Chapter Thirteen
For the rest of the workday, Grace had all of the spry awareness of a de-boned chicken. She sat at her desk in a blurred daze. Her spoke only when spoken to, and even then it was confused and monosyllabic. She slouched horribly, her tormented body too exhausted to sit upright. Her five orgasms had made her terribly sleepy. Her denied sexual desires made her noticeably pissy.
Wayne had worked some magical curse that left her sated and nowhere near satisfied. Five orgasms and still dying for sex? How had he conjured such a ridiculous feeling inside her? In the basement, after he teased her final climax from her, he'd stood up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and leaned down to kiss her.
"Yummy," he'd murmured against her lips.
He'd turned and left her, closing the door behind him and leaving her a naked, glistening, moaning, trembling mess atop a research table. Her clit and outer folds were beyond overstimulated. Just when she'd thought she couldn't come for him anymore, he'd whispered some filthy adoration or slip a single finger into the shallow depths of her pussy and she unspooled yet again.
But no sex. She hadn't gotten what she wanted. He was still playing this cruel and unfair prank on her where she was mauled by his deliciously fuckable body, but not actually fucked. She'd tried. Oh God, how she had tried. But she'd been overpowered. Overrun. Conquered. She couldn't imagine what crime against humanity she'd committed to incur such mouth-watering punishment.
Thanks to her stupor, time moved rather quickly. By the time it was okay to go home for the day, she'd managed a half-baked plan. If she couldn't overpower him, she'd have to outmaneuver him. She didn't know how, but dammit, the situation had gone Code Red. If he wasn't going to give her what she needed, she'd have to figure out a way to take it. Fuck his little game. He'd had his fun, now he needed to take care of business before hers became a medical problem. Surely he wouldn't want explain to the ER doctors that she was unconscious in the waiting room because he'd refused to resusitate her by screwing her senseless.
She was pretty sure that was an arrestable offense. Reckless endangerment, or something.
So she'd simply take matters into her own hands. Tonight. Now. She got her things and headed for the elevator. He would follow shortly. He'd damn well better.
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Later that night, Rigsby was surprised. As they snuggled deep into her overstuffed sofa, watching The Great Escape and melting into each other's warmth, Grace continued to make absolutely no mention of that afternoon. She'd made chicken and cous cous for dinner, all ready to eat by the time he'd walked through the door. She'd smiled at him peacefully, looking so content and calm that he assumed that he'd thoroughly worn her out at lunch.
He was pleased and disappointed at that. It always made his heart swell knowing that he did it for her, but at the same time, his experiment would stall if she had no immediate desire for him. But as she walked up to him as he tossed his keys on the table, her arms went around him and she purred softly as she nuzzled him in the chest.
"Hey, you," she murmured happily.
He hugged her back and buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair. "Hey back."
They stood in the entryway for several minutes, not talking, just holding each other and sighing softly. Rigsby was infused with sublime happiness. He could easily come home every day for the next fifty years to this kind of welcome. A warm house, the smell of dinner, and a soft hug from the woman he loved. No dream had ever felt so alluring and attainable at the same time. Fighting crime and making love with Grace for the rest of his life. Never had the two major drives in his life, catching bad guys and wanting love, been fulfilled simultaneously. Once again he was filled with the most overwhelming sense of peace.
Standing still with her. Standing quietly. He rubbed his cheek into her red locks and a growl escaped him. The sound he always made when he was happy. Grace smiled against his shirt. Her big, scary teddy bear.
"You hungry?" she asked, finally looking up at him.
He smiled indulgently. "Are you new here?"
She grinned sheepishly. "You're right. Stupid question. C'mon, grub's all ready." She didn't mention that he'd had a light lunch. She didn't mention lunch at all.
Now, sitting on the sofa and scoffing as Steve McQueen led the Nazis on a scenic goose chase, Rigsby wondered idly just how long they were going skirt the topic. He decided to find out and cleared his throat softly. Like Steve, he chose the scenic route.
"It's getting late," he said, kissing her temple.
"Hmmmm," she replied noncommittally.
"Feeling tired?"
She blinked as Steve crested a hill on his motorcycle. "A bit."
Getting a little lost in her scent, he nuzzled gently along her hairline. "Wanna go to bed?"
A smile cracked and disappeared. He never saw it. " 'spose so. Guess McQueen will have to ride another day," she yawned as she flipped off the tv, stretching out, relaxed as could be.
He carried her to bed, a common occurrence that Grace initially had to get used to when they first got together. No boyfriend before had ever carried her anywhere, never mind all the time and to her bedroom. She snuggled into his shoulder, exhaling heavily. Sooooo sleepy, her supple limbs told him.
He eased her into bed. "You want my t-shirt?"
She often wore his shirts to bed. Yawning again and fluttering her eyes, she shook her head. "I'm too warm. I'll just sleep in my underwear." Sounding as innocent as can be and not watching his reaction to her words, she started tugging artlessly at her clothes, shedding her skirt, blouse and bra and slipping between the sheet while he watched. She curled on her side and sighed heavily.
"You coming?" she murmured.
He stood frozen, watching her naked body slide into their bed.
She wasn't looking at him. Thank Christ, he thought to himself. He'd done pretty well the whole evening. For a man on the sexual brink ready to explode any second, he'd been extremely proud of himself. He'd held Grace all night. He cuddled with her for hours. He kissed and rubbed and hugged her and not once did his erection make an appearance. Fuck knows why. Two days of no sex with Grace was bad enough, but two days of no sex with Grace while pleasuring her had pushed him into a very unstable frame of mind. He'd hid it from her well. As far as she'd seen, he was perfectly happy with this new arrangement. But underneath he was a roiling mess, so pent up with raging sexual desire that he wasn't sure he'd make it another day.
His plan didn't have a set schedule. It's not like there were any sophisticated phases involved here. He'd just wanted to see what would happen if he held out on her. Nothing more. And she'd responded beautifully. She'd attacked him like the leopard he was turning her into. Spotted and wild. But now she was acting tame as a lamb.
A naked, super hot lamb.
Christ.
"Yeah," he answered finally, and began shrugging out of his clothes. Her nude indifference was having an effect on his boxers. They appeared to be shrinking, growing tighter and tighter as he watched her curled form.
I guess I really wore her out. Finally. Maybe now it's time to retire the experiment. Let her go back to controlling wherever she wanted to take our sexual relationship. Hey, it was fun. I enjoyed having control for awhile. Nice to know that she isn't as cool and controlled as she appears. He smirked. Good to know I can get to her.
But now she was truly tired. He mentally rebuked his straining cock as he kicked off his underwear and settled between the sheets next to her. He had really worked her hard that afternoon, and unlike her blowjob on their stakeout, she hadn't been able to take a nap like he had. He leaned over her shoulder and kissed her cheek chastely.
"Night, baby. Love you."
She hummed softly and murmured. "G'night. Love you more."
He rolled on his back, sighing happily and quickly drifting off to sleep.
What came in the next few hours made him disown any thoughts he might have had towards ending his little research project.
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Grace waited for a long time. She had to be sure. As she lay curled on her side, feigning sleep, she listened to his breathing for almost ninety minutes. It was slow and deep. Its steadiness told her that he was out like a light, in deep, deep sleep. Just like she'd hoped.
She'd slept on her side for a reason. She absolutely could not risk falling asleep in his arms, as was their normal nightly ritual. She had to keep herself free from his limbs, which always wrapped like ivy around her. She'd hoped her little performance and fooled him. She wanted him thinking her sated, exhausted body was too tired to realize that it wasn't in his embrace. She was just so sleepy. She smiled smugly. Ha! Sleepy like a caffine-addled sexaholic who needed a fix of her favorite drug so badly that she couldn't even blink. But it looked like he bought the all-tuckered-out act. He'd let her sleep next to him without cuddling up to her.
His internal heat and motion sensors wouldn't go off now.
As slowly and quietly as she could, she slipped out of bed, walking carefully to her chest of drawers on the other side of the room. Lifting her hand slowly in the darkness, she traced her fingers along the surface until they came into contact with a small leather case.
Bingo.
Smothering the case in her hands, she pulled the Velcro open one annoyingly loud rip at a time. In the thick silence of the room, it sounded deafening. After a few seconds, it was open and the familiar clink of metal met her touch.
She grinned like a deprived heroine addict who just found a brick of brown. So close now.
She pulled out her cuffs and gently set the case down. She crept back to her bed, sizing up her lover's sleeping position to best gauge how to do this.
This had been the only solution she could think of on the drive home. She couldn't overpower him physically. That much was certain. So then how? Everything she needed from him right now was physical. If he wasn't game, then she was outta luck. So she began to work through the possibilities. She'd thought hard, making a list as she always did with problems.
1. I can't subdue him.
2. He stops me from touching him.
3. I need sex.
4. He wants sex.
5. His body will respond sexually, even if he doesn't want it to.
It led to the obvious conclusion. She didn't have to subdue him. She only had to restrain him. With his hands secured, he'd be helpless against what she planned to do to make him hard. Once that happened, she'd ride him into oblivion and back. His objections be damned. Yeah, that sounded a lot like rape, but hey. Sue her. If he hadn't been such a dirty tease in the first place, she would never have been pushed into this kind of desperation. He had it coming. Plain and simple.
She slipped into bed again and snuggled into his arms, sighing softly as if she'd turned into him naturally. He grunted in his sleep, reaching for her with both hands. She caught them deftly, holding them very gently until she felt him relax in her hands and settle back again.
Slow. Eeeeeasy.
She lifted them up towards the bars of her headboard. Slooooowly, she thought as she held her breath and inched them higher and higher.
Once she got them there, she'd have to move fast. The click of the cuffs on his wrists would no doubt awaken him, and she had to do it twice while snaking the chain through the bars, so after these last three inches—
He struck like lightning.
She only saw a blur before her hands were grabbed, her body was flipped to her back, and her wrists were restrained, cuffed and trapped between two bars.
She shrieked in fury as Wayne, wide-awake and grinning, loomed over her.
"Nooooooo!" She yanked her hands uselessly against the cuffs. "Nonononono!"
His laugh boomed over her shrieking voice. "Really? You thought dinner and a movie would fool me, sweetheart?"
"Goddamn you," she cried in frustration, cursing and spitting like a trapped tomcat. She arched frantically underneath him, pulling with no effect against the hold of her headboard while pushing into him, skin to skin, throbbing so hotly that she thought she was going to explode.
Her bare breasts were aching so badly that even the lightest contact against his chest sent bolts of pleasure straight to her core. In her desperation, she tried wrapping her legs around his, but he only bracketed his thighs across hers. Keeping her in place. She squirmed hopelessly under his impossible weight and whimpered softly.
"Wayne, please. I want to make love with you. It's been two days and I need you. All of you. Please, baby. Pleasepleasepleaseplease," she cooed mindlessly, bowing up as much as her trapped arms and legs would allow. The throb was just insufferable. She couldn't take it anymore. If he refused her now, she couldn't be held responsible for her actions.
She bucked up again and gasped sharply. His naked erection was so big and hard that it caught in between their bodies as she moved, making him moan as she rotated against him.
"See?" she whispered. "You need it too. You haven't come for me in two whole days, baby. Let me take care of you. I'll make you feel so good, you'll never want me to stop."
Rigsby hissed and shoved her harder into the mattress, stilling her movements somewhat. "No," he hissed raggedly, his face a tight mask of concentration.
Her entire body shuddered with rage at being refused. "Why?" she keened breathlessly, still squirming despite his tight grip.
A smile chipped at the corners of his tight lips. "Because you tried to take it. Didn't your mama teach you to always ask first?"
She groaned at his ridiculous answer, yanking again at her own cuffs.
He levered up so that he could bring both hands to her breasts, massaging them softly. She gasped with joy and moaned for him, pushing her aching body into his palms.
"Beautiful Grace," he crooned as he worked her. "If only you'd asked. I might have given you everything you wanted."
Still working her gently, he leaned down until his lips pressed softly just up and left of her bellybutton.
"Such a pretty kitty," he praised roughly.
He bit down.
Grace, scraped raw with need, screamed like a banshee as one of her few ticklish spots was attacked and nibbled. She couldn't protect it. Her hands were held tightly in her cuffs. She seethed with unbearable pleasure as her breasts found relief while her tummy was tortured. She was practically crying by the time he pulled back.
Another red oval soon to turn purple. His little leopard now had her fourth spot.
"If only you'd asked," he repeated as he continued to caress her. "But now you've gotten me all worked up. If you'd asked me, I would have relieved it with you." He sighed sadly and pulled up until he was standing on his knees above her, her thighs still trapped between his legs. Grace hadn't known that he'd gotten into bed naked, but the fact was now proudly on display, his smooth, pulsing shaft standing at attention above her.
She shuddered and bucked again at the sight, her eyes rolling back. "Oh, my God," she groaned softly.
Rigsby gazed down her prone body, naked except for a sexy pair of black bikini underwear. It would be so easy to just…
"No," he hissed out loud. "Bad, bad girl," he berated her from on high. His eyes caught hers and she knew that she was in serious trouble. Slowly, so very slowly, he pulled her panties aside and cupped her tightly.
"Yes!" she cried as she felt his fingers working themselves between her closed legs, into her heat and her copious wetness. "Yes, baby. God, please more."
He stroked her softly until his hand was completely covered in her slippery desire. Then, to her horror, he took his hand away and brought it to his cock.
"Wha…what are you doing?" she was terrified that she already knew.
He tightened his thighs around hers. She moaned as he wrapped his hand around his gorgeously thick cock and coated himself with her.
He grinned his wicked grin. "I'm gonna jerk off onto your stomach while you watch."
"Nooooo," her wail was so heartbroken as she fell back limp onto the bed that Wayne almost felt sorry for her. He tightened his slick grip on himself and moaned over her cry. He began to pump slowly, watching her face as it crumpled with disappointment and impotent desire.
His own hand was nothing next to how she felt, especially now that she was so hungry for him, but the power of the situation made him growl with smug authority. She was trapped and helpless and he was torturing his prey. The sadist in him was ecstatic. Working himself with hard strokes, he taunted her.
"It's too bad, baby. My hand doesn't feel nearly as good as you. Christ, you're the sweetest, tightest little thing I've ever known."
Her eyes were slitted against her fury. She bucked up against his inner thighs and swore loudly. Her cuffs clicked loudly against the metal posts holding her arms above her head.
A slave.
His cock twitched in his hand and he sped up, groaning at the sight of her fired up, horny and helpless against him. Her smooth belly contracted as her muscles worked in a futile effort to wrangle him inside of her. His head tipped back and he howled.
"Fuck, I need you!" he roared at the ceiling. "You're so fucking hot that you burn me alive. Your pussy loves me, doesn't it, Grace? It pulls me in and hugs me so hard that I know I've come home. Say it, baby. Tell me I'm home."
Her fury was really just denied lust. Red, molten lust. Watching her beautiful boyfriend as he gave himself a handjob and loudly exalted her body would have knocked her senseless if she hadn't been so horny. Maybe it did anyway. She answered him.
"Yes, baby," she whispered up to him, lifting her head above her arms, trying fruitlessly to get closer. "You're home. My body loves you, even when I want to kill you." Her voice raised sharply at the end. The sight of his juicy dick glistening her wetness was going to end her.
"Get inside me, Wayne. Now. I mean it."
He gasped. Her low, dangerous command making him seize up, his eyes widening with shock and lust. "Sorry, baby," was all she got before he arched violently towards her, his come shooting in a boiling hot geyser across her stomach and breasts. So, so much of it. The spray of white hit her perfect tits and they both screamed, Wayne with agonizing release and Grace with livid frustration. He pumped his hand several more times, his tip still oozing profusely.
His head fell forward, his body shivering with release. When his hand dropped away, he finally pulled up a bit to look at her. "Look at you," he rasped in awe.
Still spread out for him like stunning sacrifice, Grace looked almost ethereal in beauty and loving fury. He grunted with a haughty smirk, dripping with possession. His finger dipped into the jizz on her breasts, making little patterns over the love bite he put there the night before. "Look at you," he repeated softly, "cuffed and bitten and covered in my juice."
He knew it wasn't gentlemanly, but he couldn't help it. The sight of her so thoroughly captured and taken by him was just primal. He was wilted down to his most primitive instincts. Take what's his. Mark what's his. Protect, impregnate and love what's his. She was all of these things. He purred at the knowledge.
He lifted off her and reached for the bedside table, pulling three tissues from the box and gently cleaning her with them. She whimpered the whole time, angry and needy and wanting him so very badly.
"You cheated me," she pouted sadly. That's how she felt. Cheated. He'd gone and had sex without her. She was discovering all sorts of new emotions because of it. None of them felt particularly good.
He smiled softly, dabbing the moisture from her skin. "You were going to cuff me to your bed and ravish me, Grace. You really gonna take the injured party line, here?"
He slipped into bed beside her and pulled the sheets over them. She huffed at his answer. "Ravish? Please. You're just holding out on me to be mean. I was only doing what I had to to make us both happy." The petulance in her tone made him chuckle softly.
"So you're the only one who gets to experiment with our sex life?" He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest, spooning seamlessly against her as they lay on their sides. Her arms, only slightly above her head now, slid into Ls against each other in front of her face. Not uncomfortable, but definitely irritating.
She yanked on her cuffs pointedly. "Ahem. Key?"
He astonished her by leaning into her ear and whispering oh-so-quietly.
"No."