Picture Her Bound-epub (5 page)

“I need to hit something,” she muttered.

“Hit me.” If she needed to take her anger out on someone, who better than him? This was his fault, after all. He hadn’t protected the images like he should have. Just bringing the camera into the office while they ate would have solved their whole problem. Instead, he’d thought with his cock, only wanting to be near Odalia. He couldn’t move forward with her, with what he wanted to do, until they got those pictures back.

Odalia needed to ground herself. She needed something he could give her. A little hot and heavy physical action.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed stretchy yoga pants out of a drawer.

“I’m serious,
bébé
.”

“I am not hitting you.” She stepped into the pants, scowling at him.

“Fine.”

Jacques took one step, grabbed her by the waist and tossed her back on the bed. Odalia squawked, and Creature jumped to his feet, barking. He went to grab her leg, but caught the flash of iron-gray fur from the corner of his eye and jumped backward.

Creature’s jaws snapped together where his arm would have been.

“Stop.” Odalia snatched Creature’s collar and hauled the dog off the bed. “My dog will tear you to bits. Come on, Creature.”

She led the dog to the stairs and gave him a little push. The dog glanced over his shoulder, almost appearing sad before he trotted down to the first floor. She closed the door and turned to stare at him.

In a move so fast he might not have been able to dodge or deflect if he’d wanted to, she took one step and planted her right foot in his chest, knocking him back onto the bed. He bounced, grinning. She had fire, and he didn’t mind getting burned.

She jumped on top of him, straddling his waist, and punched his chest, once, twice, not hard enough to hurt. The third blow never came. Her shoulders slumped. She lowered herself until she lay on top of him, her head pillowed on his chest.

Jacques reached up and unrolled her hair, taking out the pins and letting the locks fall in loose waves, pooling all around them. He dug his fingers in, massaging her scalp until she relaxed.

It was a crime that someone was destroying the beautiful pictures they’d created. He’d savored each pose, the progression of dressed to nude, how she’d submitted to every show of bondage for the camera while looking past it to him. They’d danced around each other, exchanging power through the give and take of subject and film. Whoever the bastard was, Jacques hoped to get a piece of him for defiling such a beautiful thing.

He rubbed her shoulders, gently at first, progressing until he dug his thumbs into the knots. If they’d been at his loft, he’d use the new batch of herbal massage oils that should be ready to test. The fragrant blend in the mixture would ease the tension out and leave her soft and supple.

Jacques wrapped his arms around her, studying the contrast and complement of their skin tones next to each other while she rested her head against his shoulder. The picture they made consisted of light to dark, hard to soft. There was a story to be told, but would she allow him to photograph her again? Would she ever sit in front of a camera after this? Would she trust him again?

He kissed her forehead.

“We’re going to figure this out together,
bébé
.”

She splayed her hand against his chest. “I’m trying to think of who it could be if it is a cop.”

“Got any ideas?”

“Plenty.” Odalia shrugged.

“Really?” He frowned. Not all cops were honest, but this?

“Think about it, Jac. I’m a female cop working a tough beat. All the guys think I can’t handle it. It’s tough being one of a handful of women on the force. Sometimes it feels like it’s not just the criminals working against me.”

“I know,
bébé
.” It was a tough world, and she’d chosen to meet it head-on. He took a deep breath and uttered the question that had circled his brain for several hours. “What about anyone you’ve dated on the force?”

Odalia shrugged. “It’s a short list with even shorter relationships. Nothing bad to tell there. Things didn’t work out.”

“Were they power exchanges?”

She lifted her head, her gaze boring into his for a few moments. “No.”

“Do you keep your kink and your relationships separate?” It was his curiosity eating at him now.

“Tried that. Didn’t work.”

Good.

Jacques wasn’t going to invest in a woman who wanted one thing from him. He was a greedy bastard, and he’d take everything she’d give him. But after he got those pictures back.

Odalia folded her hands over his chest and rested her chin on top of them. “I don’t have any more answers for you. I’ve been over it again and again in my head.”

“How ’bout something to take your mind off it then?” He dragged his fingers up her back, bringing the tank top with him.

One side of her mouth kicked up. “What do you have in mind?”

Had they only played that morning? Being inside of her still seemed as if it were more of a dream than reality.

“Something relaxing.” He’d seen her candles all over the room, and several were the cheap kink wax play tools.

Odalia planted her hands on either side of his shoulders and lifted, just enough to drag her breasts over his chest as she aligned her mouth to his. Warm lips, the taste of mint.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Relax me.”

* *

Odalia lay across the foot of her bed, not a stitch of clothing on her body. The bed was covered in plastic and rustled whenever she shifted. The lights were off, but Jacques had lit almost all of her candles, bathing the room in a soft glow.

She could hear him moving around her, his steps light. She sensed him kneel at her side.

Liquid fire dripped along her spine, and she hissed. Jacques poured a line down her vertebra from her neck to her tailbone. She wiggled and pressed her pelvis into the mattress as the heat bled out into the rest of her skin. With the initial shock over, it began to feel good.

Jacques slid his palm up her right side while dripping more wax along her left. The sensations mixed together. His heated flesh. The fire-warmed wax. The cool room. A shiver skittered up her spine at the overload.

There was something sensual about wax, the way it warmed the body and left even the tightest muscles soft and relaxed. She surrendered herself to the spell he wove around them.

He must have put the candle down because Jacques used both hands to knead her shoulders, working out more of the knots.

“Oh bayou, my baby on the bayou tonight.” Jacques’ voice rumbled, low, deep and rich, and his twang flavored the lullaby, pulling her further under his sway.

The words were a mixture of repeated phrases, calling to the creatures in the swamp and his baby. For now, the thing that mattered was being with him. His hands on her back, the wax he dripped on her skin when she wasn’t expecting it and the sensual energy swirling around them were the center of her world.

“I’ll fly o’er that bayou to you,” he sang.

Odalia hissed as hot wax dripped on the backs of her knees. The momentary pain passed, leaving her skin hot and sensitive. The wax trail continued down her calves. He even dripped some on the soles of her feet and took a moment to rub them.

“I’ll fly o’er that bayou to you.”

She let his voice take her away, out to the bayou where she’d grown up on the edges of New Orleans. Close enough for Dad to find work, but far enough away that she could remember paddling around to the neighbors in a
pirogue
. She could hear the cicadas singing and the gators bellowing in the night. They were the pleasant years of her life, wrapped in song and covered in warmth, before the storm hit and ripped it all away.

Odalia didn’t know how long she’d lain there, but every time she moved, the wax cracked.

“Come back to me,
bébé
,” Jacques muttered, stroking her hair.

“Hmm?”

He chuckled, and something silver flashed in her peripheral vision.

The problem with wax play—how did you get layers of it off?

She turned her head and held her breath as Jacques ran a large pocketknife across her shoulder, shearing off several layers of wax in white, yellow and purple.

Three empty glass cylinders with different saints printed on the surface lay on the floor nearby. While many kinksters bought expensive waxes to play with, the cost-conscious could purchase the cheap dollar-store candles. With a high paraffin content, they burned faster and cooler than many other brands. And at a dollar a pop, it was hard to argue a better three dollars spent.

She watched as Jacques peeled back long strips of multi-colored wax. With each stroke of the blade, she breathed easier.

He glanced at her but his gaze never rested long on her face. She didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if he were wiping her down. She appreciated the intense care he took, considering the knife was sharp. He didn’t seem like the kind of man to have a blade for show on his person. If he needed a knife, chances were it was to cut something.

By the time Jacques had removed every piece of wax, she was boneless, relaxed and aroused.

He helped her up off the bed and bundled the plastic and wax shavings into a ball. At some point he’d removed his shirt and shoes.

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo.” Odalia reached out and traced the darker dots inked in his flesh. They made a swirling geometric pattern over his left shoulder blade and down his arm.

He held still as she traced the dots, but she got lost among them, unsure which connected to the other. It reminded her of her father’s tattoo, what he’d called a voodoo love amulet.

Odalia laid her cheek against Jacques’ back and circled his waist with her arm. The scent of pears and vanilla filled the room. It even clung to his skin.

“Stay tonight?” she asked.

“Course.” He turned in her embrace, flattening his palms against her shoulders, bringing their bodies flush together. “I don’t want to leave you alone tonight.”

He didn’t trust her on her own yet. Or maybe it was more about the person after her. Another cop. Whatever the reason, she’d take it. She needed him more than she needed her pride right now.

Jacques ducked his head and took her mouth, suckling her lower lip between his. She sighed and leaned into his chest.

She’d take him. Every delicious inch.

Jacques swept her up in his arms and laid her out on the bed, dark intent in his gaze, but his caress was soft. His mouth whispered down her neck, over her collarbone and to her breasts.

Finally!

Odalia arched her back as he took one peak into her mouth and sucked. She moaned and gripped his shoulder, digging her nails in. He switched breasts, suckling the other while his fingers continued to play her body, lower and lower.

She spread her legs, cradling his lower body between her thighs.

Jacques slid lower, nipping at the taut flesh across her stomach.

Oh, he wouldn’t…

He was.

Odalia gasped as Jacques blew a hot breath of air across her pussy. She fisted the sheets and moaned, free to be as loud as she fucking pleased here. She hadn’t had neighbors in almost a year. It was as private as she could get without owning land and a house.

He parted her folds and gently flicked her clit back and forth.

She kicked her legs, her feet slipping as she tried to find purchase. His weight kept her pinned, not that she had anywhere else she’d want to be.

Jacques wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked. Her back arched, and she panted. Her muscles were supple, her body so warmed up that each flick of his tongue brought about ripples in her core.

“Oh, God.” She gasped as the first wave of pleasure swept over her, rising as if from her toes to the crown of her head and back again.

He continued to lap at her. The devil knew how easily she orgasmed, and now he tormented her with it, keeping her on the swell of the wave, going and going. Her whole body vibrated from the inside out until she keened, almost screaming.

“Stop, stop, stop, please,” she chanted, unsure if she meant it or if she deserved more torment.

Jacques relented, stroking her folds until the shuddering stopped and her breathing returned to something resembling normal. He rested his face against her hip, watching her. Without a word spoken, he crawled up her body and cupped her face.

How could a man who kicked ass be so tender? Sure, he’d thrown her on her butt and given her a good flogging, but she’d needed to be taken in hand. She’d needed him. It was an odd sensation, to need someone again when she hadn’t in ages.

Odalia lifted her head off the pillow and kissed him. He eased his weight down onto her, clasping her hands and holding her immobile.

“I want you in me,” she whispered when their lips parted.

Jacques nodded and stood. Before he could do more than tab open his jeans, Odalia sat up and pushed his hands out of the way. He allowed it, and she unzipped him the rest of the way. She glanced up at him as she hooked her thumbs in the band of his boxers, pulling the remaining clothing down as she went.

She followed the path of the denim, caressing his bulging thigh muscles and down to his calves.

Jacques stepped out of the discarded clothing and pushed her back. He grabbed his wallet and withdrew a condom, ever the Boy Scout. He ripped it out and rolled the latex on while she watched. She was almost jealous it wasn’t her hands caressing his stiff flesh.

He crawled back onto the bed and hoisted her left leg up over his arm, opening her up to him.

Odalia reached above her for the wooden slats and held on, her breath coming faster as Jacques notched the head of his cock against her pussy. He thrust and slid into her slick channel. She moaned, feeling the soreness from the rough fucking that morning deep in her muscles. Those were the kind of marks that didn’t show, but she savored them more than anything.

Jacques hoisted her leg higher and pressed deeper. She tossed her head back as her delicate muscles hugged him tight.

Unlike that morning, his motions were slow, controlled, driving her pleasure. He had one hand planted on the bed next to her shoulder, the other around her leg. She could feel his gaze on her body, tracing the lines of the sacred heart tattooed on her chest.