AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh,” she stammered. “I—uh—see.” And hello, dancing pygmies of arousal through her pussy again. “And…so…you…”
“Gave her what she wanted.” His jaw jutted. Tracy sensed he couldn’t tell whether to tack on a grin, a grimace, or both. “Hell, what I wanted. Trouble was…it wasn’t what she needed.”
“Which was what?”
“A fucking break.” No smirk there. Nor even the frown. When the man was angry, especially at himself, his composure went beyond the realm of standard expressions. If only that aspect of him didn’t fascinate her as much as his other sides… “By the time I realized something was truly, physically going on with her instead of the standard submissive head space, she was close to passing out from her blood sugar imbalance.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah. Holy shit.”
“But you helped her? She was okay after you realized…”
“After I realized what?” he retorted. “I didn’t know what the hell was happening—whether her sugar was spiking or dropping, or a roller coaster of both.” He breathed in violent bursts now, as if his inner bullwhip was tearing his body open, thrash by bloody thrash. “Thank fuck for Max and Delphine.”
“Who?” she pressed.
“Max Brickham,” he elucidated. “He’s my business partner. Bastille’s co-owner.”
“And Delphine is his girlfriend?”
He shook his head. “His Jag XKR-S.”
“Whoa.” She swung her own head back. “Yep. Car like that needs a name.”
“She was our heroine for the night too. Got Abbie to the hospital in five minutes flat. They processed her fast. Balanced her levels out right away.”
“And all was well that ended well.” Which had her stomach hurting and heart twisting all over again. The hideous green monster wouldn’t stay away, even if she was the one currently mashed on the man’s lap, feeling the bounty in his pants between her ass cheeks.
“Sure. Let’s just say that.” But a Tardis dropped in the middle of the room would’ve been easier to ignore than his caustic overtone. “‘All was well that ended well’.”
Tracy huffed. “No saying it if it wasn’t true.” Grabbed the V of his Henley and tugged again. “So was it?”
The man’s luscious mouth opened. Clamped shut again.
“John?”
Another moment. Obvious deliberation in the sienna shadows of his eyes. “Yeah. Sure,” he said, like a father relenting on a candy request to a relentless kid.
Tracy released his shirt. Curled her finger in with the others in order to form a full fist—quickly pummeled into his sternum. “Yeah, sure?” she retaliated. “How about yeah sure, you’re full of bullshit?”
Humor pursed his lips and sparkled in his eyes. “Well, well, well, Madame President. Bossy is kind of sexy on you.”
“Don’t change the subject.” She dug knuckles into the closest slab of pectoral. He humored her by wincing, but his demeanor sobered by several degrees.
“Fine,” he relented, rocking against the chair’s headrest so his stare pierced up at the ceiling. “You deserve the truth about the last part too.”
“The last part?” She sounded five kinds of nosey, probably ten in suspicious. Inwardly puking about both accounts, she stroked a hand to the side of his neck and reached—reeaached—for a light laugh. “You mean there’s more than a close call with a diabetic coma?”
“Oh yeah.” He snorted, though didn’t borrow any of her humor. “A close call with a much bigger risk—at least to Abbie.” His gaze darkened as his voice softened. “Her reputation.”
Like a congressional budget finally balancing, so much began to make sense. “Oh,” Tracy blurted. Repeated it, drawing the sound out with the light of comprehension, before stating as the fact she was so sure of, “So someone in the ER recognized her. Maybe more than one someone.”
“Both her nurses.” With the affirmation, Franz began gently rocking the chair. The man and his Adonis thighs were making it damn hard to stay focused on the subject. She kept it together as he went on, “They were both huge fans—meaning neither missed the subtle marks still left on her waist from the flogging, or her cagey answers about what we’d been doing on our ‘date’ earlier in the evening.”
“Oh.” The syllable got extended once more, though this version was lighter in her throat and on her psyche. Didn’t mean she couldn’t feel awful about it. Embarrassment was never fun for anyone. “So what did she finally tell them?”
“She didn’t,” Franz answered. “I stepped in, basically letting them know it was a private matter between lovers. But as soon as they left, Abbie turned and dropped the hammer. She was adamant about never seeing me, or a kink dungeon, ever again.” He evened his gaze with hers again. “I drove her home, even called her the next day. She didn’t pick up. Day after that, I hopped on a plane for North Korea.”
