Safe From the Fire (22 page)

“Bring
me the handcuffs, Grace.”

She
looked surprised, but only hesitated for a moment before hurrying to the
nightstand to retrieve them.  They were wrapped in velvet, which made Matt feel
marginally less monstrous as he snicked them around her slender wrists in front.

He
left her there for a minute and moved to the drawer, choosing a few items
before turning back to her.  Grace’s eyes widened as she saw what he set down
on the night stand before joining her, a silver egg and remote in his hands.

“I
hope you’re wet for me, Grace.  Put your foot on the bed.”

She
did, licking her lips, and the long skirt fell back to reveal the tall,
thigh-high boots that drove him crazy and a length of smooth, creamy thigh.

Matt
pushed her skirt back further and then reached up to tug the thong out of the
way.  Separating her with two thick fingers, he used his other hand to push the
egg deep, and then stepped back.

“And
now…”

He
hit the remote, giving her an experimental jolt, and she jerked.

Fucking
awesome.

He
wanted to order her to her knees to soothe his aching dick with her sweet lips,
but he had other plans, and he’d never last.

“Lie
down, Grace.  I’m going to play for a while before I give you your punishment.”

Matt
could see she was trembling as she did what he asked, and he swiftly looped the
short length of chain between her handcuffed wrists and secured her to the
headboard.

“This
isn’t your favorite dress, is it?” he asked. 

Not
waiting for an answer, he ripped the black lace from bodice to hem.  Grace
gasped.  Matt found the seams at her arms and ripped those too, leaving her
clad in sleeves, underthings, and spiky leather boots.  The bra presented a
problem until Matt figured out that he could unsnap it and slide it up to
dangle from the chain over her head.  He tweaked her nipples hard and then reached
for the waistband of her thong, and she wriggled.

“If
I take this off of you, you’ll be naked in only boots and your glasses, chained
to the bed, waiting to be fucked.  Is that what you want, Grace?”

“Take
it off!” she pleaded, and he punished her with a long jolt that had her crying
out, arching into the pleasure as he tugged the wisp of fabric down her
thighs. 

She
was panting as it finally stopped, teetering on the edge of orgasm, and she
groaned, frustrated.  Matt just grinned and spread her legs obscenely wide and
then stood at the foot of the bed, stroking his cock.  He whistled low.

“This
is quite a view, Miss. Mallow.  In fact, I think it that wet pussy and your
hard little nipples plus those boots take ‘slutty librarian’ to a whole new
level.  God, you’re drenched.”

He
flicked the remote and Grace lost her mind for a few minutes as pleasure
splintered her into sparkling fragments.  He finally turned the damned thing
off, and Grace realized her voice was hoarse from her cries just as she heard
the ‘click’ of a cell phone camera.  Her eyes snapped open.

“Matt!”

“What?”

“Don’t
take pictures, are you crazy?”

She
started to close her legs, but he tossed the phone aside before moving her
thighs back where he wanted them.  He leaned over her.

“You
said when we started, whatever I want.  I’ll take care of it.  Trust me?”

He
was pleased when she nodded, and despite the hard tone of the night’s
activities, he couldn’t help himself and gently stroked her cheek.

“Great,
let’s have some fun.”

GRACE
HAD TRIED ALMOST everything over the years in an attempt to learn what she
liked, what she didn’t, and what was too far.  She’d never let anyone take
pictures
before, though, and it was only because it was
Matt
that she wasn’t
completely panicking right now.  He’d never been this forceful before, this
confident in what he wanted, and yet he was still angry with her.

That’s
fine.  I’m still angry with him, too. 
She thought about Millicent and the
unfairness of life and uncharitably wanted to rip the young woman’s eyes out.

Angry
sex was a bad habit to get into, but for the moment, it would do just fine. 
Better than fine, actually – it was such a turn on, she was quivering, and she
was discovering some truly enlightening things about herself.  For example, she
still wasn’t scared of him.  He had ripped her clothes, chained her to the bed,
and was now straddling her, running his cock and the weighty sac up her torso
to settle between her breasts, the denim of his jeans chafing her skin
deliciously.  She still wanted to let him do anything he wanted to her, and
then some, trusting that he would take care of her.

And
I think I’m in love with him.

The
thought skittered through her brain, but she couldn’t hold onto it because Matt
cupped her breasts and squeezed without his usual restraint, tight and oh
so
good.

“God,
Matt – ”

Face
suffused with pleasure, he slid forward, pumping his cock into the cleavage
he’d created, his cock hot and incredible against her skin.

“Just
sex, Grace?” he asked, tightly.

Oh
no, she was not going to tell him that she loved him, that she was wrong and
she needed him, that it could never be ‘just sex’ between them ever again.  Not
while he was fucking her breasts.

Not
romantic.  But God, this is good.

It
was a jolt to realize that she
wanted
it to be romantic sometimes.

Then
Matt flicked on the remote and let the egg stay on, buzzing inside her
sensitive flesh while she writhed beneath him and he jerked his hips forward
again and again.  Four more thrusts and he came with a rough shout, pulling
back to fist his cock and come all over her quivering tits.  Without a word, he
shut off the egg before she could come again,
damn him
, and pressed the
fat crown of his dick against her lips.  She whimpered and lapped him clean,
his taste sending a hard beat of arousal to her already overstimulated clit.

Matt’s
eyes were dark with lust as he watched her breasts rise and fall, ragged, her
nipples gleaming with his release as she licked his glistening cock.  He
flipped her over, adjusting the chain to the top bar of the headboard so that
when he pulled her knees back, her weight shifted to her wrists, arching her
back and thrusting her damp nipples forward.  It wasn’t the most comfortable
position, but Grace was beyond caring as he spread her wide again.

“I’m
going to spank you today, Grace.”  The words were confident, but there were
nerves underneath.

Grace
moaned as his hand caressed one ass cheek.

“I’m
going to spank you for even thinking that I would want someone else.  You could
rob a bank, or tap dance naked for the Town Council, and I wouldn’t care.  It’s
you, and only you.  And then I’m going to spank you for even
thinking
about leaving town.”

Grace
bit her lip, though the rough emotion in his voice threatened to unravel her.

“Give
me a safe word,” he continued, reaching inside her to pull out the egg with
gentle fingers.

“Purple,”
she replied in a heated whisper.

She
felt him shift again, and then she felt his fingers, slick with lube and her
own juices, stroking up the cleft of her ass, seeking out the tiny pucker.  Her
eyes closed as she whimpered, trying to relax the opening against his fingers. 
He slid one in, just the tip, then more.

Yes.

It
had been too long, and Grace knew she’d be tight.  He withdrew and she was
about to say something when she felt the lubed plug, tapered at one end, but
brutally thick at its base.  All that emerged from her throat was a squeak as
Matt began pressing it in, a slow inch at a time.

“Incredible,”
he muttered behind her, but didn’t stop.  The plug stretched her and she
savored the burn, the indescribable tightness as he pressed it to the hilt,
anchoring it inside of her.  Matt stroked her hands over her trembling flesh,
moving between her thighs as he cupped her ass.

“Only
you, Grace,” he said again, and his hand came down on one cheek in a heated
slap.  She gasped as fire raced from the sting in her flesh to the plug in her
ass and down to her clit, but she didn’t have time to process it because he did
it again.  And again.  At this rate, he was going to burn her alive, leaving
nothing behind but ashes as she went up in flames.

MATT
WAS EXHILERATED AND utterly horrified with himself, but he kept spanking her. 
The way her ass cheeks jiggled and blushed under his ministrations was
hypnotic, and she was so turned on that her thighs were slick with moisture. 
Every hard little tap against her resilient flesh had her moaning, and though
he couldn’t see them, he knew that her come-soaked tits were bouncing.

“
Mine
,”
he growled, shocked as the word ripped out of him.

“Yours,”
she agreed, desperate, and he pulled the pink twin globes further apart to
begin sliding his rock-hard shaft into her sodden pussy. 

She
was even tighter than usual, the plug forcing him to work the thick flesh in,
and she thrashed in pleasure beneath him as he started moving, fucking into her
tight, hot sheath like a beast, uncontrolled and lost in mindless pleasure, his
balls slapping her pussy as he thrust with greater force until she was panting,
begging, and sobbing with pleasure.

Sobbing.

“Use
the safe word, Grace,” he said, pistoning into her, his own orgasm just a
thought away.

She
shook her head and he could see tears tracking down her cheeks. 

“Use
it!”

He
spanked her again – three heavy taps, and she cried out his name, and suddenly
Matt was back in his nightmare – Grace in tears, his marks on her skin, and as
she came hard in a seemingly endless wave, he jerked back out of her, his come
spurting forth in an orgasm laced with absolute fear and regret that gave him
no pleasure, even as it painted the skin of her incredible ass.  She slumped
against the cuffs, undone – fucked and marked and wet with his seed, the cheeks
of her ass bright pink and glistening.  Grace moaned a soft little sound that
lashed Matt with the force of a whip.

With
shaking hands, he eased the plug out of her, and then uncuffed her and lowered her
to the bed.  She was nearly asleep, but reached for him.

“Matt?”

He
avoided her clinging hands but tucked a blanket over her, then gathered up the
sex toys.

“I’ll
be right back,” he whispered, “Sleep.

With
a kiss on the forehead, he silently gathered up his clothes, and three shaking
minutes later, was out the door.

AN
HOUR LATER, MATT was sitting at the bar at Clark’s, nursing a drink.  It was
only the tiniest shred of self-preservation that kept him from just downing the
whole bottle.  He felt…confused.  Scared of what he’d done, scared that he’d
liked it, and scared of what would happen next.

Was
she pleased?  Did she enjoy it?  Or did he push her too far?

If
he wasn’t such a fucking coward he would have stayed to ask her.  He could
still smell her on his skin, her arousal and the wildflower scent that always
had him hard as a rock in seconds.

A
hard shove had him sloshing his drink over the bar and he turned to see Russell
Lanksy, his face as red as his hair, arms crossed, defiant.

“You’ve
been poking around in my business, Harris?  If you want to say something to me,
just say it.”

“I’m
helping the Sheriff catch an arsonist, Russell.  Some toes are going to get
stepped on along the way.”

“I
didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then
don’t sweat it,” said Matt and returned to his drink.

“Don’t
sweat it?”  Russell shoved him again, and Matt felt himself tense, “You don’t
have to worry about what people think of you.  You’re Matt Harris, a goddamn
fucking firefighter hero in this town.  I’m already in enough hot water with
Darryl.  I don’t need you making it worse by making everybody think I’m a
firebug!”

Matt
got to his feet, trying to control the anger.

“Fine,
maybe you can tell me why you visited four of the buildings that the arsonist burned. 
And why your brother is so reluctant to hand over an employee list?”

Russell
sneered at him.

“Maybe
my guys don’t want you nosing around in their lives.  It’s not like you keep
your nose clean, either.”  He raised his voice, “I’ve seen you running around
with Grace Mallow.”

Matt
frowned.  This could get out of control if he didn’t watch himself.  A glance
around revealed that conversations had stopped, and a horde of curious eyes
were locked on him.  Russell had better shut his mouth, or he was about to lose
his tongue, permanently.