He stared at her as he tried to recount their activities from the night before, and he realized she was right. When he'd taken her in the bedroom that last time, he hadn't even thought to use a condom.

Though he probably owed her an apology, he couldn't bring himself to be sorry. And she didn't seem to want his contrition.

He nodded. "Lift up."

She rose to her knees, and he pushed his shorts down to allow access. She canted her hips forward, trying to line him up at her opening. He helped.

"Slowly, Kitty Kat. Sink down slowly." Her dripping heat felt like heaven on his c.o.c.k. "You're going to f.u.c.k me. Then you're going to kneel on the floor and lick me clean. You'll lick me until I'm ready again, and then I'm going to f.u.c.k you again. If you come without permission, I will stop, and I will beat your a.s.s." And then he'd f.u.c.k it, but he didn't add that. She seemed incapable of controlling her o.r.g.a.s.ms when he took her a.n.a.lly. Part of him didn't want to see her learn to control them. He liked that he could drive her beyond her ability to command her body.

She sank down until he was fully sheathed. Her hot, velvety warmth gripped him like an enclosure made just for his c.o.c.k. The expression on her face morphed from need to an almost painful bliss, and he understood the enormity of what she felt, because he felt it too.

After a few seconds, she began to move. She tried to set a fast, grinding rhythm, but with her arms bound, she lacked some of the necessary maneuverability. He wasn't inclined to help her, because she had him nearly there a lot faster than he had wanted to arrive.

Then she clamped down on him, her p.u.s.s.y tightening around his c.o.c.k. His Kat had figured out that he liked the pain with his pleasure, and she used it now to heighten his experience.

"Vixen."

She smiled in triumph until he was forced to grip her hair and ruin her attempt at control with a punishing kiss. Her juices dribbled from her p.u.s.s.y, drenching his b.a.l.l.s. If possible, she squeezed him even harder. His b.a.l.l.s drew up, and he came, a torrent of hot s.e.m.e.n bursting from his c.o.c.k to mark its territory.

Immediately, he lifted her from him and placed her on the floor between his legs. The cushion wasn't there. He'd placed it to his right side so she could work on her briefs uninhibited by the placement of his limbs. No matter. The room was carpeted, so she had some padding.

She regarded his softened c.o.c.k cautiously.

He smoothed her hair back from her face. "Have you never tasted yourself, Kitty Kat?"

She shook her head, but her expression remained uncertain. "But this isn't just me. It's you and me combined."

That seemed to solidify her resolve. She bent down, and her pink tongue darted out, taking a swipe at the sensitive tip of his c.o.c.k. She paused for a second as though considering the flavor, and then she went at him like he was covered in chocolate and whipped cream.

She moaned and slurped, two of the s.e.xiest sounds he'd ever heard her make. His c.o.c.k didn't take long to rouse. It stirred to life, seeking the heat of her mouth.

Abruptly she lifted and captured his mouth for a searing, short kiss, and then she returned to his c.o.c.k. He understood that she'd shared the treat, but in reality all she'd done was strip away his patience.

He tore her mouth away from his clean c.o.c.k, pushing her back so abruptly she nearly toppled. In seconds, he had her splayed out on the sofa with his face buried between her legs.

She wiggled and shouted. The sudden movement had caused her some additional pain in her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. With her arms still tightly bound, her hands ended up under her a.s.s, which had the added benefit of lifting her into the air.

Not bothering with niceties, he licked and sucked, thrusting his tongue into her hole to gather the cream hiding there. The extra saltiness, he knew, was his contribution to their pa.s.sion.

She sobbed and screamed, pleading with him. "Please, Keith. May I come? Please, oh please, Master. Let me come."

That last part might have been a slip of the tongue, but it showed her true att.i.tude toward him. His heart soared, and he mumbled permission against her quivering flesh.

And then she came, climaxing with such force that her juices rushed out, bathing his face in her fragrance. d.a.m.n, but he could die here.

No, he couldn't. His c.o.c.k wanted more, and it was finally fully ready. He flipped her over to relieve the stress on her arms and shoulders, and he positioned her a.s.s high in the air, exposing her swollen p.u.s.s.y. It still pulsed from the aftershocks of her o.r.g.a.s.m.

He plunged inside, f.u.c.king her hard to an impossibly fast rhythm. The sane part of his brain remembered her nipple clamps. Taking them off too soon would chase away her o.r.g.a.s.m. He waited until she begged once again for permission. As he consented, he released both clamps.

She buried her scream in the sofa cushion, her v.a.g.i.n.al muscles sucking him deeper as they spasmed around his aching c.o.c.k, and he pounded into her until he fell over that precipice too.

Chapter Nine.

What a change one week could make. When Aaron set a cup of coffee on her desk Monday morning, Katrina felt worlds better than the last time he'd opened the workweek with a caffeinated gift.

Keith had used his powers of persuasion to make her stay the night, and in the morning he'd ordered her to m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.e in the shower. This time he joined her, watching at first and then treating her to the sight of his fist pumping along his shaft.

They came together, by the power of their hands, in each other's arms.

She gave Aaron a brilliant smile. "Good morning, counselor. How was your weekend?"

He lifted a pale brow. "Okay. This is weird. I heard you picked up a stalker, and here you are, beaming like you just won the lottery."

And giggling like an idiot because she'd just come from a weekend-long s.e.xual marathon. It took a few seconds for her to regain her composure. "Unfortunately, I did pick up one of those nasty things. But I'm surrounded by family and friends, and that can make all the difference."

A look of admiration came into his eyes, and he returned her smile. "Good for you, not being intimidated. You can't let this chase you away from your home or work, or make you afraid to live your life."

Keith hadn't left her alone all weekend, so technically she wasn't being all that brave. She shrugged. "The FBI is on it. Malcolm and Keith set cameras up all over, and they haven't left me alone yet. It's easy to be brave when I have such strong support."

Aaron nodded slowly, almost as if his head was already inside his next case. "Well, if you need anything, I'm here for you too."

She squeezed his hand. "Thanks. Your friendship means a lot to me."

"Really?" He looked down at her hand. Then he put his other hand over it and squeezed back. "Do you maybe have a minute to read over a brief for me before I file it?" A teasing grin accompanied his request.

She swallowed her groan. As much as she loved Aaron, his briefs were often a mess, frequently with incorrect citations and faulty logic. But he was her friend, always there for her when she needed him. "I've got about fifteen minutes. I'll look it over, but I can't guarantee I'll be as thorough as I usually am."

Sitting in lingerie with Keith inches away hadn't been conducive to work. While she had been able to get some things done, she had a lot left to do.

Leaning down, he brushed a kiss on her cheek. "You're the best, Katrina. Thanks."

Five minutes later, she sipped her coffee and shook her head at the mess of words on the computer in front of her. The names of both the judge and the defense attorney were spelled wrong, and those were the small issues. Aaron would never earn a seat on a prominent case until he learned to take more time with things. She sent it back to him with a note to have him recheck some of his facts.

The day flew by, but reality intruded when she went to her car after work to find Keith standing next to it in the parking garage. She wanted to sprint the distance between them and throw her arms around him, but he wore his special-agent look. It sent her stomach plummeting.

"What's wrong?"

He frowned and shook his head. "I wanted to make sure it was safe for you to get into your car."

They could have driven to work together. He worked two blocks away, and they'd both come from his house. However, Katrina knew how unlikely it would be for them to both leave at the same time. She often had to go to court or visit a witness or suspect. He drove all over the east side of the state during the course of his regular duties. One of them would have ended up stranded, so he'd taken her home to retrieve her car this morning.

She swallowed and nodded. The fear she'd denied all day came to the fore. While she'd been stuck in the office, her stalker could have broken into her car.

He handed her a set of keys. "I had the locks on your condo changed. You have a set, I have a set, and I've already delivered a set to your parents. I made an appointment to take your car in tomorrow to get those locks changed. I need you to go with me and sign off on it."

Feelings lodged in her throat. She might call them words, but she couldn't think of anything to say. Malcolm and Keith installing cameras had made her feel secure, but she recognized now that the cameras weren't an early warning system. They might or might not act as a deterrent. If her stalker came for her when she was alone, the cameras would only offer evidence after the fact.

Keith closed the distance. His strong arms provided physical support for her emotional upheaval. "Breathe, Kat. I've got you. I'm going to follow you home. I've already been to your place today, and I've reviewed the tapes. Nothing's happened."

He was, she realized, just as terrified of leaving her alone as she was of being alone. He sought to rea.s.sure her and to convince himself that she would be safe there without him. Because his schedule wasn't regular, he'd eventually have to work late, which would leave her on her own for the evening.

"I'm okay." She mumbled the rea.s.surance into his shirt. "What time tomorrow?"

"We'll go on the way home from work. Can you pop your trunk?" He released her enough that she could fumble with her keys and push the right b.u.t.ton.

He lifted the lid, revealing the industrial-sized first-aid kit her father insisted she always carry. Ever the thorough agent, he also checked inside the zippered case. "Looks good." He slammed the trunk of her sedan shut. "Okay, go ahead and get in. I'll meet you at your house. There's a one-hundred-percent chance that your parents are going to be stopping by for dinner and an eighty-percent chance that your mother made orange marmalade ice cream."

That was a new flavor for her mother, but the woman constantly added to her repertoire. "Where did she come up with that one?"

Keith grinned. Most men would have come off as smug, but he managed to look sinfully handsome. "We might have discussed it earlier today."

From his tone, she a.s.sumed they'd be the ones cooking dinner and her parents were bringing dessert. "I'm not cooking naked tonight."

That grin didn't diminish.

__________.

Keith managed to meet her at her car every day after work that week. Tuesday, after taking her to have her car rekeyed, he ran her through a review of basic kickboxing moves at the FBI's indoor training facility. In college, she'd dutifully learned how to kickbox and how to use a variety of firearms as an excuse to get closer to Keith. All those lessons, and he'd never once tried anything. That, and Malcolm had frequently joined them.

This time proved no different, at least until they arrived back at her place.

Wednesday night at his house, she spent the majority of the time naked. They played in the dungeon. He sent her to subs.p.a.ce and let her stay there for a little while before he took her to his bedroom and made love to her.

Thursday she was scheduled at the courthouse. After an exhausting day arguing motions and going through the motions to hear pleas, she was ready to spend some serious downtime kneeling at Keith's feet. In all the years she'd l.u.s.ted after his body and pined for his affection, she never thought she'd look forward to being naked-or nearly so-and on her knees. She didn't even particularly like feet.

She did like the way it made her feel. When she sat on that oversize pillow and rested her cheek just above his knee, she felt protected, cherished, appreciated, and even loved. She felt whole and happy. He gave her permission not to think about anything but being there with him.

Exiting the building at five always proved to be a slow process. It seemed like a million people were trying to get out at the same time. She knew about half the people flowing in her direction, so she didn't lack for company or conversation.

As freedom came closer, she ran through her mental checklist to make sure she had everything. Now that she was keeping her purse and keys in her briefcase-and her briefcase was in her possession at all times-she was developing a habit of forgetting other things. The day before, she'd forgotten several important files on her desk. She'd left them lying out in the open, which wasn't the custom. Files were supposed to be kept under lock and key. If she wasn't going to take them home, she needed to return them to the records room.

Aaron had shaken his head at her mistake, but he hadn't commented on it as she returned them the next morning. She liked that he wasn't the kind of person to rib her for it or make a big deal out of the lapse.

Once she made it outside, the August heat hit her like a brick wall in the face. Her colleagues scattered in all directions, and someone tapped on her shoulder.

She turned on the wide sidewalk to find a rough-looking woman with her face twisted in a half sneer. The odor of stale cigarettes hung in the vicinity like a disgusting cloud. The woman pointed her finger at Katrina. "I thought you looked familiar. You're my boy's girlfriend?"

Recognition wafted into Katrina's brain on a nicotine courier. "Mrs. Rossetti?"

The sneer melted, and the woman nodded. "You can call me Starr. I knew you was special when he got p.i.s.sed about me calling you a wh.o.r.e. He don't usually care. Didn't think Keith would ever settle down with one woman. But you're cla.s.sy, ain'tcha? A lawyer. Not the type he usually dates." Her voice was deep and throaty with the kind of huskiness that came from years of smoking.

Katrina had no idea how to respond to that. She opted for offering a friendly smile. "It's nice to meet you, Starr. I'm Katrina Legato."

Her face scrunched up again. "You related to Malcolm?"

"He's my brother." She didn't know what Starr Rossetti was doing at the courthouse. And then she wondered if Keith's sister, Savannah, was inside one of the holding cells in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

"Look, I know Keith don't want nothin' to do with me. He always wanted a different kind of mother, probably one that liked kids. I don't apologize, cuz it seems to me he turned out just fine. Those other two, though." She shook her head. Strands of pink and gray gleamed from her bra.s.sy hair. The ponytail in the back showed evidence the ends had recently been dipped in red. "The one's a lazy, good-for-nothin' drunk. The other just got eight years. Manslaughter, I think. Something like that."

Katrina wondered how in the world Savannah's mother could fail to even know what the charges had been, but she knew better than to ask. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Keith don't talk about us none, does he?" Her tone was neither angry nor regretful. It was a fact she had already accepted.

That didn't stop Katrina from feeling sympathetic toward the woman. Despite what she said, she was his mother. "No. I'm sorry."

Starr batted her hand as if waving away a bad odor. The stench of cigarettes stirred, but it didn't diminish. "Whatever. You tell him those kids are in the system. I think they go up for adoption next week. I don't want 'em, and Savannah knows she ain't gonna be any good for those kids. Anyway, the state won't let her keep 'em. If he don't want 'em, I guess they can just as well find a new family. He wouldn't listen to me. I'm only telling you because I thought he should know."

With that, Starr Rossetti turned around to leave.

Katrina reached out and snagged Starr by her shoulder. "Wait. What kids? I don't know what you're talking about."

She sighed as if to say she'd washed her hands of the topic and didn't care to revisit it. "Savannah had two kids. I think they're something like four and two, or maybe four and one, or three and one. I don't know. They're little, and the one don't use the toilet. I don't do diapers. Keith's dad dealt with the c.r.a.p." She paused to laugh at her joke. "But he don't want no kids around neither. We raised ours. We ain't raisin' more."

If Savannah couldn't find a place for them, the state would put them into the foster care system, but it couldn't force her to relinquish her rights. That was a voluntary action.

Katrina played a hunch. "Were they taken away? Has the state terminated her parental rights?"

"I lose track of all her trials. They're living with some family in Roseville, but it's just supposed to be temporary. I don't know. I don't go visit. You gotta ask the social worker." She stabbed a final finger at Katrina. "You tell Keith."

Starr jerked her shoulder from Katrina's grasp and walked away, setting a fast pace that signaled the end of the conversation. Something in the stiffness of her back warned Katrina not to follow.

Keith was likely waiting at her car. She texted him a quick message to let him know she'd been held up, and then she headed back into the courthouse. He might be unwilling to listen to his mother, but Katrina understood the woman's underlying concern. Though Starr wasn't prepared to take them on, she didn't want to see her grandchildren end up with strangers.

The least Katrina could do was look into the matter.

A brief foray into records turned up nothing, mostly because everyone was heading home for the day. Savannah Rossetti's name wasn't in the system. Downstairs in the jail, she searched the sign-in sheets to see who Starr had visited. She'd just found the name Savannah Shaw when she felt the p.r.i.c.kle of eyes boring into the back of her head.

Whirling to face the threat, she found Dustin leaning against the far wall. Though it was the end of what had to have been a long day for him too, he managed to look fresh. He smiled and waved.

She lifted a brow. "Are you babysitting me?"

Dustin pushed away from the wall and came closer. "Terrible reception down here. Rossetti tried calling, but he couldn't get through."

In her text, she hadn't rea.s.sured him or told him where she'd be or what she was doing. Guilt sat heavy in her chest. "Sorry. I had some last-minute things to do."

Inclining his head at the direction of the papers she'd just returned to the uniformed clerk, he said, "Finished?"

She nodded. Though she had a lot more digging to do, she was reluctant to air Keith's laundry, especially when he didn't know it was hanging out the window. "Is he terribly worried?"

"Yeah." Dustin put his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the door. It was a subtle alteration of the way he'd always interacted with her, as if the Dom in him acknowledged the sub in her. "I was in the building, so when he called me, I came looking for you."