Informed Consent Page 6

  Still suspicious, she lay stiff and tried to calm her heart. His hand found its way up into her hair and stroked.She gritted her teeth. The bastard. The sneaky bastard. If there was a woman alive who could resist having her hair stroked Denise had never met her.

  She would remain vigilant, vigilant like a hawk. This man had spanked her, publicly. He’d shoved things up inside her very private not-made-for-entry zone. He’d made dinner. God knows what he’d get up to next.

  His hand lingered on her brow and he flicked his pinkie lightly across it, then dropped it down further to caress her eyelid.

  Her spine was melting into the mattress. She struggled to remain hawk like.

  A finger traced the curve of her ear.

  Her toes curled.

  He pushed himself up on one elbow. Denise kept her eyes closed because she sure the heck couldn’t meet his eyes.

  Shit. There were his lips. Soft. Gentle. Her brow. Her cheekbones. Christ she’d always been a sucker for kisses on her cheekbones and he KNEW that.

  A finger, she no longer knew which one, traced her lips. He began undoing buttons and paused, taking a break to graze a finger across her breast. Or there, that was the nipple between the thumb and forefinger roll.

  And that was a moan.

  From her.

  Goddammit.

  “Tell me everything, Baby.” He crooned the words in her ear. Swear to god. That was a croon and before this moment she didn’t think she’d even heard the word. How could she think? Her entire body was leaping with joy at the prospect of another orgasm. Or three.

  “Come on, Sweet thing. Confess.”

  She stiffened. This was a terrible trap.

  His mouth hovered, warm, over her nipple.

  She unstiffened. His mouth closed over the distended nub, and she moaned again at the damp warm luxury. He shifted, and his weight settled on her. His erection, hot and long, pressed against her girl parts. His lips moved to her throat and he licked at the pulse and beat of blood at its base.

  She whimpered.

  “Every bad little thing you did today. Let’s hear it.”

  What’s a woman to do? She’d always know she was a terrible hussy.

  “Everything?” She breathed the question into his mouth because it had come back to hers.

  “Ummhmmm.” His tongue tangled hers. “Let’s hear it.”

  She pressed up, wanting that length inside her. Shifting, his hand traveled to her zipper, flicked up the tab and then stopped.

  “I went back to sleep after you woke me up.”

  The zipper gave somewhat.

  “The boys got to school late.”

  The zipper opened completely, his fingers stroked thru her panties and over her mons.

  “How many boys got to school late?”

  She arched up into that hand. “Two.”

  The hand swept back, under her, raising her slightly and the other took hold of her pants.

  Thank god, they were going down.

  “I didn’t give them breakfast.”

  His lips found the hollow at the base of her throat again.

  “I got stopped by the cops.”

  That must have startled him because he froze.

  “You drove?”

  His hands were easing the jeans down now. His voice sounded only interested but Denise didn’t quite trust that.

  “Ummm.” She let her hand find his erection.

  Damn! The man flipped her effortlessly, and now she was in a vulnerable position on her belly. Crap.

  His hand stroked her ass and shamefully, she raised it to meet him. Traitorous body parts were the worst.

  “Without a license.” It was a statement; he knew the answer.

  He lowered his hips onto her butt and pressed, found the back of her neck with his mouth.

  She bucked up to him again.

  “What other sins, my bad wee girl?”

  “Crap, Andrew.”

  “Yes, my sweet thing?”

  “I want you.” Damn. Now she was begging.

  “I don’t think you’re done.” He pressed his cock against her butt once and then moved to the side.

  She moaned.

  “I didn’t want you to know William missed school.”

  His hand came down on her butt. Not too hard. But still.

  “Lies of omission.” Another crack, harder, and another lick at the base of her spine, then a sharp nip.

  Several more cracks.

  She cried out.

  “Tonight was a zoo, Baby.”

  Now the bastard stuck his tongue in her ear. She reared up to press her hot butt against his cock.

  Andrew caught her under the stomach and held her with one arm while the other hand stripped her panties down, leaving them tangled about her knees. His hand swept down again.

  She moaned again, this time pressing herself into his palm.

  “We need to be a team.”

  “Umm.” She trembled. He slipped his fingers into her. She was wet, dripping.

  Andrew groaned, sounding damn pleased with himself. She tried to flip back, thinking she’d pull him down, kiss him hard, make him forget.

  Instead he pulled back, and grabbed at the panties, cursed.

  That. Was a rip.

  He moved off the bed. She moaned in protest because she was not ready to lose him and then found herself yanked unceremoniously over his knee.

  “Nooo!” She started to cry immediately. Not because it hurt but because she had wanted it so much.

  “Hush.” His hand stroked. Rubbed. Kneaded. Dipped into her sweetness. Played there.

  Vaguely, far away, she heard something. He was moving, to touch her, to play in her, yes, but something more.

  Cold leather lay down very gently on her warm ass.

  “Meet my belt, Denise.”

  He bent over her, whispered in her ear while his other hand continued to play.

  Quite without voluntary intent she rose up, moaning. He laid an arm across her back, holding her at her hip, pressing her to his side. His cock twitched under her. She moaned. The cool leather disappeared.

  “Tell me you’re sorry, baby.”

  “I’m sorry!” her voice sounded ragged to her own ears, desperate, pleading. It was awful to be such a horrible slut.

  The belt landed. It stung, but she knew it could have been much worse.

  There. That one was much worse.

  Another, and she tried desperately to get away but he held her firm. His mouth was back at her ear.

  “We need to be a team, baby. Your brothers need that. You need that. And sweet thing, I need it. Do you feel this?”

  His fingers dipped into her again and brought the wet to her butt, rubbing her own honey into her skin. “This is good, Denise. We’re good. Don’t fight it so much. I know you need time. I’ll give you time.”

  The belt cracked down hard, once, twice and after that she didn’t feel it anymore, except far away, somewhere, she knew it was there and then he was moving again and she was face down over the edge of the bed and he was grabbing her hips, pulling her up to him and swearing, and there! He thrust deep in her pussy and said wonderful, horrible, crude things in her ear. He wrapped an arm across her chest, bracing her against his own thrusting weight, sending his other hand to bring lovely long talented fingers to bear on other matters.

  The world exploded.

  Later, she was vaguely aware of being sticky, warm, and curled into a ball surrounded by his big hard warm body and he had a hand wrapped possessively around her breast.

  Chapter 9

  In the kitchen the following morning Denise sat in her chair, numb, hands clutching a mug of coffee. Andrew spoke calmly, and she imagined what he was going on about must be important or he wouldn’t have woken her up to talk about it, would he? Regardless, she hadn’t a clue what he was saying. She took a long sip of coffee.

  He’d woken her up, one hand on her shoulder, gently shaking. “Have breakfast with me. We need to talk.”


  “I don’t eat breakfast.”

  “Drink some coffee then.”

  Remembering last night, what he had done to her, she flushed, involuntarily squeezing her thighs together tightly. Surely by this time yesterday the man had already left the house? So why was he still here today? It was a good thing he’d dragged her butt out of bed or she’d have screwed up the school day for the boys. Her mind was coming on line now, and she wanted him out the door so he didn’t witness how hard it was to get her brothers out of bed.

  Andrew slid a notebook towards her, following it with a pen. “Do you want to stay here? Indefinitely?”

  She straightened abruptly in her chair. “What do you mean?”

  “If we’re going to live here, this place needs a lot of repair work.”

  Denise opened her mouth to object because she hated being told what to do. She also intended to fire a million questions because she could criticize her home but he couldn’t.

  Andrew shot a warning gaze in her direction and lifted a ‘do not interrupt me finger”.

  The temperature of her blood began to creep up. She shut her mouth because she was sick of constantly bickering. A second later she opened it again to drink more coffee.

  “No big deal,” her husband was saying, “but no need to bother if you want to live somewhere else.”

  “This is my brothers’ home!”

  The husband didn’t even blink. Actually, he nodded. He also stood up. “So, start by calling Jim Breshares, Tom McMasters, and Hank Nestor. They’re all good general contractors. See which one you feel most comfortable with.” He stood up and started rifling his bag. “They’ll go through the place and tell you what needs to be done structurally, and they’ll listen to what you want the place to look like.” Andrew shoved his chair back to the table. He tossed several business cards towards her. “Let’s talk at that point. It’s your call, but keep me appraised.”

  William walked into the room and Denise’s heart stuttered and apparently stopped, waiting for something bad to happen.

  “Yo.” William bumped fists with Andrew. His hair stood straight up from his head and veered sharply left. His eyes were slitty slices in his face. But he was up.

  She looked at Andrew. His face gave nothing away. Noise on the stairs told her the other two were on their way. The man must have woken them up. There was no way in hell they’d be up otherwise.

  Obviously, his wake up techniques hit a notch above her own on the effectiveness scale.

  She whipped her head around to stare at the clock. Was there time to take them to breakfast? Could she pay the driver extra to pass by a drive thru? She bet she could, but wasn’t sure it was the best thing to do on the first day.

  Andrew raised a brow and moved rapidly across the kitchen. He put a hand out to catch Zander’s as the kid poured coffee into a mug. Denise blushed. Yep! In this house, no one had ever paid attention to what little kids ate or drank.

  “No coffee, short stack.” Andrew ruffled the boy’s hair. “You guys get it together fast and I’ll swing by the bakery on the way to school.”

  “You mean you’re driving us?” Lucas looked suspicious. William watched Andrew closely.

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  All of the boys looked at Denise.

  Andrew looked too, his hands still working the clasp of his satchel. “I’m happy to, Denise.”

  “I wasn’t going to drive them. I have a car coming.”

  “I’d like to, Denise. It’s not a big deal. It will give us some time together.”

  “It’s not your problem.” She heard the defensiveness in her voice and would have done anything to keep it out, but she couldn’t. They were her brothers, her responsibility, and he was right about at least one thing.She needed to step up and raise them better than her parents had. She would do it. She didn’t need him snatching the job out of her hands, all Mr. Head of House, or whatever the heck he called himself.

  Andrew strolled across the room to her and bent down to give her a kiss. “I’m not criticizing, Denise. Or trying to take anything away from you. We’re a team, remember?”

  He brushed her forehead with his lips, one hand squeezed her shoulder.

  She jerked away from the hand and the lips. But not before she felt the surge of heat and moisture.

  He ignored her reaction except to calmly put his hand back on her shoulder, exerting the slightest pressure to keep her anchored. “Let’s go, men.”

  He stopped again at the door.

  “Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

  Her head shot up.

  “I think we should plan to eat together as a family more often than not. Do you?”

  She kept her eyes on him warily. God knows what he was up to now.

  Andrew shrugged. “Think about it, would you?”

  He turned back to the door, keys jangling.

  “I can make something.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Dinner. I’ll make something.”

  She looked down, frowning at the pad he’d shoved in her direction with the contractor’s names. “Around seven?”

  He flashed her the grin that had caught her attention all those months ago -- before anything else, well, maybe the chestnut hair had come first -- and he whistled as he went out the door.

  ***

  She wanted to kick herself. She was pathetic. Easy. Flash her a smile, give her a good -- make that a great orgasm, make that three -- and she was bowing and scraping like a lunatic. What had she done? Offered to cook Dinner?

  How the hell would she pull that off?Stepping into the shower she gave herself a lecture. She did have a brain. She could look up a recipe on the internet, figure out what to buy, and cook it. Surely she could do that.

  Sitting on the bed, wrapped in a robe, Denise powered up her laptop. She browsed one sight after another. Everything sounded good, or nothing sounded good. If the recipe sounded good it also seemed very complicated. Terms like “fold into” and “caramelize” and “remoulade” and “bouqet garni” and “chapelux” made her head spin.

  Probably it would make sense to think of a dish she liked to eat, that sounded easy, and then look up a specific recipe. Otherwise she might well be sitting here when dinner time rolled around. There were those contractors to call too. The man was sure to check up on her. She HATED obeying him. Absolutely hated it.

  It didn’t matter that it sounded like a good idea, something she would have liked to have thought of herself as she wandered around getting depressed at the fact the house was crumbling around their ears. Because he told her to do it she didn’t want to.

  Stealth mode. She needed to go along as much as possible. Look at the debacle that had fallen around her ears last night without even trying. Her butt still kind of stung.

  Hiking up the robe she moved across the room and back into the bath, presenting her backside to the mirror and craning her neck to see.

  No marks.

  Why did she feel disappointed? Oh shit, why was she suddenly wet and longing AGAIN.

  She stomped downstairs, her laptop under her arm. The pad of paper and business cards lay where she’d left them. Curling a leg underneath her butt she reached for the phone with one hand while powering up the laptop again with the other.

  Sometime later Denise realized that multitasking has some drawbacks. Off to one side lay a pad of paper with random notes that might make more sense when she gave it her full attention but at the moment made none whatsoever. Meanwhile the laptop sitting directly in front of her listed pages and pages of domestic discipline sites.

  Her eyes flicked to the browser. She’d Googled ‘spanking in marriages’ not Sloppy Joes.

  “Mrs. Cross?”

  “Sorry! I’m trying to do two things at once and that’s always a mistake. Could you repeat that?”

  “I’d like to make the appointment to walk through your place for Friday, if that would work for you? You don’t have to be there. It’s actually bet
ter if you’re not.”

  “It is? Don’t I have to tell you what I want?”

  The guy on the other end of the connection chuckled. A quick glance at her pad showed her the name Breshares underlined and circled.

  It was a friendly chuckle, her inner compass noted. No need to get all Gloria Steinman. “Before you tell me what you want, Mrs. Cross, I need to crawl all over the place and figure out what we have to work with.”

  Inadvertently, her eyes rested on a site: ‘Spanking me Sweetly’. That made her want to hurl. She clicked on it anyhow.

  “Assess the bones, in other words.”

  Jim Breshares wanted to assess her bones?

  “Is the foundation strong? What about wiring, plumbing? Things like that. Honestly, Mrs. Cross,

  I’ll do better at that if you leave me too it.”

  “Friday is fine, Mr. Breshares. What time?”

  “I’d like to make it early, ma’am. As in eight o’clock? I try to do my estimates first thing so I’m with my crews no later than 10 in the morning. Will that work Mrs. Cross?”

  “Eight is fine.” If today and yesterday were examples her husband intended to make sure she was up and at ‘em bright and early. That pissed her off so she added, “Oh, and Mr. Breshares? It’s Ms. Marrow. Not Mrs. Cross.”

  Damn that felt good. Feeling magnanimous now she added, “But please call me Denise.”

  “All right, Ms. Marrow. Sorry about that. I must have gotten confused. Andrew Cross-”

  “I am married to Mr. Cross.” Denise knew she sounded like the Queen of England with her panties in a knot but she didn’t care. “But my name is Marrow.”

  “Gotcha! Modern woman, eh?”

  “Is that a problem?” Christ she sounded like a nutcase. This was what one idiotic domineering man could do to her; she was leaping on perfectly reasonable men assuming they were all oinking chauvinist pigs.

  ***

  Zander sat in Spelling and wished his mother was alive.

  His mother had been a flake, Lucas said. William wasn’t so polite. He called her a bi polar freak.

  Which Zander didn’t understand. He didn’t necessarily grasp everything there was to know about the poles, North and South, but he didn’t see how any woman could be on both at the same time. Not to mention his mother had been in the house when William called her that.