If Handcuffs Could Talk
Chapter 04
by Marilyn (Ranger Hunters) and Kevan
uploaded by Alfonsina
Second Kiss (Bobby)Just like last Saturday, Rav kissed me. This time, he surprised me between the kitchen and living room and pinned me against the wall. My prior impression was confirmed. The man knew how to kiss. Just when I was starting to wonder what else he could do with that oh so talented tongue, he broke off and thrust something into my hand.
I took it without thinking and looked down. Handcuffs.
"Yours from last week—and I did scream your name." He sauntered into the kitchen with a satisfied smirk.
I plopped down on the sofa. "I'm straight," I said. Why did it sound like I was trying to convince myself despite my body's obvious approval of Rav's kiss?
Az chuckled. "He does know how to kiss, doesn't he?"
"Uh yeah…it's just that…."
"You're straight. Last week was the first time you kissed a guy. And you're not sure how you feel about the fact that you enjoyed it."
Az was perceptive, I noted. How did I feel about my reaction to Rav's kiss? I wasn't repulsed or offended—which surprised me. I wasn't shocked. Hell, I'd enjoyed it, but I didn't know if I wanted to repeat it. Whatever happened, I sure as hell wouldn't forget it anytime soon.
"Sex is indulgence. It's feeling good. It isn't about whether you've got a penis or a vagina. It's as much in the mind as the body and it's not something you should stress over. It's a voyage of exploration."
I blew out a breath. "Too deep for me, man."
Az laughed. "Nice deflection. Okay, so tell me why you watched us dance the other night."
"Insomnia. I couldn't sleep. Got up and thought I'd surf the web but out of habit I brought up the video feeds. I saw you and I was intrigued because, well, it was 3 a.m. and it almost looked like ballet and some of it looked like martial arts, but then it didn't. I was trying to figure out what kind of dance or workout it was but then I turned the sound on and realized it was just you—dancing to your personal soundtrack. And your choice of music intrigued me."
Az didn't reply right off and I thought maybe he wouldn't. He's not a talkative guy, not like Lester who needs a mute button installed.
"It was ballet—and martial arts. Some of the moves, anyway. My mother was Russian—a ballerina—so she taught me when I was little. And my father was Japanese. He was into the whole bushido thing so I learned a lot about martial arts from him." Az shrugged. "It's just part of me. I grew up with the moves, and they're still natural. I don't even think about it."
I blinked. Az had just told me a lot about himself in a few sentences. Real stuff about himself, not bullshit, superficial crap you tell people to get them to stop prying and go away.
In my mind, I could still see the way Az moved. The way his body flexed and stretched. And I could still see Rav—the way he danced separate but connected more intimately than if they'd been touching. Mind. Body. Just what Az had been talking about. This was way out of my depth.
Crap. I had to get the memories of that night out of my mind. They were making me ask questions I wasn't sure I wanted the answers to and think things I knew I didn't want to think. And my body was reacting in ways I definitely didn't want to think about. Time for another beer.
Az sprawled across the chair, eyes closed, arm thrown across his face, and smiled a tiny smile. "Confused or interested?"
I nearly choked on the swallow of beer I'd just taken.
Az progressed from the tiny smile to a chuckle.
I had no idea what to say. No idea what was expected of me.
"Bobby," Az said as he opened his eyes and looked at me. "Rav and I already told you we'd like to have you in our bed. Yes, we talked about it before we invited you for dinner the first time. We figured if we got lucky, you'd end up in bed with us. If not, we'd get to know you better and Rav could show off his cooking to somebody besides just me. You watched us dancing until we quit, not just for a few minutes, so we figured you liked what you saw and might appreciate some things—food, art, conversation—more than a lot of the other guys.
"When Rav kisses you, he's not trying to seduce you. You made your decision that first night and we respect it, but Rav's sense of humor is warped. Not as bad as Lester's but it's out there. He thinks it's funny to see how you react."
"So, if I stop reacting, he'll stop kissing me?"
"Hmmm," Az paused for a minute, then sat up. "Probably not. Not reacting would probably inspire him to do something else. Most likely something worse. The best way to get him to stop is to one up him—pretty much the only way to stop him. That or shoot him."
"Maybe I'll just kick his ass sparring one day," I said.
Az shook his head. "Probably you don't want to go up against Rav for real. He's a black belt—5th dan or the equivalent—in four forms of martial arts and he's one of the most vicious street-fighters I've ever seen."
Crap. Az was right. I didn't want to go up against Rav for real. He would wipe the floor with me. He must hold back when he sparred with the guys, even— "What about Ranger?" Ranger regularly made you meet him on the mats and kicked your ass when you screwed up. Although come to think of it, I'd never seen him do it with Rav. Then again, I'd never seen Rav screw up.
A shit-eating grin spread across Az's face. "Rav kicked his ass in less than two minutes."
"Oh gods, I wish I'd seen that! I could have sold tickets."
Rules Violation (Bobby)"Malware's sister? No way."
Tank nodded. "Way. She's visiting from California. He's been introducing her around this morning."
She looked like the quintessential California girl—tall, leggy, blonde, tan. She also looked a lot like the women in my erotic dreams.
Malware's sister.
Shit. That meant she was off limits. Most of the guys weren't overly burdened with morals but one rule we all observed: family was off limits for sex, dating, and relationships. It was a good rule. One that had probably prevented a number of murders.
Her smile lit up her face as she laughed at something Lester was saying to her. It was a good laugh—warm, rich, pitched just right to go straight to my groin. And then she caught her lower lip in her teeth.
Oh gods! Kill me now. Just looking at her from across the office, my cock was hard enough to use as a hammer to drive nails. And she was off limits. I groaned, trying to do it quietly so she wouldn't hear.
Tank, the heartless bastard, clapped a hand on my shoulder. He knew what my ideal woman looked like and he knew she fit that image to a t. To a capital T. To perfection.
"Sorry, Bobby."
He wasn't sorry. The prick. He was laughing at me, and he knew I knew it.
"Is this seat taken?"
I looked up from my lunch to see Katja, Malware's sister, standing beside my table. She looked luscious, legs that seemed to go on forever between high heels and a short skirt, eyes sparkling, a hint of a smile.
My brain froze. In the week she'd been in town, I had jerked off more than any time since I was a teenager and just looking at her standing there my cock was rapidly approaching the state where I was going to have to provide my own relief again.
She tilted her head and pointed to the seat across from me. "The seat. Is it taken?"
"Uh, no," I managed.
She plunked a bowl of salad and a glass of water on the table and sat down.
"You're a hard man to meet, Bobby," she said as she unrolled her silverware and selected the fork.
Hard. Yeah, I'm a hard man. My cock is as hard as it's ever been and I'm not going to be able to stand up any time soon. Please, don't let one of the guys call and need help with something because walking out of here with a world-class boner would be humiliating. "Uh, really?" Brilliant. My brain was still frozen.
She took a bite of her salad.
I watched, mesmerized by the way her lips closed around the fork. Imagined them closing around my cock. It took all my self-control not to groan out loud.
"I've been trying to get you alone."
Alone? I had no idea how to respond to that, so I opted for silence. My cock knew how to respond; it twitched its approval.
She ate another bite of salad, licking a bit of dressing off the lettuce first. Crap! When did eating a salad become an erotic exercise?
"Alone because I wanted to give you something and my brother can be an overprotective pain in the ass."
I swallowed hard. Twice. Ass. She said ass. That was all it took to have my mind imagining how her bare ass would look bent over my knees. Her skin would be tanned and velvet smooth when I ran my hand over it and— Stop! I gave myself a mental head slap. Family is off limits.
She smiled at me like she had a secret.
That was when I felt her foot trail up my calf and thigh, coming to rest with the toe of her high heel against my crotch. My cock was definitely going to burst through my pants.
And then… dear gods… she picked up one of those little tomatoes out of the salad with her fingers and raised it to her lips. It had some dressing on it and she licked it off. Slow. While her eyes never left mine.
Damnit! She knew exactly the effect she was having on me and she was enjoying it. As flirtation went, salad was new, but I was fast becoming a fan.
When her lips wrapped around that tomato and sucked it into her mouth… and she licked the dressing off her fingers…
"Well," she said, making a dusting off motion with her hands. "That's that."
She stood, leaning over the table as she did so that I had a fantastic view of the top of her breasts. Her scent—something fresh and clean, not flowery perfume—washed over me.
Fishing in the tiny purse she carried, she withdrew something and laid it on the table. "Since I'm staying the whole summer, I got a room in that extended stay hotel down the street."
I nodded. I knew the one.
"You know, the one where the rooms have a little kitchen and a tv and a sofa and a really big bed. I don't have any plans tonight and I'd love some company around eight o'clock."
With that she walked out the door. I didn't turn to watch. Hell, watching her sweet ass sashay all the way to the door, I'd probably come in my pants. I looked down at what she'd placed on the table. A keycard. With a small sticky note on it—217. Her room key.
Fuck! I dropped my head back, letting it thunk against the high, wooden back of the booth. I did it three more times for good measure, trying to knock some sense into my brain.
It wasn't helping.
Family is off limits. I repeated it about twenty times.
It wasn't helping.
Mal's sister was hot. She was an inferno. Walking sex. She was such a bad idea. My cock agreed with the first three, which wasn't helping, because it emphatically didn't agree with the last.
I'm insane and I have a death wish. It's the only explanation for why I'm standing in the corridor of the extended stay hotel looking at the door to room 217.
This is such a bad idea.
Family is off limits.
Look, I could just go in an explain to her that I think she's really, totally hot but family is off limits and leave. Yeah, I might turn into one of those little orange guys in that movie about the chocolate factory too.
Turn around, Brown. Don't do it.
Family is off limits.
Walk away.
I knew I should. It was the smart thing to do.
I opened the door.
As first I thought she wasn't there, then I looked in the bedroom and forgot how to breathe. Katja was on the bed, propped up on one elbow, leaning back against a mound of pillows, wearing nothing but a bra and panties—a very small bra and panties. They covered the essentials—barely—but served more to accentuate than conceal. Forget Victoria's Secret angels, this woman left them in the dust.
A wicked smile bloomed on her lips. She twirled her finger to indicate she wanted me to turn around.
I obliged.
When I faced her again, she licked her lips and beckoned me closer with the same finger but when I had closed half the distance to the bed, she held up her hand in the 'stop' gesture.
"Strip for me," she commanded in a husky voice.
Who was I to object? This woman was not only hot, she knew what she wanted, and she wasn't shy about getting it. Every thought I'd had about family being off limits and every qualm I had vanished, burned away in a firestorm of lust.
Chippendales material I may not be, but I did better than just rip off my clothes. She wanted a show and I did my best to give her one. I was already visualizing her returning the favor.
This woman is wicked—in the best possible way. I was lying on my back, Katja straddling my abdomen, me naked, Katja wearing only her panties, when she leaned over and lifted a bag, like the kind you get at the grocery, and set it on the side of the bed. I lifted an eyebrow. My cock was brushing against her ass and I really wanted to get it inside her.
She placed both hands on my chest, leaned down until only inches separated us, her breasts brushing against my chest, and licked her lips. "I like to play. These are some of my favorite toys. Do you like to play, Bobby? Want to play with me?"
She had to ask? Sheesh! As long as there wasn't a strap-on in that bag that she planned to fuck me with, she could do pretty much anything she liked to me. I told her that and she laughed.
"Not my thing. Don't own one, but I do know a couple of women…"
Not going there. "So are you going to show me your toys?"
She took out a set of handcuffs and snapped one around my left wrist. Hotel headboards do not lend themselves to handcuffs but she'd figured out a way to run a chain from a leg of the bed to the center of the headboard and she snapped the other cuff onto it. She held up the key then reached over and put it on the nightstand. If I turned and stretched, I could reach it. I was restrained but not wholly, not immobilized. The chain was long enough I could still touch her, could still reach my cock—barely—but no lower. I was bound only as long as I consented to be. I liked her idea of play.
"What else?" I asked.
She smiled wickedly.
I really liked that smile.
"Nothing right now. Just me." She arched her back, thrusting her breasts forward, cupping them with her hands, fingers playing with her nipples until they stood hard as little bullets. Her nipples were rosy pink, with large aureoles, and they contrasted perfectly with her golden tan. There were no tan lines to distract from the visual feast and I suspected that when I got her panties off, there wouldn't be any tan lines there either.
One hand slid down her body, disappearing into said panties. The other went the other direction. She parted her lips slightly and started licking her forefinger, running her tongue around it, while looking at me.
"Like what you see?"
Did I like? What's not to like? The gods of sex have apparently seen fit to send me a gorgeous, sexy woman, who apparently has no inhibitions. "Yeah, I like. I like a lot."
Her fingers were moving in her panties. I imagined them sliding inside her body, getting slick. Her hips moved against my abs. Small movements. Watching her lick her finger like she would lick a cock, watching her finger her pussy—my cock was ready to explode. I had to touch her. When I reached toward her, intending to lend a hand to the one stroking her pussy, she smacked my hand.
"I have more handcuffs if you can't behave."
Groaning, I laced my hands behind my head to avoid further temptation and enjoyed the show.
She pushed her panties down in front far enough that I could see she was completely shaved and could see her finger disappearing in to the soft, warm, wet depths of her body. She stopped licking her finger and began stroking her clitoris. Her eyes were getting unfocused and little moans fell from her lips.
"God woman, you are killing me," I managed.
Katja offered me one finger, slick and glistening, and I eagerly sucked it into my mouth, savoring the taste of her. It was a taste I intended to become very familiar with.
I had to get those panties off her. Had to get my cock inside her.
"Panties. Off. Now." I growled.
Reaching into her bag of toys, she produced a small pair of scissor which she proceeded to use to cut her panties off—slowly. How in the hell did she make cutting off her own panties look sexy?
I had pulled her to me with my free hand and began stroking her ass when I felt something unexpected. I paused. Moved a finger cautiously, tracing around the hard, flat circle in her ass.
"You're wearing a…?" I wasn't sure how to finish the question. This was beyond my experience.
She laughed, a sexy little laugh. "A butt plug. I've had it in all afternoon, thinking about you. I like the way it feels, and it'll save time later, stretching me out, because I definitely want you to fuck me in the ass."
I just won the sex lottery.
xoxoxox
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