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I felt him move and heard him pick something up, a strap it turned out, and then he started spanking me, softly at first, stroking my ass with the strap, then harder and harder until he was standing above me, swinging it down with tremendous power.
I grunted as each blow landed.
I heard the strap hit the floor where he'd thrown it. I felt his hand come down on my ass, making it burn hotter. I waited for him to run his fingers between my legs and tell me this was what I wanted.
He didn't. He just rubbed. Quietly, until I turned over and held my arms out. He slid down, then, resting his cheek on my belly, my legs around him, my hands in his hair, his hands on me.
"You could continue going to school," he said and I sucked in a breath, realizing we were having that conversation. "You would have to. School and good grades. Whatever you're doing now. You could do it but live here."
I breathed in slow, watching his head rise and fall with my inhalation and exhale. "You wouldn't be in control."
"Nights I would."
I shook my head. "I have a study group. Without it you wouldn't have known about the raid in time, because I found out from James. He's one of the people in my group."
Was it my imagination or did his fingers pause where they had been tracing patterns on my lower stomach, just inside the curl of my hip bone? Was he jealous? …because if so, that was all right. Because I was jealous about Marilyn. And Ariel. And Chloe. And maybe even Kie.
I didn't want to be back under his thumb. I did and I didn't. Like going home after a vacation and home is welcoming and you're glad to be there at the same time it is wholly unfamiliar. And unwanted.
"I have night classes. I'm working for an attorney's office very part time but I think I'm going to get the job I applied for in the law library. What?"
"You don't have to work." But he didn't sound angry.
"I know." I said it softly. "Thank you. I'm sure you know I've spent almost none of it. I wanted to do this myself."
I thought he said something then about damn stubborn strong women.
But that was when the police came back.
24
Cole
There was time to open the door to the underground and send her down into the hallways. Her clothes were bundled up in her arms. It wasn't until the last minute it occurred to me the dress she'd worn was still in the closet.
There was no reason to assume the police would even blink at the dress. Even if they did, so what? She'd spilled on the dress that was in the tub. Why wouldn't she borrow a dress? And as to why I had a full closet of women's clothes, if any kind of warrant extended that far, so what? I was a busy pharma CEO who took escorts to various events I couldn't logically get out of attending. Maybe I just made it easier for them to dress appropriately. Or easier for me to dress them appropriately.
Never mind all the dresses were the same size.
The decision to hide Annie was automatic. Because they didn't need to know. Because she didn't need to have anything happen that might work against her career plans.
Because it was none of their business.
And because as it was, she possibly had an informant in her study group friend.
"Mr. Cole St. Martin?"
The officer standing on the threshold – where it would make it impossible to close the door again, the door I'd willingly opened – was one of the cops who'd been here earlier. The African American was missing but the blond was still involved.
I looked at him and gave up all pretense at patience. Twice in one night was pushing it. There was a new judge, who thought of himself as the new sheriff in town, kind of a morality upholding bastion of righteousness. All it would mean was a rough patch before something brought him down or someone bought him out. They always acted like this was something new.
So yes, patience snapped. "You know I'm Cole St. Martin. You have photos of me, you're at my house when my dinner party has ended and there's no one else here. I'm the one you served the warrant on how many long, memory challenging hours ago?" I leveled a gaze at the blond.
Like anyone else with a pale complexion, he blushed. "There's no reason to be sarcastic."
"I think there is. This is harassment. You were here already. You found nothing. You've now got me out of bed for whatever this is. What would you call it?"
Obviously he'd have to call it harassment, too, because he didn't answer. He just said, "I have a warrant," and produced it.
