MisplacedLessons Page 6

  Could life get any better?

  As they approached the kitchen, the sweet smell of coffee drew her straight to the counter. “If I promise to behave, will you take the handcuffs off and let me have a cup of coffee? Even hardcore prisoners get bread and water, you know.”

  Andrew studied her face as she tried to hide her absolute glee. “Fuck. You’re going to be a pain in my ass, aren’t you?”

  She winked at him.

  Andrew chuckled as he released the cuffs. “Coffee cups are in the cabinet above the dishwasher. Help yourself. Gotta warn you. It’s strong.”

  She was surprised—and disappointed—by his easy capitulation. She was hoping for more of a fight.

  Andrew grabbed a skillet and placed it on the stove. Then he rummaged around in the refrigerator, bending over in search of something. She enjoyed the view of his arse as the material of his pants stretched and outlined it. She was almost sorry when he found the bacon and eggs. He turned around too quickly and caught her staring.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Enjoying the show?”

  She ignored his arrogant comment, turning back toward the cabinet to find a mug. “Strong coffee sounds perfect. My head’s still fuzzy from so much travel. And sex.”

  He chuckled. “Then we’re in the same boat.”

  “Harper expected you to be away for a few weeks. What happened?”

  He didn’t look happy at her mention of his sister. For a second she thought he might start questioning her again, hit her with a more intense third degree. Fortunately, he let it go. Though she had no doubt he’d badger her relentlessly later.

  Harper was perfectly safe and having a great time. There was no harm in keeping her friend’s secret and having a bit of fun with her sexy brother along the way.

  Andrew reached for a bowl, then cracked several eggs before stirring them with a whisk. Amy tried to decide if there was anything hotter than a shirtless man making her breakfast. “I spent two days traveling toward a monsoon before my producers realized that was a stupid thing to do.”

  “Clever producers.” Amy took a sip of the coffee and winced. She wasn’t much of a coffee drinker and he wasn’t kidding about it being strong. He must’ve noticed her reaction.

  “There’s creamer in the fridge and sugar on the counter if you want to cut that some.”

  “What the hell is creamer?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “It’s like milk.”

  “So why don’t you just say milk?”

  He shook his head, his expression the perfect mix of exasperation and humor. “I have no idea.”

  She grinned, then accepted his offer. “Your job must be incredible. Traveling all over the world, seeing so many amazing places. I’m so bloody jealous, I can hardly see straight.”

  Andrew’s face brightened as he threw some bacon in the pan to fry. His carefree expression reminded her of the man she’d slept with last night. He and Harper shared a striking family resemblance, with their dark complexions and crystal-blue eyes. “I’m not going to lie. It’s the greatest way to make a living. You travel much?”

  She shook her head. “Actually, this is my first time out of Australia.”

  “No way. I’ve been to Australia a few times with the show. I’ll admit there are some definite differences as far as the landscape goes. The red of the Outback, the lush green of the Tasmanian rainforests, the sapphire of the Blue Mountains, the fluorescent cityscape of the Gold Coast. Depending on where you’re from, of course. Do you find that to be true of your hometown? Does it have a color?”

  He paused, clearly expecting her to answer.

  “Really, Andrew? So obvious. So lame. I’m not telling you where Harper is.”

  He shrugged good-naturedly. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. So what do you think of our country?” Andrew put down the whisk and leaned against the counter.

  She licked her lips and tilted her head in what she hoped was a seductive pose. “I’ve enjoyed the Chicago hospitality so far.”

  Mercifully, the sexy man took her hint. Reaching over, he pulled the pan from the heat and turned the stove off. “How hungry are you?”

  She unbuttoned her blouse, loving the way Andrew’s gaze devoured her as she pulled the soft material over her shoulders. She hadn’t bothered putting her bra back on in her haste to cover up earlier. “I’m starving.”

  A quick glance at Andrew’s track pants confirmed he was ready to roll. His thick cock was hard and leaving an impressive tent in the cotton. “Amy—”

  “Gettin’ cold feet? And here I was thinking you were this big tough guy,” she taunted when she sensed his hesitation.

  “Take off those pants and bend over the table.”

  His commanding tone pushed every bloody hot button she had. She quickly complied, positioning herself so that he had a bird’s-eye view of her arse, the one he’d called gorgeous last night.

  Andrew started to pull his pants down, then cursed. “Fuck. Condoms are upstairs.”

  Amy began to rise but he pressed her back against the smooth wood. “No. Don’t move. Not an inch. I want you to stay exactly like this, waiting for me.”

  “Don’t take too long.”

  He placed a light slap on her arse for her cheekiness, though there was no pain associated with the action. It was meant to serve as a reminder, nothing more.

  She pressed her legs together, feeling the wetness coating the insides of her thighs.

  “Actually,” Andrew said, “I want you to wait for me with your legs open.” He tapped his toes against her ankles until they were spread apart enough to suit him.

  “You realize you could have already gotten the bloody condom and been back by now.” His stalling was making her cranky.

  “Maybe so, but eventually you need to learn that anticipation makes the reward a lot sweeter.”

  She groaned when he moved away from the table, but didn’t bother to leave the room.

  Here we go again.

  He was going to play with her body until it felt like it would explode with unrequited lust.

  “Please, Andrew. Let’s just have a quickie. To take the edge off. Then you can tease me all you want.”

  Andrew didn’t reply. He reached toward a basket on the counter, grabbing a wooden spoon. That wasn’t on the list of limits.

  Not that it mattered. She wasn’t about to turn down anything. She still regretted saying Oz and missing her opportunity to explore anal sex.

  “You don’t mind pain.”

  She remained quiet. His comment had been rhetorical. She wasn’t going to waste the breath denying something that was obvious to both of them.

  “In fact, it makes you hot.”

  He returned to the table, standing directly behind her arse. She couldn’t see him without lifting her head and twisting. She didn’t bother. Listening to his deep voice, while not being able to see him or what he planned to do, added to the excitement. She’d told him she wouldn’t call him master, but she had to admit, he was bloody good at mastering her.

  “How hot can I make you, Amy?”

  She bit her lip to keep from telling him she was already in danger of spontaneous combustion and he hadn’t laid a finger on her. Before she could offer any answer, the wooden spoon landed squarely on her arse.

  She yelped with surprise and pain. “Bloody hell.”

  He repeated the action. Once, twice, three times more. She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers white-knuckling the edge of the table. The spoon disappeared, the pain of it being washed away by the sheer bliss of his fingers as he pressed them inside her pussy. She lifted up on her toes, struggling for more of his deep, powerful thrusts. Sweat gathered at her brow as the heat from her arse and her pussy mingled, driving her arousal closer to the flames she hoped would consume her.

  His fingers disappeared before she could leap onto the pyre. Bloody bastard was up to his same tricks. “You fucking arsehole.”

  He chuckled, swatting her with the spoon several more times. Each blow la
nded somewhere different and with a varying amount of power. She never knew what to expect as some were gentle taps, others painful slaps.

  When his fingers returned to her weeping pussy, she pressed her forehead against the table, seeking some coolness from the wood. Andrew leaned over her as he continued to fuck her, his fingers driving inside her relentlessly. Mercifully, he didn’t stop and Amy stiffened as an orgasm rumbled through her body.

  “Mother. Fuck. Shit. Bloody hell.” Every curse she’d ever heard flew from her lips in a long stream as tremors shook her.

  Andrew’s fingers stilled, though he kept them buried deep. “Where’s my sister?” he whispered.

  “Oz.”

  She let the word hover in the air between them. It would be up to him to decide if that was her answer or her retreat. He lay on top of her for several long moments as she tried to catch her breath.

  When Andrew rose, he placed a kiss in the middle of her back. “Stay put.”

  She wanted to laugh, but she didn’t have the energy. She wasn’t going anywhere and he knew it. He’d fucked her boneless. Again.

  She closed her eyes, listening to the pounding of her heart. She was so replete and exhausted, she failed to hear Andrew when he returned to the kitchen.

  The sound of the condom package tearing caught her attention. Her eyelids drifted open just as the head of his cock nudged against her pussy, seeking entrance. She thought she was too done in to do much more than simply go along for the ride. But she was mistaken. Andrew wasn’t content to let her be the passive observer as he found his pleasure in her body. He’d yet to allow her to be a wallflower at his party.

  His fingers found her clit, rubbing with enough pressure to rouse a flame from what she thought were dying embers. She groaned, fresh moisture easing his path as he pushed deep.

  “Jesus, Amy.”

  She loved the way her name sounded in his American accent. A-mee. Andrew’s thrusts were slow at first, but soon his pace increased, dragging her arousal along with it. She pressed the palms of her hands against the tabletop, trying to find purchase as she countered with an assault of her own. He was taking her with a might that spoke of his own overwhelming need. Desire gave way to greediness.

  “God. Fuck me harder, Andrew. Deeper.”

  His hands gripped her hips tightly, pulling her into his plunges. Stars formed behind her eyes.

  “Yes,” she hissed.

  Andrew grasped a handful of her hair, using his hold to pull her upright. He continued to pummel her with hard shoves while he gripped her breast with his free hand, squeezing the sensitive flesh until she cried out.

  Her second orgasm took her by surprise, flashing hard and fast. Andrew joined her, yelling out with his own release. Both of them froze, their joined bodies creating an erotic statue as they struggled to return to normal.

  What was normal anymore? A week ago, she was a lonely schoolteacher in Australia who spent most nights masturbating to fantasies she thought were scandalous and wicked, but that now seemed lukewarm and unimaginative compared to Andrew’s lessons.

  If that was normal, she’d sell her soul to the devil to avoid returning to her old life, to being that woman.

  Andrew slowly pulled out, taking a step away when he was certain she’d found her footing. He placed a gentle hand on her back, the gesture one of protection and care.

  “Okay?”

  She turned to face him, nodding. “Sort of nice to confirm last night wasn’t a fluke or a lucky first attempt.”

  Andrew laughed, the happy sound filling the quiet room. “Yeah. That’s good to know. Even so, I don’t think we should rest on our laurels. Might need to try that another dozen or so times just to be sure.”

  Now it was her turn to laugh. “Cocky bastard.”

  “Let’s eat and take that nap. Then we’ll see just how cocky I am.” As he spoke, he wrapped her hand around his dick. She was surprised to realize it was already starting to stiffen again.

  Captivity certainly had its advantages.

  Chapter Four

  Andrew followed Amy into the house, watching as she dropped her souvenir bags on a chair in the foyer. He was probably the worst kidnapper in history. His far too willing captive still wouldn’t tell him where his sister was, and after spending most of yesterday in bed, alternating between sleep and sex, Amy had roused him early this morning, insisting that he take her sightseeing.

  He’d grumbled about playing tourist in his hometown, but he’d eventually given in, gotten dressed and taken her around the city. His little Australian handful was slowly wrapping him around her little finger, something no woman—with the exception of Harper—had ever been able to do.

  He’d anticipated being bored all day, but seeing Chicago through Amy’s awestruck eyes had rejuvenated his love for the place. Her interest in the history of the city was genuine and he’d actually learned a few things he didn’t know. She hadn’t lied about doing her homework prior to traveling. Several times during the day, she’d consulted her list, checking off different sights after their visit. Her efficiency was mind-boggling.

  Her enthusiasm as she explored Chicago made him realize he’d become jaded lately. He used to feel the same rush Amy had every time he stepped off the plane in a new country, but that passion had been absent on the past few trips. He was currently in contract negotiations with the cable company that produced his show and he’d spent several sleepless nights in the last month trying to decide if he wanted to continue.

  One day exploring a city he knew better than the back of his hand with Amy had given him the kick in the pants he’d needed, proven to him he still possessed that same sense of wonder. He wasn’t ready to retire yet.

  Andrew glanced at the grandfather clock. It was nearly nine. Damn. Talk about making a day of it. They’d boarded the train, heading into the city at eight this morning. Amy had been tireless, practically bouncing from one landmark to the next. He couldn’t understand it. She had to be suffering from serious jet lag like him.

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  She gave him a funny look. “Where did that question come from?”

  He shrugged. “No idea. Just dawned on me that I don’t know.”

  “I’m twenty-five, same as Harper. And you’re thirty-five, ten years older.”

  He grimaced. “You seem to know more about me than I do about you.”

  Amy slipped off her shoes. She’d only been in his childhood home two days, but it already felt like she belonged here. He suspected she was one of those people who were at ease anywhere. “Harper talks about you all the time. Didn’t she ever mention me?”

  Andrew gave her a guilty look. “She talked about you quite a bit. I just wasn’t as good at paying attention as you were. Truth be told, I never anticipated meeting you.”

  Amy laughed. “Typical male. Only listen if it directly pertains to you. Keith and Marc are exactly the same. I swear I have to repeat myself three or four times before anything sinks into their thick skulls.”

  “Keith and Marc?” He’d heard her mention the same men earlier in the day as she’d searched for souvenirs.

  “My mates back home. They’re the ones looking after Harper right now.”

  He scowled.

  “Don’t worry, Shaw. They’ll take really good care of her.” She threw a little too much emphasis into her reassurance. Damn Aussie enjoyed trying to get a rise out of him.

  “Yeah, well, you’d better hope for their sake they take care of her just enough, but not too much.”

  “Actually, I have a little bit of a confession to make.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “About your friends?”

  “No,” she said, giggling. “About you. I used to pump Harper for information about you all the time.”

  “Why?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “At first I wanted to hear about your adventures at work, the places you were going, stuff like that. But she always added in extra details without realizing it, personality thi
ngs.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “Like how you’re overprotective of her. How you call her almost every single day to check up on her.”

  He sighed. “I haven’t spoken to my sister in three days.”

  “I know, but I truly believe you need to give Harper this time, this space.”

  “Why?”

  She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know why exactly. I just know that Harper was looking forward to escaping her real life for a little while. It’s not that she doesn’t love you. Honest. She adores you. I don’t have a brother, but I always used to think that if I did, I’d want him to be just like you.”

  “Great.” Andrew winced. “So you see me as a brother figure?”

  Amy laughed. “Bloody hell, no. I may be a country hick from out Whoop Whoop, but we’re not into incest.”

  “Aha. So my sister isn’t in Sydney.”

  Amy didn’t look concerned. “Oh yeah. That really narrows it down for you. All I’m saying is I used to wish I had a brother like you. Then Harper told me some more, um, personal stuff and my brother fantasy morphed into one that was a lot dirtier.”

  “Dirtier than what we’ve been indulging in the past two nights? Details.”

  Her smile remained. Amy was far more forthright than most women he’d been with in the past. She didn’t possess a single ounce of modesty.

  “Harper sort of let it slip that you belong to a sex club.”

  Andrew closed his eyes. “How in the hell did that come up in conversation?”

  “I told her I wanted to visit one when I came to America.”

  He thought he was beyond the point where anything Amy said surprised him. He was wrong. “Why?”

  Her eyes widened with excitement. “Why not?”

  He sighed. Why not indeed?

  Her face was still flushed from the chilly evening air. She looked vibrant, healthy, beautiful. Despite his bone-deep weariness, nothing was going to stop him from taking Amy to bed, stripping off her clothing and losing himself in her body. He’d spent most of the day flying at half-mast thanks to her skin-tight jeans and the game of cleavage peekaboo her blouse had played with him. Hell, she even smelled good. Every time he caught a whiff of her citrus-y perfume, he’d been forced to readjust his pants.