“He’s a big boy, Brock. He can find and hire his own employees.”
Brock stopped. “Hiring reputable people to fill the positions here hasn’t been Mitch’s strong suit.”
“True, but do you really think Mitch would place Trixie in danger right now?”
“Not intentionally,” Brock replied. “But let’s face it. Mitch has always cut corners.”
“I don’t agree,” Rory said. “Where Jordie Anne was concerned he didn’t take the easy way, Brock. You and I both need to come to terms with his decisions. In the end, he was a stand-up guy.”
Brock shook his head and started walking again. “Of course he was. He wanted to save his own hide.” A stride later, he muttered, “How very commendable of him.”
* * * *
Cash slapped his hands against the slick shower wall. He glanced down at the tile floor, eying the beautiful blonde looking up at him.
“Here you go, sugar,” he drawled, pretending he was Brock Sheldon.
He rubbed his cock over the cool, smooth texture, trying to change his stance while aiming his tip toward her lips. “That’s my girl. Open that mouth. Wide. Right. Wider.”
No, he thought. Brock wouldn’t have done it like that.
He grabbed for her hair, securing a handful and yanking her head back like Rory had done earlier when he’d watched the two of them fucking. He glared into her eyes and realized he needed to soften his approach when the image he captured was one filled with fright rather than love, like what he’d witnessed on her face when she’d been in bed with Rory.
Forcing his lips to roll over his teeth, he closed his mouth and grunted, pushing the weight of his cock against the small opening. “There, baby mama. Oh yeah. Hmm huh. That’s good. Close your mouth tighter.”
He thrust his hips forward and back, screwing that blonde mouth as hard as he could, only somewhere in the harrowing depths of his imagination, he knew the mouth he fucked was only an empty, hollow hole. “Now, damn you!”
He pushed harder and harder, thrusting his hips back and forth. His release was trapped in the base of his shaft. He could feel his cum burning his prick and he tried harder, slamming his head against the wall and pushing with everything he had inside him.
“Fuck me with your mouth, bitch!” he screamed, pounding harder and harder, wishing he could make her close her mouth, wishing that hollow hole would swallow him, lick at his slit, and lavish him with oral affection.
Instead, the hole remained unresponsive and too wide for a good fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut and imagined Trixie on her knees again. Her breasts were full. Her eyes were heavy. She licked her lips and giggled as she dragged her fingers up and down his length, complimenting him on the size of his cock, telling him how much she wanted to fuck him.
“You will, lover,” he said, cupping the cheek that wasn’t really there. “Just finish me and I’ll come to you, I swear it.”
At that moment, he heard pounding. Fuck! There was a storm brewing. Not a cloud in the sky, but loud thunder in the distance.
“Hurry, bitch! Suck my cock, pretty baby mama.” He remembered the way she’d ridden on top, the way she’d locked her hands behind her head and her curvaceous body had undulated as she’d begged for more.
She would soon grovel for his cock as well.
He slammed against the wall and imagined the tight squeeze of her pussy. Then, when he knew the end was near, he moved closer to the tiled opening, pushing his cock inside the wide curve of the soap dish.
“Ah yes! Yes, fucking yes! Trixie! Baby! Oh yes, baby!”
He collapsed against the shower tiles seconds later. His breathing was ragged, his cock wilted, and his satisfaction far from complete.
“You should’ve gone with them,” Trixie said, following Mitch into his apartment.
“Want something to drink?” he asked, going to the kitchen bar.
“Vodka and orange juice.”
“You know how I feel about you and alcohol.” His gaze dripped over her like melted dark chocolate.
She allowed herself the same luxury, remembering the feel of those bronze muscles flexing under her fingertips. Mitch was a walking orgasm waiting to squeeze out sensational multiples. A woman could look at him and become aroused. She could kiss him and find herself addicted.
He possessed haunting good looks, and his tall, dark, and handsome appeal didn’t stop with the hard body and gorgeous smile. His talents were in the bedroom and he damn well knew it.
“I’d like a drink, Mitch,” she said firmly. The confidence she’d demonstrated quickly diminished when she walked to the bar, picked up a glass, and immediately dropped it.
Mitch darted forward just in time to scoop up the tumbler before the glass shattered into bits. He quickly set the glass aside and before she knew what hit her, he grabbed her by the wrist, pulled her against him, and smothered her mouth with his, that wicked tongue of his pressing through her lips as he kissed away her apprehensions and further fed her longing.
Bunching her hair in his hands, he broke their kiss, and in a breathless whisper, he said, “God, I’ve missed you, baby.”
Trixie was overwhelmed. So much had happened in the last forty-eight hours. The past few weeks were a blur as well. How many days had she spent looking for him? How often had she picked up the phone to call the prison warden to find out if Mitch had left a forwarding address?
How many times had she called the camp in hopes Mitch would answer the phone and that rugged, raspy voice would say, “Cow Camp. What can I do for you?”
There was a lot he could do for her. Now maybe he would.
“What is it?” he asked, locking his hands around her neck and pulling her lips to his again. “Don’t trust me, now?”
She pulled back and stared at his mouth. How could she put her faith in a man who had left her under false pretenses?
“I know who you are, Mitch.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“No, I don’t trust you,” she said, lifting her chin. “Does that make you feel any better?”
“It breaks my heart,” he admitted.
“You’ve broken mine plenty of times,” she said, wanting another kiss in spite of herself.
“Then maybe we’re even now,” he whispered, his tongue drifting across her bottom lip.
He lowered his lips to hers once more and took a tour of her mouth. He placed soft pecks on the corners before he thrust his tongue inside the depths of her mouth, taking a full-throttled kiss, his tongue swirling round and round. “You taste like heaven’s kiss.”
Mitch had a way of working her. His voice, his touch, everything about him called for her surrender.
“I need you, baby,” Mitch said, lifting her to the breakfast bar. “I need to taste you, feel you.”
Trixie studied the man before her and couldn’t believe what she was seeing with her own eyes. Mitch was softer, totally different than he’d been when he’d taken her to bed before, and she wondered then. Had prison changed him? Had he become the man he thought she needed because, like Brock, he feared he’d lose her if he didn’t adhere to her expectations?
Mitch slid his hands up her inner thighs. “Let me take you as you are. Reckless and untamed. Let’s do it, Trixie. Let’s get wild together, baby. Can you do that for me?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, brushing her palms across his shoulders. “I don’t know what I can do with you, Mitch. It’s been so long.”
“Has it been long enough for you to forget this?” His hand fell to her pussy, and he rubbed the back of his hand over her wet center. The crotch of her pajamas was drenched from her early romp with Rory and yet she could feel another degree of hotness licking her center, spilling over her folds.
Mitch’s upper lip curled. “You want me to eat your pussy, baby? Is that what you want?”
“No,” she replied, wondering if he just dismissed the fact she’d recently fucked Rory.
The illicit offer still turned her on. Talons of pleasure rushed through her body as he lifted her shirt and stared at her breasts.
“So pretty,” he whispered, kissing one nipple and then the other. “You’ve always had such a pretty figure.”
“Mitch,” she rasped, her fingers weaving through the curls at his nape.
“Shh, baby,” he whispered, stepping forward and rubbing his cock against her center. “I just want to play for a minute, vixen. Can we do that, Trixie? Can we just play together?”
“No rules?”
“Do you need them?”
“I just want you. Once, Mitch. Just once, make me feel like you love me. Take me to your bed and love me.”
“I can do that, Trixie. For you I can do anything.”
Moments later, he cradled her in his arms and carried her to the bathroom. He reached behind the shower curtain and started the water.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, kissing her nape before exiting the bathroom.
While he was gone, Trixie studied her reflection in the mirror. What was wrong with her? How had she loved a man so and yet let him go? What kind of woman could do that? How could she love three men equally and unconditionally when one man hadn’t been a part of her life for more than five years?
Shivering from the cold air shooting through the vents, she stripped and entered the shower. The door opened and closed. Then Mitch stepped behind the curtain, bracketed his arms around her, and lavished her back with the sweetest of kisses.
His loving was tender and attentive. His hands caressed her in places she could’ve sworn she’d never been touched. His fingertips smoothed over the planes and curves of her body as he drew her closer.
He allowed her to feel his embrace. His large arms wrapped around her as his mouth explored her body.
She bent her arm and reached behind her, clasping her hand around his nape. He dipped his head lower, his hot breath tickling her ear as he whispered the sweetest promises she’d ever heard fall from his lips.
“I will love you,” he said. “I’ll honor you.”
“Mitch,” she whimpered.
“I will not forsake you, Trixie,” he continued.
“Mitch, you don’t have to make any promises to me.” She rolled her head to the side and accepted his ravenous, tongue-driven kiss.
“I’ll hold you, Trixie,” he whispered, sliding down to the floor. He knelt behind her and dragged a washcloth and bar of soap with him. He cleaned her from front to back, using the soap between her pussy lips before moving to the crevice behind them. Then, he repeated the same process with the rag, rinsing her thoroughly.
Shards of electric sensations tantalized her nerve endings. She gripped the metal shower bar and braced for the best of Mitch.
He eased his way around her body, positioning himself in front of her pussy, eye level to her cunt. Trixie stared down at him and as if totally on reflex alone, her body jolted. Her hips pumped forward.
“I will have you, sub,” he rasped, that dark and guttural edge surfacing. He blew a steady stream of hot air over her clit and smiled up at her. “Tell me, sub. Tell me who you belong to.”
“You, Sir.”
He shook his head. “I’m not Sir. Who am I to you?”
He blew again and her breath caught in her chest. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to think of how she should address her objection to calling him out as she’d referred to him in the past. He’d betrayed some level of trust and because of that and the fact that she would never give him a title suggesting she held him in higher regard than perhaps Brock or Rory, another name would need to be established.
“You’re my Dom,” she said.
“And how will you address me?” he asked, standing. He searched her eyes. “I asked you a question. I want an answer.”
“How would you like to be addressed?”
Mitch planted a tender kiss upon her lips. “You know what I am to you, sub.”
He raised his hand and swatted her pussy. A loud wallop resounded. Her folds were saturated, completely damp as she struggled to maintain her balance.
Mitch rubbed her vagina with the heel of his hand. “Tell me, my little submissive woman. Who am I?”
Trixie bit her lip and swung her lower body to him once more. “You’re my Dom.”
“Master,” he whispered, kissing her belly. “I’m your Master.”
“No,” she objected, shaking her head vehemently. “You’re my Dom, Mitch.”
He slowly dragged his fingers through her folds and watched her. Her body trembled under his touch. “Have you forgotten how much you enjoy me, sub?”
“No. I haven’t forgotten.”
He stuffed his middle finger inside her vagina and twirled the digit higher as he blew on her hard clit. “Why then won’t you refer to me as I’ve requested?”
Trixie’s shoulders rose and fell as he fingered her. He blew against the knoll between her legs, and left her with a multitude of sensations as much as distorted emotions. “You know why, Mitch.”
“I’m your Master!” he yelled, jerking her hips forward and dragging his tongue through her pussy lips.
Trixie’s back bowed and she rolled her head from side to side. “Dom. You’ll be referred to as my Dom.”
“That’s not a show of respect,” he complained. He propelled his arm behind him and slapped her pussy again. “You’ll follow my wishes, sub.”