Perfect Alignment (4 page)

Watching him make their lunch shouldn’t have been particularly arousing. He was still fully clothed, his uniform looking slightly incomplete with the gun missing. His dirty-blond hair wasn’t even mussed and she suddenly worried about how she looked after he’d run his hands through hers. She hoped she looked sexily tousled instead of demented. It took a great deal of self-control to keep from reaching up and fussing with it, her fingers tightening on the chair rail.

She blinked back to awareness to find him watching her. She gave him a questioning look, but he just quirked his lips slightly and went back to building the sandwiches.

They remained silent except for when she asked him to leave the mustard off her sandwich, and he was soon carrying a plate with two sandwiches to the table.

“Hungry?” he asked, setting the plate down on the sex-free table.

“Yes, Sir.”

Instead of telling her that she could let go of the chair, he held the sandwich out to her for a bite. She hesitated, then leaned in.

“College student?” he asked when she’d finished, before taking a big bite of his own sandwich.

“Yes. One more year to go at Kennington. I started late. Can I have something to drink, please?”

“Sure. Water or soda?”

“Water’s fine, thanks.” She stayed still while he retrieved a bottle from the refrigerator. It wasn’t as awkward as she feared when he carefully held the bottle to her lips, giving her a couple of swallows. He fed her another bite then resumed the conversation, asking her questions while she chewed, eating while she answered.

“What did you do between high school and college?”

“I spent a year in the Philippines with my father’s family, then a year in Mexico with my mother’s family.”

“Wow. Did you enjoy both?”

“Sure. I’d spent time in both places while growing up. I’m glad I did it. Not that I was against the idea, exactly, but I probably wouldn’t have done it if my parents hadn’t pushed. I was able to travel around with my relatives, see a lot of Asia and Central America. A bit of South America.”

“I’m impressed. I made it to Canada once, that’s about it.”

She laughed. “You should travel. It’s good for you.”

“You’re right, I should. My best friend and his wife used to visit different states during the summers. I haven’t even managed to get out of New England much.”

She told him a few of her favorite traveling stories. He finished before she did, since she was doing most of the talking. Though she felt he was listening attentively the whole time, he began to stroke her between bites. Running a finger along her collarbone, sliding a lock of her hair between two fingers, making a zigzag along her thigh with his fingernail. It was distracting, but not enough to make her fumble the stories.

“What kind of work do you do?” he asked.

“I work at a coffee shop, part-time. My parents cover the tuition, and they pay for my books, but I share an apartment with two other girls and I pay for my rent and food and stuff.”

“You’re not from around here, though.” He cocked his head and looked at her. “West Coast?”

“Bingo. California. North of San Francisco.”

“Is it hard, being away from your family?”

“Sometimes. But it’s been good for me too. I have a tendency to be The Good Girl at home. I love my parents but it’s been good to focus on who I am and who I want to be, rather than always trying to be the person that I think they want me to be.”

“They push you to be perfect?” he asked.

“Not really. I had a brother. He was the good kid. I wasn’t a bad kid, but I was more into having fun with my friends than making good grades or helping out in the family store. I thought my family was restrictive because I had a couple of friends whose parents let them get away with anything. Of course, looking back I can tell that those parents just didn’t really care and the kids weren’t as happy as I thought they were.”

She took a long drink of the water he offered and was silent for a minute. She’d never really told the story to anyone, put it into words, even for herself.

“So, even though he was the good kid, he died. He and his friends decided to get acquainted with a bottle of tequila. The parents were out of town.” She swallowed hard. “My brother never did anything by halves. Between the three of them they finished the bottle off. When his buddies woke up, he didn’t.”

He’d stopped the teasing touches and rested his palms on her thighs. She looked down, focused on the warmth of his hands, the strength of his fingers resting lightly on her legs. Even after all these years, it hurt.

“It was…huge. My world just changed, in an instant. I loved him so much, had always looked up to him and been jealous of him. He wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t perfect, either. I saw how much it devastated my parents, and it just became so important to me to never disappoint them.”

“How old were you?”

“Twelve.” She gave a wry smile. “I had therapy, and understood on one level that they didn’t need or expect me to be perfect. My therapist helped me decide to go to college away from home. It was hard for my parents. They were much more okay with me staying with my family when I was out of the country than they were with me being all the way across the country by myself. But they supported my decision. And they trust me.”

She ate the last bite of sandwich. “Sorry, that got a bit heavy, didn’t it? Is it my turn to ask questions?”

He used his fingers to wipe crumbs from the corner of her mouth, then licked them clean. Then her lips. She fought to keep still, to keep her hands where they were and her lips closed, her mouth compliant. Oh, who was she kidding, her mouth rarely managed compliant. She opened her mouth and he retaliated by moving to her jaw.

A frustrated moan escaped her and she felt his lips smile against her cheek. Then he was at her ear, teasing the lobe, pulling it between his lips. She tried to turn toward him, but he bit her and stood. She watched in dumb fascination as he took the plate into the kitchen, cleaned up, winked at her and walked out of the room.

Emma couldn’t decide if it was annoying that he didn’t give her any directions or reminders not to move when he left, or if she was pleased. Did it mean he trusted her to know that she shouldn’t move until told otherwise, or that he hoped she’d make a mistake so he’d have a reason to punish her? She’d known Doms who made a habit of goading their partners into misbehaving for that reason, which she always thought was silly. If they wanted to “punish” the sub, they didn’t really need a reason, right? But she’d also seen many subs who responded well to that, so what did she know?

It was hard not to shift around, harder than she normally found it to stay in position. Not because she was nervous, exactly, but because she felt out of her element. In the club, even when she wasn’t sure what was in store for her, she felt ready and eager for whatever it might be. Once she started dressing in her club wear, she found herself entering what she thought of as her sub headspace. Which was so not where she was right now.

Thinking about it, she realized that it had been effortless to slip into that mode when he’d pulled her over. The slight nervousness of being ordered out of the car by a cop, the command in his voice and actions, followed by his making it clear to her what sort of situation she’d stumbled upon, had all helped her slip into that place enough that even driving to the barn hadn’t broken her out. But apparently eating lunch, talking about school and work and family, even if she was stark naked and being fed by hand, did the trick. Kept her from submitting.

She blinked. She was submitting, though, wasn’t she? Doing everything he’d told her to, without question. Other than the bit about the table, but really, that was just gross. So why did this feel different? Because she wasn’t enjoying it? She wasn’t hating it, she just wasn’t getting off on it. Well, except for the kissing part. She just wasn’t so fond of the leaving part.

Taking a deep breath, she forced her shoulders to relax and her fingers to unclench. Submission wasn’t supposed to be just about sex. Not just about getting off in the most spectacular way possible. Doing what he asked, pleasing him, that’s what she was supposed to be doing right now.
Right?
Right.

Focusing, she imagined what she looked like, how she would appear when he returned. She pulled her shoulders back slightly, lifted her chin but directed her gaze to the floor about three feet in front of her. She licked her lips and consciously reset her facial muscles, imagining she looked ready and waiting as opposed to bored or irritated.

Kind of surprised when it all worked, she felt calm and relaxed, but with a delicious thread of anticipation. That he would see her and be pleased. She’d never meditated before but thought her slow, even breaths and focused thoughts might be very close to what it was supposed to be like.

She was certain she knew the second he came into the room, though he made no sound. Her breathing came a little faster, but she no longer found it difficult to hold her position. In that moment, doing nothing but sitting still, she couldn’t help but think she was being more true to her submissive nature than ever before. More honest than all the times she’d allowed men to bind her, spank her, do whatever they wanted to her. She felt beautiful.

When long fingers wrapped around her neck, she wasn’t surprised, didn’t move, though she felt goose bumps spark to life all over her body. He was pleased. She could tell from just the soft caress of his thumb along the column of her neck. It made her happy.

He leaned in, his lips nearly touching her ear, and whispered, “You impress me.” He nuzzled behind her ear, then licked a path to her shoulder. “I’ve read the fax. We have an hour and a half before you need to check in with your friend.” He nibbled her shoulder then moved around her to kneel between her knees. “Give me your hands.”

It took her a second to get the message from her brain to the hands she’d been so careful not to move and bring her arms in front of her. He took her wrists in his hands and rested them on her thighs.

“Look at me.”

She met his hot gaze, and her breathing picked up another notch. Excitement brought awareness back into her limbs and she felt the small ache in her shoulders from the change in position.

“Do you trust me?” he asked. “We have your safety check set up and I’ve read your limits sheet. Do you trust me to go farther than we did earlier?”

She didn’t answer right away, but looked into his eyes. He could be crazy, mean, or even just foolish. But he’d already demonstrated more than once that her safety and welfare were his main concerns. And he’d been amused when she’d refused to sit on the table, not annoyed. Maybe those weren’t foolproof reasons to trust him, but they were more than she often had when playing with someone new at the club.

“I trust you.” It came out strong and confident, and she smiled.

He answered with a quick grin. It slowly morphed into stern watchfulness, and her body prepared for what he was about to do. Her nipples hardened and cream slid from her sex.

Letting go of her hands, he sat back on his heels. “Put your hands back where they were.”

This time she didn’t hesitate even a second before complying.

He watched her closely as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his handcuffs. She admired the gleaming silver, wanting desperately to feel the cold snap of metal around her wrists. She’d wanted it before, in the barn, but known it would be beyond stupid to give that kind of control to a complete stranger. But now…

“I should tell you that Caleb works in security. He has armed men at his beck and call.”

He smiled. “That’s good to know.”

He didn’t move behind her but knelt back up so his body was between her knees and reached around to slip the cuffs onto her wrists. He watched her face and must have been satisfied with what he saw as he snapped the circles closed with a sharp
click
.

Drew had never used his police issue cuffs for play before. Never even been tempted. Putting them on Emma stirred something inside him. He leaned in and sucked her nipple into his mouth, surprising a cry from her. She didn’t move, arch into him or pull away. Following his instructions so nicely. He’d been surprised when he’d returned after retrieving the fax from the office. Expecting to find her pouting or bored, he’d been mildly turned on by the idea of correcting her. Instead, he’d gone from partly hard to raring and ready to go at seeing the expression of patient waiting on her face. Unlike when they’d been eating and talking, her whole body had been relaxed and yet expectant.

Switching to give her other nipple the same treatment, he tugged slightly on the cuffs to make sure they were secure but comfortable. Her tiny moan sounded musical to him.

“You have the right to remain silent,” he whispered, leaning in close to abrade her puffy nipples with his shirt and bring his lips closer to hers. “Or to scream my name at the top of your lungs.”

A smile curved her lips and he kissed the corners.

“You have the right to do as I say.” He ran his hands up her thighs, teasing the inner legs with his thumbs. “Or be punished if you don’t.” He bit her lip, almost gently. She opened for him, but he didn’t move, his lips just barely brushing hers. He felt her breath in tiny gasps, but she stayed still. He fought with himself, debating between instant gratification and his plans. Finally, with an internal sigh, he pulled back, away from temptation, and rose to his feet.

She blinked up at him, her eyes heavy with need. Perfect. She was just perfect.

“Stand up, Emma.”

He gripped her upper arm, helping to support her as she unwrapped her legs and rose awkwardly until her arms were free from the chair back. He kept hold of her in a classic cop move, giving her a little more encouragement than was strictly necessary to walk forward. The slight hesitation in her step when they approached the front door satisfied him. It had occurred to him that she was used to playing only in the club scene, and resuming their scenario outside might keep her off balance. Besides, imagining her pretty ass bent over his official vehicle had been one of the images that had started this whole thing. He saw no reason to deny either of them. There was very little chance of anyone driving close enough to see them, and if they did, he’d hear them with more than enough time to get her inside.