Chapter Nine
There was a smoky dive just across the street from his building. Grace had seen it a dozen times on her way to his place. Its tinted windows, neon signs and creepy outer atmosphere ensured that she never gave it a second glance. The bar fly life had never held any charms for her, and even if it had, that place was several rungs below what she'd consider decent drinking digs. As the adage went, what would a nice girl like her be doing in a dump like that?
But tonight didn't find a nice girl.
Tonight found a working girl. And she was making the rounds.
She sat at the bar in a tiny black dress that nearly counted as underwear. She fought her prim upbringing and kept her legs sprawled out suggestively instead of tucked together under the bar's ledge. Her eyes were blackened with smoky makeup. Her lips were ruby red. Her hands did their best not to shake as she reached for her drink and she took a sip of Dutch courage.
"I don't understand." His eyes looked hurt. "Am I doing something wrong?"
"Never," she swore adamantly, framing his face in her hands. "You're perfect. You're everything I've ever wanted."
"Then I don't get it, why bring Jane into this? Why are you talking to him at all about us?" There was a slight spark of indignation in his tone.
She did her best to soothe it. "Because being with you has…I dunno…it's given me all of these ideas. Stuff I never would have even considered before. You," she kissed him softly, "make me feel so safe. I want to try everything with you. Every single thing."
He still didn't look convinced, his baby blues uncertain. "I'm willing, Grace. We don't need Jane for anything. Just tell me what you want and I'll give it to you. Surely, you know that by now. I'll give you anything you want."
She smiled at this. "Then I ask for your trust. Let Jane hypnotize you. You'll be aware the whole time and you'll remember everything afterwards, I promise."
"What will he tell me to do?" Grace could see his worry increasing. Already, he didn't trust himself to give up any control. "What are you going to make him suggest?"
Her smile became strained. She didn't want to tell him anything more. It would upset him, and Jane had explained that if Rigsby walked in upset, his subconscious would fight the suggestion. She needed him calm.
She stroked his cheeks. "Do you trust me, Wayne? Really trust me?"
He snorted softly, turning his lips into her palm. "You know I do."
"Then let me try this. Please? Just breathe deep and trust that I'll take care of us. Of you."
He opened his mouth to argue further, but paused when he caught her wide, encouraging gaze. He closed it again and sighed. "All right."
All right.
All right?
Hell, Grace felt about as far away from all right as humanly possible. She'd explained to Jane what she wanted, and shortly after that he and Rigsby had met quietly in one of the interrogation rooms just before it was time to go home. While they were inside, Grace had packed up and left.
Jane knew where she'd be. He'd tell Rigsby where to find her. She knew they were finished, too. Jane had sent a text saying so. He'd also explained the trigger, should this little experiment of hers fly south and Wayne became too much for her to handle.
She liked the idea of him being too much for her to handle. She also feared it so much that her palms were breaking out in sweat.
And now that she was waiting for him, looking fit to kill and having no idea what kind of man was going to walk through that door. She felt so nervous that she was almost sick to her stomach.
What if Jane was right? What if the man he unlocked was dangerous? What if she upset him? What if he reacted with force like he had before? Was his love for her strong enough to overcome his violence if she provoked him?
She took another sip and shivered. That was the rub, right there. She knew he'd keep himself in line…unless she provoked him. And that was the plan. Have Jane tear down his restraint, and then aggravate him. Chum the water, bait the shark, and then jump in without a cage.
Christ, she had to be insa—
"Evening, pretty girl. Buy you another?"
A dark voice startled her from her thoughts and made her jump. She looked up from her glass and was confronted with a leering stranger.
A stranger disguised in her lover's body.
She swallowed slowly, shrugging indifferently. Time to play her part. "Can if you want."
His leer didn't slip as he sat in the stool next to her, turning towards her so that his knees brushed her bare legs and his gaze traveled appreciatively down her body. She tried not to shiver as she felt his eyes touch her everywhere. "You always accept drinks from strange men while wearing half a dress?"
She turned in her stool to face him, pushing her legs away from his, but accidentally giving him an eyeful of her ample cleavage. She glared coolly. "Only if the drink is leading somewhere else."
His eyes raised in amusement. Grace noticed that he was every bit as handsome as her sweetheart, but his sweet, boyish quality had disappeared entirely. He wasn't a cute guy tonight. He was a ladykiller. "You on the prowl, honey?"
She kept her eyes calm. No turning back now. Time to see how Other Wayne responded to an upsetting scenario. She threw the first bucket of blood into the water. Here fishy, fishy, fishy.
"I'm on the clock."
The effect was instantaneous.
The flirtatious amusement died in his eyes. They became blue glaciers in a blink. He sat back slightly. When his eyes ran over her body a second time, a chilly, business-like quality entered his appraisal. "I see."
"Sorry to disappoint," she sipped her drink. "But I'm not here to meet Mr. Right. However," she drew her eyes over him with the same distant appreciation, "there's a table of doe-eyed women over in the corner just waiting for a tall, dark and handsome man like yourself to walk over and—,"
"How much?" He cut her off. His long frame settled backwards, his lower lip pressed upwards and accentuated the sexy curve of his mouth. She pretended not to notice. Her character wouldn't have.
She dropped her voice to a husky whisper. "That depends on many things."
When he smirked this time, it didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, I just bet it does."
She shrugged again and turned back to her drink, signaling that she didn't do business with angry, indignant men. "You obviously don't approve. I suggest you stop wasting your time with me. Go find a nice girl to charm with those big, blue eyes."
He was silent, but she could feel the heat of his gaze burning through her dress and cutting through her hair that had fallen across her face. What was he thinking? she thought to herself. What was he going to do?
"My place is across the street. Shall we discuss your rates there?"
This surprised her. She turned back to him. "You're sure? You don't look like my average client." More blood flung into the water.
She saw the muscle tick in his jaw. Oh, yes. That had angered him. "Meaning?"
She pursed her lips. "Nothing. You just don't look like the type who'd need to pay."
He snorted derisively and stood up, holding out his hand. "First time for everything. You coming or what?"
She regarded his hand closely, not entirely trusting it. "Just across the street?"
He nodded sharply. She drew a resolute breath and stood up. As she did so, she caught him eyeing her legs. She was wearing four-inch heels, something she'd never worn for him before. There was a flicker of surprise in his expression. In these shoes, she was nearly as tall as he was. She grabbed her purse and took his hand. "Okay."
She felt her first glimmer of hope as she took his hand. Despite his overt aggression, his grip was warm and gentle. He didn't tug at her impatiently. He calmly led her out of that dingy joint, staying close as they walked across the way. His proximity allowed her to study him out of the corner of her eye as they made their way to his place. His gait, she noticed, was different. It wasn't angry, exactly. He wasn't bunched up or tense. But he wasn't loose either, nor did he turn into her like Sweet Wayne always did. Usually when he walked, he didn't simply fall in step beside her. He twisted his torso towards her, watching her, talking to her. His feet would slide sideways, opening his whole body towards her.
Someone else was walking beside her now.
He walked like a man in charge. He didn't turn towards anybody. He didn't talk. He didn't glance over. Walking shoulder to shoulder with him and nearly equaling his height, Grace still felt small. Sweet Wayne had always wrapped himself around her, even when they were just walking down the street. Other Wayne didn't wrap around. He bumped against.
It was a subtle difference. She gulped nervously.
He led her up the outside steps and along the landing to his door. He keyed the lock, pushed it open and gestured inside. "Ladies first."
She nodded and stepped inside the familiar front room in a totally alien circumstance. Her heels clicked loudly across the wooden floor as she wandered to the center of the room. She wiped her sweaty palms on down the front of her dress before she turned back to the sound of a closing door.
"So, this is your place," she offered by way of conversation.
Leaning against the front door, he made no move into the room. "Yep."
She turned slowly, pretending to look but really avoiding his penetrating stare. "It's nice."
"Thank you."
She sighed shakily and smiled. "Well, I normally start by asking you what you want."
Through his open collar, she saw his pulse throbbing steadily. Other than that, he was motionless. "What I want?" His voice had a light, mocking edge.
She nodded and licked her lips. "I can't give you my price until you tell me what you want."
"Right," he drew out slowly. "Your price." He pushed off the door and walked towards her slowly. The predatory glint in his eye made her take an involuntary step back. She'd seen his desire before, but there was something else…something threatening in the way he was looking at her. She inhaled sharply.
"What do I call you, sweetheart?" he asked.
She took another step back as he continued to stalk forward. "Hope."
"Hope," he whispered softly. "Very pretty."
"What do I call you?" She hadn't meant to whimper.
Without breaking eye contact, his hand slid down his chest and grabbed the hem of his lose shirt, pulling it away from his belt where his badge glinted in the dim light. "You can call me Agent."
What?
"Oh, shit," she uttered in panic. She was only half-pretending to be afraid. The way he was grinning at her, the leering sexual arousal she saw radiating off him as he took delight in cornering her, they caused a bolt of fright to spike in her chest. She gasped softly.
I offer myself to him as a prostitute and he's going to arrest me?
"Oh, shit is right, honey. You've propositioned an officer of the law. I'm afraid that's very, very bad news for you."
"I'm…I'm sorry," she sputtered softly. "I didn't realize." Suddenly her back hit the wall and he was right in front of her, his adorable face cut into angry lines. Suddenly her instructions to Jane smacked her across the face.
"I want him play along, no holding back."
Jane had been skeptical. "You're planning to upset him."
She'd nodded. "In the worst way I can think of."
And now here she was. She wasn't the love of his life like he wanted her to be. She was a whore. And he was just a john. He meant nothing to her. Never would. A thousand men had taken her and she'd gladly let them for a price. She knew this scenario would have hurt Sweet Wayne. He would have pulled his punches if he'd encountered her this way. But Other Wayne?
Her breath caught in her throat at the look in this man's eye.
Other Wayne was enraged. No one touched her but him. No one was ever allowed in her bed or her heart but him. She was forbidden to love anyone else. She was definitely forbidden to fuck anyone else.
"I want him to react the way he wants to. I want him to say exactly what he's thinking."
"Grace, his reactions and words won't be soft."
"I know, Jane. I know."
Her wide, liquid eyes met his. "Please. Please, don't arrest me. Just…just let me go. I promise I'll stay out of that place from now on."
He moved in even closer. His chest and hips brushed hers and she instinctively sensed danger and shoved herself even harder into the wall behind her. "You're not walking away from this, honey. I'm not letting you go, only to arrest you later for fucking some john in an alleyway. No," his voice dropped lower, "the best way to keep you from screwing for money is to lock you up."
She shivered against him and raised her palms to his chest, trying to put a barrier—however small—between them. "No," she mewled quietly. "Please."
He brought his hands up to the wall, trapping her head. He only had to lean down an inch or two to meet her lips before he whispered against them. "Tell me why I should let a whore walk?"
He'd said it out loud. Not honey. Not baby. Whore. Grace felt a chill of sublime, sinful pleasure that raised her hackles and made her nipples tighten against her dress. "Because I'm a good person," she offered breathily. "A good girl."
He laughed harshly and gripped her chin lightly in his hand, examining her, turning her face this way and that. "Too much lipstick for a good girl," he tsked her, releasing her roughly.
"Tell you what," he said, leaning back a few inches. "You do exactly as I tell you, and I might let you go instead of hauling your ass downtown."
She nodded quickly. "Anything. Please, just don't take me in."
"We'll see," he stepped away from her and walked over to his sofa, sitting down with his arms and legs spread wide.
She breathed in relief and stepped forward. She waited with nervous expectation as he eyed her. He obviously wanted something, but his lack of instruction was spooking her.
"What is it you want from me?" She was scared to ask, but he'd made it clear she couldn't go until she did as he said.
"I told you you're wearing too much lipstick for a good girl," he informed her with dark irritation.
She immediately brought the back of her hand to her lips.
"No!" he barked loudly, almost jumping off the couch towards her menacingly. She jumped and immediately lowered her hand.
He settled back again. "You're going to wrap your lips around my cock and suck until it's all wiped off."
Oh, my God.
Grace gasped loudly, her knees trembling as her fear level spiked at the same time as her arousal. Never, never had Wayne ordered her to suck him off. He'd asked. He'd teased. He'd stated. He'd even begged without shame. But he'd never looked her dead in the eye and commanded her to get on her knees. And never would he have used it as blackmail; within the scenario, make her do it against her will. She was terrified and angry and so turned on that she didn't know how to respond.
"Was I not clear?" he asked angrily, slowly starting to get up again. "I said come over here, take out my dick, put it in that gorgeous mouth of yours and paint it until your lips are nice and pink again."
He reached behind his back and yanked his cuffs out, dangling them from his fingers. "Or we can end this right now."
"No!" she cried out sharply. She came towards him slowly. "All right, I'll do it."
He smirked without apology. "Suck me like a pro, baby. It's the only way you're walking out of here. You bite me," he reached up and tugged her to her knees in front of him, "and you'll be very sorry."
He leaned back again. "Unzip me."
Grace bit her lips, edging further into the V of his thighs, and reached for his fly. "I do this," she whispered, "and I can just leave?"
He was already straining hard behind his jeans. He chuckled cruelly as she slowly opened his pants. "Absolutely. Just consider this pro bono work."
She carefully tugged him free of his clothes, gasping like she always did at how thick and beautifully hung her boyfriend was.
The scenario dropped away for a second as Grace admired him. He was still her sweetheart, the adorable man who loved and cherished her above all else. He had put himself into a dark place at her request. He was responding to the enraging idea that she didn't belong to him, and actually belonged to anyone who paid for her services. She had wanted to see this side of him. Now, having released it, she was going to obey his demands to the letter.
"You really don't need me," she whispered softly, tracing his shaft with loving attention. "You could have any girl you wanted."
She looked up in time to see his eyes soften slightly before he caught her looking and hardened them again. "I don't need the flattery part of your package. Just blow me until I tell you to stop."
She felt another course of wetness surge between her thighs at his harsh words. Still trusting him no matter what, she lowered her head and gently suckled his tip.
His loud hiss startled her. She flinched and looked up.
"Don't look at me," he warned hotly, blue fire snapping in his eyes as his lips pulled back in pleasure. "Keep your eyes down."
She moaned around his tip and lowered her gaze. Her core began to throb and clench as she worked her lips lower down his girth. He was hard as steel in her mouth. His familiar taste filled her and drove her wild. And his terrifying alter ego gave her the same death-defying rush that she imagined acrobats felt, the only difference being that, thanks to Jane, she was working without a net. She had to keep him happy. Or else. Right now it didn't seem to be a problem.
"Just like that," he grunted. He began stroking her loose hair as she worked him slightly faster in her mouth. She did as he wished, pushing her lips hard into his velvety skin and smudging his cock with rings of red. Out of the habit of wanting to please him, she pinched his base between her fingers and shook in double time with the strokes of her tongue. He groaned and gripped her hair harder, guiding her as she moved.
"That's right, honey…suck me…Christ, that feels good…too fucking good…You blow every guy like this? Huh? Just another dick to suck dry?"
She lifted slightly and shook her head, still looking down. He snorted and pushed her head back down. "Of course not. I'm special, right?" He cupped her cheeks and drove up slightly into her mouth, fucking her for her dishonestly. "Don't lie to me, bitch. Don't tell me you're some beautiful cocksucking angel who fell from Heaven just to blow me."
He thrust into her mouth again, growling with lust.
Grace moaned again, her throat filling with him. Bitch. Angel. Other Wayne certainly had an exhilarating way with words. She had to remind herself that it was all make-believe. She wasn't really a whore. He wasn't really a bastard. This was a situation of her own making. She redoubled her efforts to make him happy.
She sucked him so hard that her cheeks hollowed out.
"Fuck!" he barked loudly.
She released him and licked her way to his balls. "You taste so good," she whispered distractedly, loving how the loose skin tightened under her tongue. "I don't usually like doing this with johns, but you," she sucked his sack lightly, "you're different. You're delicious."
A huge bucket of blood thrown right in the great white's face. It was a terrible risk and she knew it. She was being completely honest, of course. He was delicious. She only enjoyed this act with him and never really had before. But in their scenario, he could easily construe it as shameless flattery, designed to win him over and let her go. She supposedly blew men for a living. Why would he be any different?
She felt him watching her intently as she continued to lick him like ice cream. She just closed her eyes and let herself enjoy it, hoping he saw her sincerity. When she pulled his sack gently into her mouth and nursed it while her hand worked his shaft, he bucked hard and whispered one word that made her heart sing.
"Baby," he rasped quietly.
Grace hummed around him and shivered with delight. Sweet Wayne had just said that. She was certain of it. It was such a soft, loving sound. He was there too, not just the anger, but the sensitive man who knew this was all a sham. He loved her and loved when she adored his body like this. He believed he was special. Even though he was under a powerful suggestion telling him otherwise, she had the power to convince him he was loved.
For a moment.
"Stand up," he ordered low.
She looked up in surprise. Gone already was the man who's whispered to her so lovingly. Other Wayne had taken control again. He was still in her mouth, straining into her tongue and lips, but his words were implacable. She let him slip from between her lips. He smiled darkly as he looked down at himself.
"Look at all that lipstick," he motioned to the bright red color painting his skin. He reached out and trapped her cheek in his palm and brought her face within an inch of his. "You might be an amazing little cocksucker, sweetie, but at least you don't look like one anymore." His thumb grazed her clean lips.
She trembled in his hand. "Is that all? I can go now?" Was that really all he wanted? Was he going to end this after a few minutes of fellatio? She waited with wide eyes.
"Stand up," he repeated. "Don't make me say it again."
She nodded timidly and obeyed, getting to her feet between his thighs. He gazed lecherously as her bare legs stretched out in front of him, their slim supple lines ending just underneath her tiny black dress. Without warning, he reached out and slipped his hand between her inner thighs and cupped her.
She gasped sharply, nearly collapsing at the sudden invasion while he grunted in aroused fury when he came into contact with nothing but smooth skin.
"Waxed," he purred. "Waxed and soaking wet. You've clearly found your calling."
"You…" she rasped brokenly. "You said I only had to suck you and I could…go…oh, God."
His fingers worked their way between her slippery folds and began stroking softly while his words fell like jagged stones.
"I said you had to suck me," he rumbled, slipping a single finger into her core and making her jolt. "I didn't say that was all you had to do."
"Damn you," she hissed. Half of her meant it. For him, she was instantly this woman. This whore. She'd give him anything he wanted, any way he wanted it. It drove her crazy to know he had that power over her.
Still fingering her softly, he reached down and jerked his badge off his belt before standing up and circling around her. She faced an empty couch as he stood behind her, one hand buried between her thighs and creating enough electricity to power Detroit. She sobbed softly as his finger pulled out of her and slid up to her clit where it rubbed in slow, agonizing circles.
She cried out when something cold slipped between her legs, just where his finger had been. Its wide, bumpy surface pressing into her pussy and rubbing back and forth, creating sensations that had her bucking into him against her will and keening.
"Look at you," he hissed in ear. His two hands worked between her legs as he spoke. "Look how bad you want it. Don't whine to me about leaving," he moved to her other ear, "when it's so obvious that you need to get fucked."
"I don't need anything." Hope's character spat angrily. "So fuck you."
He laughed and pressed harder between her thighs and she cried out, furious with herself for letting him see her pleasure. He removed his hands and showed her.
"Look what you've done," he hissed hotly. His badge was glistening between his fingers. He'd been using it to rub against her folds. "You got come all over my badge. What kind of girl gets this wet when she's barely been touched?"
"Fuck you, cop," she hissed louder, shocked by the sight of his badge dripping with her excitement. This man, whoever he was, had a shocking talent for erotica.
She gasped again when her tiny dress was yanked clean above her hips and her bare ass felt his pulsing cock brush against it.
"Oh, I'm going to get fucked. Don't you worry, baby." He threw his badge on the couch and gripped her hips in both hands. "Lean forward."
She whimpered. "Please," she entreated. She wanted and feared him so much that he knees were shaking. "Please."
Her plea fell on unsympathetic ears. His hands slid over her outer thighs in sleazy strokes as he spoke. "Lock your knees, baby. Keep'em that way until I'm finished."
She whimpered again and leaned forward, bracing her hands on the couch cushions. She heard him groan appreciatively at her submissive position, her flawless ass and dripping center exciting his already feral hormones. She felt him position himself at her entrance. A familiar feeling. But the context was outrageous and she was more than a little scared. His hands tightened on her hips as he readied himself, purposefully delaying his entry to make sure he had her full attention.
"Now," he grated softly. "I'm gonna fuck you, Hope. I'm going to fuck and fuck and fuck some more until your little pussy is begging for mercy. I'm going to make you sorry you ever chose this line of work, honey." He ran his finger gently over her folds again and she sobbed.
"I'm going to wreck you."
He removed his finger, gripped her in both hands and drove deep.
"Aaaaaaah!" Grace cried loud and long as he thrust sharply all the way inside her, stretching her throbbing core and filling her with terror and lust. She heard him growl as he yanked her backwards and thrust again, no tenderness in his actions as he drove deep and moaned harshly behind her.
"Sooooo good," he breathed reverently.
He thrust again roughly. His eyes nearly crossed as her clenching walls squeezed him with equal amounts of love and fright. Thanks to Jane's trance, he had almost no self-control. He began to pump at a forceful, punishing pace. "I bet your johns pay in diamonds for a fuck this tight."
"Oh, my God!" Grace cried out from her bent position as he pistoned in and out of her. Huge amounts of adrenaline were pumping through her system. His cruel words and brutal thrusts made the sensations he was creating in her body all the more amazing. Thankfully rough sex wasn't unusual for them. Not only could she could take it without pain, she arched her back and gave him a better angle for deeper penetration.
He felt his cock slip deeper inside her and chuckled darkly, caressing the globes of her ass before pulling back and slapping it lightly. "Tight as a virgin, but begging for it like a slut. You like this?" He drove in three, hard thrusts, making her groan with each one. "That's right," he slapped her ass again. He stopped mid-thrust and held still inside her. Grace immediately sobbed with impatience and asked for more.
She heard his smile. "You want it so bad? Fuck me then."
She whimpered and obeyed once again, rocking back on her high heels, filling herself with him as she glided gently back and forth.
He moaned hotly at the sight of her beautiful body welcoming him in again and again in soft little strokes. Her position didn't give her the leverage to push hard, so she concentrated on leaning all the way forward, letting him slip almost all the way out before leaning back and consuming all of him again.
It felt so wildly good that words fell from her lips without her knowledge. "Yes…please, baby…more…I need harder…you feel so good…so big…love how you fuck me…please…"
She didn't see what her words did to him as she rocked gently back and forth on his dick. She couldn't see the battle in his eyes as his rage at their game and his overwhelming love for her fought for control over his mouth and body. Sweet Wayne wanted to toss her over his shoulder, take her into his bed, and make love to her gently all night long. Other Wayne didn't want this whore anywhere near the bed where he took his girlfriend. She wasn't clean enough. Wasn't angelic enough. He just wanted to punish her for being Hope instead of Grace. He roared his frustration as the two sides attacked each other for dominance.
She gasped when he grabbed her hips mid-rock and jerked her backwards, impaling her. "Yes!" she murmured hotly, squeezing her inner muscles, rewarding him for giving her the force she wanted.
"You like how I fuck you?" he asked menacingly as he resumed his manic pace.
"Yes," she answered breathlessly.
"What about this?" he rumbled, his thumb pressing deep into her ass. "This part of your package, too?"
She exhaled sharply at the invasion and answered without thinking. "No."
"Please," he snorted, pressing harder into the tiny hole and receiving a pleasured sob in return. "Everything's for sale with you. You're a hooker."
"Not that," she retorted angrily and she gripped the cushion, fighting the ecstasy off so she could think clearly. "The only man I've ever loved owns that. No one else."
He moaned with pleasure and Grace's eyes rolled up at their conundrum. She was refusing him entry, but only because it belonged to the real him and not some jerkoff cop who blackmailed hookers into fucking him.
She didn't have long to contemplate the irony as his pounding thrusts made her orgasm and tore a scream from her throat. She bucked into his hips, her body clenching him and dragging him further inside. "Yes!" she shrieked mindlessly, her whole body shuddering with euphoria. "Oh, my God, yes. Fuck me! Wayne!"
Another terrifying battle flitted through his eyes as his angel screamed his name in ecstasy.
As she panted and sobbed her way through the last ripples of pleasure, the conflicted man withdrew from her fluttering, beautiful heat and eased himself gently into her ass, one careful pump at a time.
Grace, nearly insensible from her release and ingnorant about his destination, tensed instantly and almost collapsed into the couch.
"I said lock your knees," his words were harsh, but his voice was soft.
"I told you," she said brokenly, already loving the way her body slowly opened to his assault. "That belongs to one man."
"Oh, we'll see." He gently pushed until her body embraced all of him, her impossibly tight heat boiling him alive and forcing reverent obscenities from his lips.
As he began to pump, he asked over her soft moans. "Tell me, Hope, does he fuck you in the ass as good as I do? Did you moan this sweet when he took this cherry?"
She murmured something he couldn't hear.
"What?" He drove slightly harder.
"He's perfect," she called out in a groan. "He's the best fuck I've ever had and I love him."
He sped up and Grace nearly blacked out with over-stimulated pleasure.
It took all of Rigsby's strength no to black out with her, but his warring factions wouldn't let this impossible situation go. The sweet schoolboy and the animal fought tooth and nail inside him as he continued to plunge between her tight walls.
"No!" he gritted out, yanking her hips against his and letting his hands rove over her dress. "This is mine." He clasped his hands wide over her body, meaning all of her.
"Ha!" she purred cruelly. "I'm a hooker, remember? I'll walk out of here and fuck a hundred guys by morning. And every single time I'll be thinking about him. He's everything to me." She remembered something he'd said on their stakeout and threw it back at him. "He is the great love of my life."
The schoolboy. The animal. The man who walked between the two worlds. They all roared in fury as he drove without mercy into her ass.
"I fuck you!" he raged. "I love you! No one else. Another man even looks at you and I'll kill him. You ever look at another man and I'll chain to our bed. You hear me?"
His frenzied thrusts pushed her over again. She screamed for the second time with his name tumbling from her lips. "Yes!" she agreed willingly. "Love you! Just you! Wayne, oh, my God. YESSSSSSSSSS!"
Her submission to him is what did him in. As she—Grace—screamed out to him, he drove deep one more time and came with an agonized shout. Without a condom, his semen shot deep into her body, his eyes clenching tight as all of his different factions froze up in ecstasy and screamed for the one woman whom all of them loved.
"Grace," he called out hoarsely. It was the first time he'd said her name.
Grace nearly sobbed in triumph as she felt him shiver against her back, the residual waves of pleasure nearly dropping him to the floor. She disobeyed his command and stood up. Their bodies were still link as she reached her arms back and clasped them to his neck. "Wayne," she whispered gently. "My Wayne."
He panted harshly in her ear. She could feel the sweat drenching his nape as his arms slid around her waist and held her to him with aching tenderness. "Grace," he answered. "My Grace."
They held each other for a moment as they slowly came back down. Still clothed but not even noticing, they held each other until their brains finally rebooted.
She turned slowly in his arms, disengaging from him before searching for his hug. She wanted to just dive straight into his chest and under his chin, but he held her off gently.
His eyes, though much calmer, still looked conflicted as she gazed at them with sated happiness. "Come here," he pulled her with him down the hall. He led her by the hand into his bathroom where he ran a cloth under some warm water. Her dress was still pulled up to her waist, so he carefully pulled her to him, lifting one of her feet to the rim of the tub. Smiling at her, he held her by the waist and slipped the cloth between her legs, cleaning her off with gentle dabs.
She closed her eyes and smiled back. She knew this man well. When he finished, he cleaned himself off quickly before leading her to his room where he quickly unzipped her dress and shirked out of his own clothes. She kicked off her very high heels and suddenly their noticeable height difference was restored.
Pulling the covers back, he laid her down gently before slipping in beside her.
She tried to hug him again, but again he stopped her.
Her eyes widened, hurt. "I can't hold you?"
He smiled gently and shook his head. "Take me out of it first."
She cocked her head and stroked his cheek comfortingly. "You're already out of it. I heard it in your voice." She gave him an encouraging look.
He shook his head again. "I'm not. I can feel it. And I'm not touching you again until I know I can control myself."
She continued to caress his cheek. "You were amazing tonight. You made me feel things…I…I don't even know how to explain." She sighed.
He reached up and stilled her hand. "Grace. Please."
She nodded slowly and reached for him. When he pulled back sharply, she only smiled and explained. "The trigger. I need to touch you for the trigger."
He relaxed again and she cupped his cheeks in her hands and pressed a soft kiss into his lips. "Delaware," she whispered against them.
Neither quite knew what to expect at her incantation. Rigsby didn't turn into a pumpkin, nor did he morph into a respectable Victorian copy of Dr. Jekyll. His body didn't change at all. Only his eyes flooded with intense relief and he returned her soft kiss, folding her up in his arms and pulling her flush against his naked body. She sighed happily and came willingly.
"Do you feel different?" she asked as she wrapped him in a hug of her own.
"A little," he murmured, skimming kisses down her throat. "Jesus Christ, baby. What have I done to you?"
His lament made her smile. Oh, if only he knew. "You trusted me," she answered, pulling his face back to hers so that he could see her lack of fear or pain. "And you let me experience you without any control."
She kissed his forehead reverently as he let out a shaky sigh. "It felt like rape, sweetheart."
She pulled back quickly and shook her head. "It felt like Heaven. Everything you did, I wanted. Don't ever doubt that." She pulled herself higher on the pillows and urged him to rest his head on her chest. Broken and exhausted, he came without a struggle. As his cheek nuzzled her breast, she giggled as his soft hair tickled her chin. She held his head in both hands, stroking his hair as she spoke.
"I've asked a lot from you. I know it. But I expected and wanted everything that we did tonight. I only hope that you enjoyed it as much as I did."
He was silent.
She continued to pet him, letting him process in his own time. At length, he spoke. "It fuckin' terrifies me how much I enjoyed it."
She hummed contentedly. "I'm very glad to hear it."
His arms went around her back and he squeezed her so hard that she gave a gasping giggle.
"It's not funny," he hissed hotly against her breast. "I could have really hurt you."
She stopped laughing and held him closer. "Don't you see, baby? Nothing you do can hurt me. You could break my bones during sex and I'd probably die from pleasure. You," she coasted her hands over his back and arms, "are perfect. Your reaction will never be wrong. I learned that tonight. And just you watch. Tomorrow morning I won't have a single scratch on me."
He huffed in frustration. "I loved how we felt tonight," he conceded, "but I don't want you to ever be afraid of me again. I could hear it in your voice and I couldn't stop myself from absolutely loving it. I wanted you to be afraid." He confessed dejectedly.
"And I wanted you to be angry," she countered evenly. "We're even."
He sighed again. "Sleep in my arms tonight. I need you close."
She laughed musically. "I always sleep in your arms."
"Closer," he argued, pushing more tightly into her. "Christ, I can never get close enough."
