Then he pushes in deep, rubbing the crest against the back of my throat until I gag. The way his hands tighten in my hair, I know it turns him on to hear me make the sound. Especially when he pulls out and pushes back in, relishing the way I struggle for him.

“Yeah,” he says, voice drunk, eyes dark slits as he stares down at me. “Work for it, beautiful. Make me good and hard.”

He’s already hard, but I can’t tell him that—not with my mouth full of his thick cock. I can’t do anything but suck in ragged breaths when he lets me, stroke him with my tongue when I can.

His fist tightens to the point of pain, and tears spring to my eyes, blurring my vision. I don’t need to see him to know what comes next. He’s holding me steady so he can fuck my mouth, fast and hard. He keeps up a steady rhythm. I manage to breathe through my nose, and for a few minutes it feels like I can handle him.

Then he speeds up and goes deeper.

I gag around him, but there’s no time to recover, no time to react. I can only struggle and fight against my ties, against him—I can only fight against the world while he invades me, relentless and cruel.

The doorbell rings.

He freezes. Carefully, he pulls back enough so that I can breathe and swallow. But his cock is still filling my mouth. I can’t talk as I look up at him.

“Who the fuck?” he mutters.

His head is cocked like he’s listening. Probably hoping they’ll go away, whoever they are.

I’m hoping the same thing, because my pussy is clamped down tight around nothing. I want his cock filling me up, rubbing against my walls. I want the hot splash of his come to soothe me.

Testing him, I run my tongue over the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

The doorbell rings again, and Blue swears. “If it’s Mr. Robicheaux, I’m going to barricade the damn door.”

I have to laugh at that. Mr. Robicheaux is the older gentleman who shares the floor of this swanky condo building with us. Blue reluctantly agreed to dog sit Mr. Robicheaux’s Pomeranian one weekend when he visited his children. Ever since then his neighbor has a tendency to drop by at odd hours and share some tidbit about the dog’s sleeping habits or the TV Guide. You’d think a guy as gruff as Blue wouldn’t give him the time of day, but he’s actually been patient.

It completely charms me.

Blue pulls on jeans and a T-shirt, still grumbling. Before he leaves, he tugs at the ties on my wrists, and the cloth falls to the bed. He points at me, already heading to the door. “Do not fucking move.”

I’m grinning when he leaves. He could have left me tied up. It probably would have turned him on to know I couldn’t move. Hell, it would have turned me on. But it isn’t really safe to leave me tied up without supervision, so he didn’t do it.

Damn, it feels good to have someone care.

It feels good to have Blue care. And that is flat-out terrifying. I need him, more than he knows. And a lot more than is safe.

I hear voices coming from the living room, and they pique my curiosity. It can’t be Mr. Robicheaux unless he’s dropped an octave. And Blue sounds almost like he’s… laughing? No matter how patient he is with his elderly neighbor, he doesn’t actually shoot the shit.

I hesitate in bed a half a second. Do not fucking move.

Curiosity has me disobeying his order and throwing on some of Blue’s clothes that were lying on the bed—a white undershirt and some boxers that fit him snug but are large shorts on me.

As I open the door, I can hear the voices more clearly.

“What the fuck, man? You said you were coming tomorrow.” That’s Blue.

Another voice answers. “What can I say? I had the chance to take an earlier flight, and I couldn’t wait to see your ugly mug. The doorman sent me up. Said you were expecting me.”

There’s more laughing and good-natured ribbing. It all comes to a screeching halt when the guy spots me in the hallway. Heat rushes to my cheeks. Caught.

Blue turns and sees me. Amusement flashes through his face, along with a promise—oh, he’d punish me later. For now he smiles and reaches for me. “Come here, beautiful. This is West.”

West is one of Blue’s friends from the military. I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard some stories. He stayed in the military after Blue had left, but now he’s out. The plan is that he’ll move down here and work at the Grand under Blue’s new security firm.

Apprehension slows my step, but I still make my way over and let Blue pull me to his side.

“This is Hannah,” he says, the pride clear in his voice.

I smile, feeling shy. Maybe because I’m meeting someone important to Blue. Maybe also because I’m only wearing Blue’s undershirt and boxers. Add to that my rumpled hair and cheeks that must be pink, and he’ll surely know what we’ve been doing. Blue’s come is still a faint taste in my mouth, the word MINE still written across my breasts, even if he can’t see.

West nods, managing to look totally respectful despite all this. He’s tall with dark skin, and though he’s almost as big as Blue, he’s got a laid-back demeanor that sets me at ease. “Ma’am.”

I have to laugh at that. I’ve worked the past few years as a stripper at the Grand, something he must know. And before that I was nobody, a foster kid with no place for a home. “No one calls me ‘ma’am.’”

He grins. “Sorry, it’s just habit at this point. Spent way too long in a tent to know how to talk to people now. Kind of like this asshole,” he says, nodding toward Blue, “but here he is with a decent place and a girl of his own. Pardon my language.”

A girl of his own. I liked the sound of that. “Nah, he’s kind of an asshole,” I admit. “But I can handle him.”

“I believe that,” he says, giving me a once-over that’s appreciative but not aggressive.

“Watch it,” Blue growls, but West just laughs.

Chapter Two

Blue had told me about West moving down here and about him working in the Grand. He didn’t mention that West would be staying at the condo for a few days until he found a place of his own. I don’t mind the company, especially after meeting West and seeing how laid-back he is. But it bothers me that I didn’t know about it.

It’s a cold reminder that this isn’t my condo.

I just live here. I want to be secure with Blue, to really trust that he wants me here for good. But I have too much history of being kicked out, of getting moved around from foster home to foster home, of being unwanted. It’s hard to shake an entire childhood of conditioning that I’m unworthy.

I try to shake that feeling though. Blue is worth it. And somehow West makes me feel comfortable, even though he’s just arrived. We spend the next day together at the apartment while Blue is at work.

“No way,” I say between gasped breaths.

West is laughing too. “I swear, he had no memory of getting a tattoo, but we were all looking at the evidence of it. I mean all looking at it. He wasn’t wearing any clothes.”

I bite my lip to hold in a laugh at the thought of Blue after a hangover, trying to be stern for his squad but totally naked. I’ve seen Blue naked more than enough times to picture it. Although… “How come I haven’t seen this?”

“He got it removed.”

“Who got what removed?” I turn to see Blue striding into the room, tossing his suit jacket onto the couch and loosening his tie. “You aren’t telling stories about me, are you?”

He gives West a dire look that just makes me grin like an idiot. “Maybe he wouldn’t have to tell me if you told me,” I say pointedly.

Blue snorts as he sits beside me—and proceeds to drag me onto his lap. He flicks off West. “Some things are better forgotten.”

God, that is the truth. “Not this, though. What was the tattoo of?”

West grins but says nothing.