorted out.

One thing he’d never managed to overcome with his job was
the adjustments to the ever-changing time zones. No matter how many cross-country
journeys he made, he still suffered a sort of day-after hangover, struggling
for twenty-four hours to adapt to the new time.

For a moment he considered calling Mike, but dismissed the
idea. There was no way he was giving his cocky friend yet another opportunity
to rub Andrew’s nose in something. Actually, it would serve Mike right if
Andrew simply avoided his calls for a few days. His best friend was as
meddlesome as a tabloid reporter. It might be fun to make Mike suffer for a
while, wondering how his night with Amy turned out.

Amy. His mind whirled over everything that had happened last
night. She’d pulled him out of his misery, giving him some of the best sex of
his life. He wasn’t sure what made her different from the women he usually
hooked up with at Velvet Chains. Perhaps it was just as she’d said. She didn’t
submit easily. He typically played with the same subs at the club. They were
well-trained, obedient. Boring. He missed the challenge.

Amy had pushed him out of his all-powerful Dom role and
forced him to work for his reward. She wasn’t passive. Instead, she was
refreshing, fun. Mike would have a field day with that knowledge.

Despite her obvious inexperience, he hadn’t pulled any
punches, hadn’t handled her with kid gloves. And she’d taken to his rough
touches like a rock star to the spotlight.

He returned to the bedroom. Picking up his phone from the
nightstand, he took one last look at the bed. His midnight visitor was even
prettier in daylight.

He rolled his eyes. Christ. He was acting like a smitten
teenager with his first girlfriend.

Get a grip, Shaw.

It was just sex. Incredible, blow-your-balls-off sex. But
just
sex
nonetheless.

Amy showed no signs of rising soon, so he headed for the
kitchen. He needed coffee to clear his head. The bright light of morning and
the few hours of sleep he’d managed to snag were bringing too much clarity to
his not-quite-as-tired mind. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out
what.

Heading down the hallway, he glanced in the guest room as he
passed—

He paused.

There was an unfamiliar suitcase resting open on the bed.
Amy’s? Had she been so certain of her success with him that she’d packed a bag?

The idea bothered him. Entering the room, he casually looked
to see what she’d brought with her. The clothing didn’t look like the stuff a
woman would use to seduce a man. No sexy lingerie or revealing outfits. In
fact, with the exception of one pretty hot leather miniskirt, there was nothing
more than jeans and regular tops, a bathroom bag and a travel book about
Chicago.

What the hell? It appeared Amy had come here straight from
the airport. Maybe he’d place a call to Mike after all. Somehow the pieces to
this puzzle weren’t fitting together. Time to ask some questions.

Andrew continued to the kitchen, filled the coffeepot with
water and counted out twelve scoops. He added another for good measure.
Something told him he needed a strong brew today. A quick glance at the clock
confirmed it was almost nine. Not too early to call his friend.

He picked up his phone and dialed. Mike answered with a
chipper “hello”. Idiot man had always been a morning person.

“Hey, Mike. What’s Amy look like?”

“What?”

Andrew sighed. “The girl you want to fix me up with. What
does she look like?”

There was a slight pause on the other end. “Never known you
to be so shallow, Andrew. Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t. I’m just curious. Describe her.”

Mike started rattling off a list of physical attributes that
basically told him nothing. “Brown hair, brown eyes, nice figure, medium height.”

The adjectives were too bland for Amy’s chestnut tresses,
chocolate-brown eyes and curves, but they still fit. “Does she have an accent?”

“What the hell kind of question is that?”

Andrew gritted his teeth. “A pretty fucking simple one. Yes
or no?”

“She doesn’t have a discernable one. I mean, she’s an Army
brat and she spent some time in the South. Every now and then I catch a trace
of a twang, but it’s nothing to write home about.”

“So she’s not Australian?”

Mike chuckled. “What the hell are you talking about? Are you
drinking already?”

“No. Listen. I gotta go. Talk to you later.”

“Are you going to explain—”

Andrew clicked the phone off in the middle of Mike’s
question.

Who the fuck was upstairs in his bed?

He’d accused her of breaking in, but she’d claimed to have a
key. If Mike didn’t give it to her, then who did?

Harper. The only other person with a house key was his
sister.

Shit.

The Australian teacher.

Harper had mentioned the woman several times in passing over
the past year. Something about starting a pen pal program.

He tried to recall if Harper had ever said the woman’s name.
He was sure she had, but it simply hadn’t stuck. He really needed to work on
his paying attention skills.

Great. So now he knew who was in his bed. Problem was he
still didn’t know why she was there or where Harper was. He reached for his
phone once more and dialed his sister’s number. It took him straight to
voicemail.

“Harper. It’s Andrew. Why the fuck is Amy here? And where
the fuck are you? Call me back.”

He clicked off the phone and cursed his temper. She’d never
call him back now.

Andrew retrieved his laptop from the front hall where he’d
left it last night and fired it up on the island in the kitchen. Then he pulled
over a stool. A quick check of his email confirmed what his producer had said
yesterday. Filming would be postponed for not quite a week and if the monsoon
did too much damage, they’d have to fall back and punt, find another locale.

Harper had said her so-called conference would last one
week. Now he was wondering if that was where she really was. Why would she
invite a friend to visit from Australia, then leave town?

She wouldn’t.

He racked his brain for an answer, but nothing came. He
glanced upward. One person knew what was going on and she was sleeping in the
room above his head. Since it didn’t appear Harper was going to answer his
questions, maybe it was time he and Amy had a little heart-to-heart.

Time for the moment of truth. Climbing the stairs, he headed
toward his room.

He was surprised when he spotted Amy, fully dressed and
sitting on the edge of his bed, talking on the phone. He paused at the doorway.
She hadn’t noticed him.

“What the hell am I supposed to tell him?” she asked the
other person on the phone.

Him who?
Him
him?

“I understand that, but…” She paused, obviously listening to
something the other person was saying. “Okay. I’ll try. Yeah. Sure. I promise.”

Amy’s shoulders sagged as she sighed and he wondered who she
was talking to. Was she talking to Harper? About him?

He stepped into the room. Amy’s eyes widened when she
spotted him.

“Um, listen. I have to go. Give my love to Thomo and Blue.
See you later.”

She disconnected the phone quickly and turned it off.

“Important phone call?”

She shook her head. “Not really. Just checking in back
home.” He couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes wandered away from his. Amy
was a lousy poker player.

“I noticed your suitcase in the guest room.”

She nodded, but didn’t offer an answer. Her eyes, which had
been so warm and friendly last night, seemed leery this morning. He walked
across the room, standing in front of her. He casually took her phone from her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to grab it back.

Andrew flicked it on. Fucking security lock. “Who were you
talking to?”

“None of your business.”

“Sweetheart, you made it my business when you broke into my
house and made yourself at home in my bed.”

Amy bit her lower lip. He was being an asshole, but he was
tired and starting to worry about his sister.

“I told you. I didn’t break in. I have a key.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s right. The key. Who gave it to
you?”

“A friend.”

Andrew’s temper exploded. “Goddamn it, Amy. I’m not playing
around. Who gave you the fucking key?”

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who’d woken up in a bad
mood. Amy rose from the bed, placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward,
her gaze narrowed. “Who did you think I was last night?”

Her question caught him unaware. “Someone else.”

“Obviously. Do you make it a habit to chain strange women to
your bed and fuck them senseless?”

A nasty grin formed. “You weren’t exactly fighting me off,
angel.”

“Funny. Those scratches on your face seem to say
differently.”

They could spend all day arguing over all the ways last
night was wrong…and oh so right. Andrew didn’t have time for that.

“You shaved.” Her comment took him off guard.

Andrew rubbed his jaw, touching the smooth skin. “So?”

“I recognize you now.”

She knew him? “How?”

“I looked you up online. Googled your name and saw a few
short clips from your show. I thought your eyes looked familiar last night, but
I was jet-lagged and not thinking very clearly. The beard threw me.”

“Where’s Harper?”

Amy’s face lost its color, her flushed cheeks fading to
white. “Harper?”

“Don’t play stupid. Where’s my sister? Is that who you were
talking to on the phone?”

Amy released a long sigh and sank on to the mattress. “I
don’t suppose you’ll just take my word when I say she’s fine.”

He crossed his arms. “You’re right. I won’t. Tell me where
she is.”

“She asked me not to. And I promised I wouldn’t.”

Andrew frowned. “Harper wouldn’t do that. We don’t keep
secrets from each other.”

Amy shrugged. “I guess you do now.”

He tried to figure out why Harper would skip town without
telling him. His mind drifted back to a disagreement they’d had a few weeks
earlier. Harper had said something about needing to get away. He’d offered to
take her on location with him, but she’d said she was twenty-five and more than
capable of taking a vacation on her own. He had tried to convince her it was no
fun traveling alone. Eventually she just let the conversation drop and he
thought she’d given up on the idea.

Apparently she hadn’t.

Andrew sat down on the bed next to Amy. He wasn’t making
progress with his asshole routine. Time to turn on the charm. He reached out
and grasped her hand. Amy accepted it, though suspicion filled her eyes.

“All I’m asking is where she is, Amy. It’s not like I’m
going to fly off to parts unknown to find her.”

“Actually, that’s exactly what she said you’ll do.”

“She’s wrong.”

Amy gave him a grin he instantly distrusted. “Then why do
you need to know where she is?”

His grip tightened. “Is she in the country?”

Amy didn’t reply, her gaze holding steady on his, offering
him no clue. Why was Amy here when Harper wasn’t?

The truth crashed down on him like an avalanche.
“Motherfucker. She flew to Australia, didn’t she?”

Amy tried to hold steady, but this time, he caught her
slight wince. His sister had taken off halfway across the goddamn planet.

“Where in Australia?”

Amy tried to retrieve her hand, but he refused to let go.
“Where?” he repeated. “Is she at your house?”

More silence met his question.

“Fine. I’ll find her myself.”

“How?” she asked.

He didn’t have a clue. He didn’t know Amy’s last name,
didn’t have any idea where she lived in Oz, nothing. “You’re going to tell me.”

She laughed. “I already told you I wouldn’t. Australia’s a
bloody big country, you know? If you’re going to go over there to look for her,
you better start now. Should only take you a few…dozen years or so.”

“Thanks for the geography lesson, but I’m not going off on a
wild goose chase. I won’t need to. You’ll tell me everything I need to know. I
can be very persuasive when I need to be.”

She didn’t bother to respond, her smirk tweaking his nerves.
“I’d really love to hang out and chat, but I need to get going. Looks like I
need to find a new place to stay since my holiday home is already occupied.”

Now it was his turn to grin. “You’re not going anywhere. In
fact, you’re my collateral. Until you tell me where my sister is or until
Harper comes home, you’re staying right here where I can keep an eye on you.
Consider yourself under house arrest.”

He expected her to argue, to pitch a fit, to wage a battle
similar to the one they’d engaged in the previous evening. His damn cock
actually started to thicken at the thought.

He should have known better. Amy hadn’t done a single
predictable thing since stripping off her clothes and crawling between his
sheets.