by Roni Loren
Heaviness landed in the pit of his stomach. Hero. That was the last thing he was. “Cela . . .”
She bit her lip, her expression anxiously expectant. “Remember, smile. You can make me pay later.”
He ran a hand over the back of his head, fighting the urge to stride right back out. But before he could say anything else, his assistant, Lindy, hurried over to him like a whirlwind of fluttering hands and smiles. She threw her arms around him. “I’m so glad you came!”
On autopilot, he hugged her back. “You knew about this?”
She stepped back, smiling sheepishly. “Maybe? The staff has wanted to put together an event for a while. A lot of the families want to thank you. So when Cela called me to see if we could put something together quickly, I sort of made everyone work overtime to make it happen.”
He peeked over Lindy’s shoulder toward Cela. Everything in her stance belied her nerves. She’d gone through all of this trouble, and now she was afraid he was going to bail. He sighed, frustrated that this was happening but unable to let Cela or his staff down by being an asshole about it.
He forced himself to smile, the motion straining his face. “Thanks, Lindy. Y’all really shouldn’t have gone through the trouble.”
She crossed her arms and eyed him. “Yes, we should’ve. You built this company, and you need to accept the impact it’s had. Now, go sit, eat and drink. The presentation is about to start.”
“Presentation?” But Cela and Pike were already ushering him to a table without answering his question.
He felt like a piece being moved on a chessboard, everything out of his control. The whole experience was unnerving. But what else could he do at this point? Cela had thrown him into the deep end without an escape route. He ordered a stiff drink before his ass even hit the chair.
And he would need that liquid fortification, because a few minutes later, the lights went down and a video screen lowered on the back wall behind the stage. Music filled the cavernous ballroom, and Cela reached out and grabbed his hand. Familiar faces began to light the screen in time with the wordless music. One by one, every person who had ever been found because of one of their products appeared on the screen. Happy, smiling faces of two little boys running through the park, a little girl with a tiara on, the wizened smile of an elderly man who’d been found after wandering off, footage of news stories showing families reuniting when they found their loved ones.
Words appeared on the screen between the photos.
Every day . . . over two thousand children go missing.
Every day . . . families grieve for loved ones they’ll never see again.
Foster’s throat felt like it was stuffed with fiberfill, his chest going tight.
Every day . . . hope is lost.
But not for Mackenzie Osbourne in Cedar Rapids, IA.
Not for Jayden Kennedale in Biloxi, MS.
Not for MaryLou Wallace in Waco, TX.
Because people like Ian Foster and the staff of 4N refuse to accept that there’s nothing we can do.
A video of the Kennedales came on, Jayden in the middle with a toothless grin. Jayden’s mother began to speak. “The day Jayden wandered off in the mall was the most terrifying day of my life. In a flash of seconds, I saw my whole world collapsing in on itself. I’d taken my eye off of him for one moment, and he was gone. My baby was gone and it was my fault.” She swiped at tears through a wavering smile. “I’m not sure what made me buy that Home Safe wristband a month before. I live in a quiet town, low crime. It seemed kind of silly and paranoid to have such a thing. But Neve Foster’s story affected me, and I bought one. If Jayden hadn’t been wearing his that day, I know we would’ve never seen him again. I will never be able to repay Ian Foster and 4N for what they’ve given me. You saved us all.”
Foster’s lungs constricted as another family came on giving more heartfelt testimony. He looked to Cela, who was swiping at tears. She turned his way and offered him a tentative smile as if to say, See how amazing you are. This matters. You did this.
The meaning behind that look hit him right in the sternum. It was like warm rays of sun shining on his face. For the first time ever, he felt it—truly felt it—by seeing himself though her eyes. He’d made a difference. Maybe not for his own family. He could never make things better for Neve. And nothing would ever bring her back. But he could honor her with this. Every person who came home safe with a 4N product was because of her, a tribute.
As he listened to story after story, and as families came up to him to thank him after the video presentation was over, everything that had been wound so tight for so long seemed to loosen and unknot inside him. This mattered.
And Cela had shown him that. She’d done this for him. Everyone else had let him get by with his bitterness and hardened front, but she hadn’t accepted the bullshit. She’d pushed and pushed and stood up to him, had even taken the brunt of his wrath the night she’d refused to leave him alone to wallow. She’d bled for him.
The woman was more than he could have ever dreamed of or asked for. She was perfect. And she was his.
He exchanged hugs and good-byes with the last of the families who had stopped by to thank him, and then scanned the room for Cela. She’d stepped away when people had started to come over to talk with him, but he didn’t want her anywhere but at his side. He caught sight of her across the room with Bailey, both of them chatting with Lindy. Cela’s dark hair gleamed beneath the soft lighting in the room, and as promised, the short black dress she wore revealed just enough to drive him mad. If he hadn’t known her, his eyes would have been drawn her way regardless. Without letting her see him, he slipped out the door to take care of something.
When he came back, she hadn’t moved from her perch, but had added a glass of champagne to the mix. As if feeling his eyes on her, she glanced his way and sent him a still mad at me? quirk of her eyebrows. Inwardly, he grinned, but he kept his expression stern as he made his way over to her. When he reached the group, he grabbed her elbow and drew her next to him. “Excuse us, ladies, Cela and I have a lot to discuss.”
Lindy put a hand on his arm. “You’re not mad, are you?”
He sent her a quelling look. “Not at you.”
Cela gave Bailey a ruh-roh expression as she handed over her champagne glass to her friend, but he winked at the girl over Cela’s shoulder. Bailey bit back a smile. She gave Cela a little wave. “I’m going grab more of those puff pastry thingies.”
“Good idea,” Foster said, tugging Cela away.
She glanced back at her friend. “Is it just me or did she just throw me to the wolves?”
“Wolf,” he corrected.
Cela eyed him, as if still trying to figure out if he was truly mad or screwing with her. “Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer as he guided her out of the party room and toward the bank of elevators. As if they’d been waiting for Foster and Cela’s arrival, the gold gleaming doors spread wide. Foster dragged her inside.
As soon as the doors slid shut, he crowded her against the wall, banding an arm around her waist. She let out a little squeak of surprise, and he pressed his forehead to hers, holding her eye contact. “Last time we were in this elevator, I was so desperate for you, I went against my better judgment. I could tell you were holding something back, and I took you to that room anyway.”
“Regret it?”
He lifted his head and smiled down at her. “It was the best fuckup I’ve ever made.”
She stared up at him with those big, brown eyes, her lips curving.
He cupped the back of her neck. “And all this time I’ve made you conform to me. What I want, what I thought I needed, what I prefer. I insisted you fit into this one box of ideal I’d made up.”
“Foster.”
“And I know we haven’t talked about it since everything
happened, and I know you’ve got a lot on your plate back home. But I’m telling you right now. I will do whatever it fucking takes, Cela. Vanilla. Kinky. Neapolitan. Staying here or moving south. I don’t care anymore. All I want is you. And whatever way I get to have that, I’m willing to do.”
Her fingers curled around the lapels of his suit jacket, and her eyes went shiny.
“Just tell me what you want, and I will make it happen.”
The elevator doors dinged, opening to the top floor again. But unlike all those months ago, there was no doubt behind her smile, no fear. She pushed up on her toes and kissed him softly. When she pulled away, what he saw there nearly brought him to his knees.
“I want you to take care of me,” she said, her gaze steady on his and her hand pressed over his pounding heart. “As long as I get to take care of you back. Sir.”
Joy streamed through every cell in his body, lighting him from the inside out. Foster lifted her off her feet and carried her toward the hotel room. Last time they were here, she’d given him her virginity.
Tonight, he’d give her his heart.
EPILOGUE
CHRISTMAS EVE
The riding crop hit Cela’s sweat-glazed skin with a satisfying thwack, a nice hard hit at the end of a quick round of lighter blows. Cela’s head tipped back on a moan, the chains holding her arms above her clinking. Beautiful. Foster lowered the crop to his side and stepped back, relishing the sight of that thick dark hair sliding back over her shoulders and dancing along the marks he’d made, his marks.
His angel was flying high. He could see it in the sway of her body, the slack in her muscles. Desire burned hot in his veins, urging him to take her, but he channeled his patience. He wanted to savor her, especially considering the risky Christmas gift he had planned. If tonight didn’t go the way he hoped, he may not have this privilege again—a thought he couldn’t even bear to let fully form in his head right now.
The glow of the fireplace flickered in front of her, sending shafts of orange light dancing along the walls, changing a room that had once held so much coldness for him to one full of warmth and beauty . . . love. He ran his palm along Cela’s back in a gentle caress, feeling the heat of her skin, the raised welts. She shivered beneath his hand and leaned into his touch. Everything in her reactions said she wanted more, but he knew that was her endorphins and need for release talking, her descent into subspace complete. He’d already worked her over for longer than usual, and he could sense she was close to begging.
But he hadn’t been able to resist pushing her. She didn’t know it, but tonight was a cleansing of sorts for him. He’d driven the long way to get here with Cela in a blindfold. She was under the impression he’d taken her to one of the cabins at The Ranch, but they were somewhere decidedly closer to home.
Foster set the crop down on a side table and wrapped an arm around Cela’s waist before hitting a button on a remote he’d secured to his belt. The chains attached to the ceiling lowered with a soft grind. He smiled, enjoying the addition to the newly remodeled house. Where his mother’s precious antique chandelier had once been, he now had recessed lighting and a hidden compartment for restraints. Cela sagged into his hold, and he laid a brush of a kiss along her shoulder. “Still with me, angel?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, her breath choppy behind the words. “I’m just so . . . I need . . .”
“Shh, I know, baby,” he soothed as he helped ease her arms down to her sides and unlocked the leather cuffs. “I need you, too. So much.”
When he stepped in front of her, she raised her face to him, and he could imagine those soulful eyes behind the blindfold, the trusting, full-surrender way she looked at him in these moments. He cradled her face, his heart squeezing in his chest at the sight of her. He already loved her too much—the power of it almost painful.
He laid a kiss on her mouth, her lips parting and taking him in as if she were parched and he would provide the water. She tasted of cinnamon and nutmeg, like the cookies she’d baked this afternoon, mixed in with the earthy flavor of raw need. He tucked his hand behind her, supporting her head, and then let his other hand drift downward over her bare belly and to the smooth skin beneath. He deepened the kiss as he found her wet heat.
She sighed into the kiss as he slipped two fingers inside her, stroking her with enough pressure to make her shudder but not enough to send her over. Her body clenched around his fingers, a hot, slick fist that made his cock throb against his zipper. A groan of pleasure escaped him. “You’re so ready for me, angel. I love how wet and desperate you get when I’m rough with you. I can’t imagine anything sexier.”
“It’s all your fault,” she said, smiling as she pressed her forehead against his. “I used to be such a good girl.”
He grinned. “Oh, you’re still very, very good, my Cela.”
He dragged his hand upward, streaking her belly with her own arousal, and then cupped one of her breasts. The small metal clamp he’d placed on her nipple glinted in the firelight. He brushed a thumb across the hard point, and she gasped.
“So pretty.” He lowered his head and licked the tight, swollen nub, eliciting a desperate mewl from her.
“Oh, God, please,” she begged. “I can’t take anymore. Going to lose it.”
“You can take it. And no, you won’t. Not until I tell you,” he said, his tone firm. He sucked the other nipple into his mouth, grazing his teeth over the tip.
“Fuck.” Her back bowed, and she pressed into him, near writhing.
He smiled as he released her breast. When his sweet-mouthed girl started cursing, he knew she was barely clinging to her edge. He pushed her down to her knees and onto the thick carpet. “On your elbows, angel. I want that pretty view while I fuck you.”
Without hesitation, she went down onto her elbows, spreading her knees and presenting him with the sexiest Christmas gift he could imagine—the golden slope of her back, his marks coloring her skin, and her arousal glistening in the dancing light. Her submission, fully and unselfishly given. God, he wanted her. Not only in this moment. Not only tonight. And not only in his bed.
But right now he couldn’t let himself think that far. Right now he needed to do the one thing he’d been waiting for all night—claim the woman he loved.
—
I pressed my palms to the floor, my fingers curling into the unfamiliar carpet. Every molecule in my body seemed to be vibrating, like one wrong move and my existence would simply disintegrate into a mass of amorphous energy.
Foster had spanked me and hit me with the crop so many times, my skin tingled like there was electricity skating over it. I’d come once already, but since the initial release he’d brought me to the brink of orgasm at least four more times, licking me, touching me, and teasing me with a vibrator. My thighs were damp with my need, and my sex was throbbing, the pressure building past anything I’d ever experienced before. If he made me wait too much longer, madness or violence was a distinct possibility.
But Lord, I loved every minute of this. Being under his hand was like experiencing life on a different plane. Every color was brighter, every sound amplified, every touch like sparks. I wished I could pull off the blindfold and look back at him, see that dark power that rolled off him in these moments. But tonight I sensed he needed the shield of the blindfold more than I did. There’d been a quiet intensity about him all day.
Tonight was more. But how exactly I wasn’t sure.
I listened as Foster unzipped his pants and divested himself of his clothes—the room silent except for the popping logs in the fireplace. Then his hands were on me, spanning my hips, caressing me. He moved his palms along the curve of my ass, gently spreading me. “You have no idea how much I like seeing my marks on you, angel, what it does to me.”
I let the small of my back dip low, lifting myself to his touch, loving the grit in his voice, the str
ain.
Breath tickled my damp sex and then his mouth was on me, tenderly licking along my sensitive folds. My body shook under the simple touch, orgasm coiling in me, ready to break free. But I forced it back, breathing deeply through my nose and rocking against my forearms. “Please.”
He laid a wet kiss on my center, letting his tongue slide inside me, once, twice, then pulled back a second later as if knowing exactly how far he could push me without sending me over. “Such a patient girl. I think you need to be rewarded for that.”
I sighed into the rug as he shifted behind me, my whole being readying for what I’d been dying for all night—Foster on me, inside me, overwhelming me. But instead of the head of his cock pressing against my cleft, the slick tip nudged my back entrance. I stiffened in surprise.
“Easy, angel,” he said in that low, soothing voice of his. “We’ve been working up to this. You’re ready tonight.”
“Oh, God,” I moaned as he rubbed the head over my pucker. He’d been teasing me back there, occasionally slipping a finger in or a small plug, but never had he tried to enter me. I’d been half-intrigued and half-terrified of it for a month now.
“You trust me?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I said without hesitation.
“Then just breathe and push back against me. Your body will let me in.”
“Okay,” I said, sounding more confident than I felt. I did as he said, fighting hard not to brace myself and tense. I knew that would make it hurt. The head of his cock pressed against my ass, and I widened my knees. Resistance pushed back against him, and it felt like there was no way all of him was going to ever get past it, but then I took a deep breath and the thick head breached my entrance. A snap of discomfort went through me, the invasion so foreign, but then the lubricant went to work, easing his way, and he sank inside me. My eyes almost rolled back in my head with the intensely intimate feel of it.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Foster said on a groan, rocking into me oh-so gently. “So fucking perfect, angel. I’ll never get tired of this, of feeling you around me, every part of you being mine, experiencing how beautiful you are when you let go.”