Page 55 of Dancin' with Demons

“What’s wrong, little love?”

Shaking my head, I take his hand in mine and pull him gently behind me to our bedroom. Once we’re inside, I close the door and lock it. “Do you trust me?”

His eyes widen as he stares at me. “Of course, I do. Raylynn, what’s going on?”

“Go lay on the bed, Renegade,” I say in the strongest voice I can muster. I’ve never really made a move on someone, but every moment with Renegade makes me want to be a little bolder, a little more forward with him. It all comes back to the fact that with him, I feel completely safe.

For a moment, Renegade just stares at me, but eventually, he walks to the bed, lays in the middle with his back propped up against the wooden headboard, his eyes never leaving me. Taking a deep breath, I head over to the far side of the bed and grab the bandanna off the top of the headboard. Taking Renegade’s hand, I pull his arm up and thread the bandanna through the wooden slats of the headboard before tying it around his wrist, effectively binding his arm to the headboard.

“Raylynn,” he says in a low, husky voice that sends chills down my spine, “what are you doin’?”

“Do you have another bandanna?” I say as I move back around the foot of the bed to the other side, trying not to laugh at the look of utter confusion on Renegade’s face right now.

“Nightstand.”

Taking another deep breath, I open his nightstand drawer and pull out a matching bandanna to the first one and proceed to tie his other wrist to the headboard as well. Without saying anything, I move to the bottom of the bed and just stare at Renegade, tied to the headboard, a strange expression on his face. Slowly, I climb up the bed to straddle him, and he leans his head back, lust filling his eyes. The moment my lips touch his, he groans and the bed shakes as he moves his arms. I can’t help but chuckle.

“No touching for you right now,” I whisper against his lips before moving back so that I’m sitting just below his knees. Leaning forward, I unbuckle his belt and pop the button. Getting off his legs, Renegade lifts his hips when I grab the sides of his pants, and I gently wiggle his jeans and boxer briefs down, his cock springing free, rock hard. Once I have his pants completely off, I drape them over the foot of the bed and climb back up to kneel between Renegade’s legs.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, “I’m not complainin’ but what brought this on?”

Biting my bottom lip, I shrug before lowering my face and running my tongue around the head of his cock. He groans loudly, flexing his hips upward as I wrap my hand around his base and take him in my mouth. Renegade is well above average, and his cock fills my mouth as I take as much of him as I can, stretching the corners of my mouth. Sucking as I move, I swirl my tongue around the head again before moving down.

“Fuck me,” Renegade hisses, “that feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Mmm,” I hum as I find a steady rhythm with my mouth and hand working together on his cock. For the next ten or so minutes, I let go of any self-consciousness I have, all the worry, and lose myself in pleasuring Renegade. His moans and whispers, the way he strains against his bindings make me want to please him more.

“Raylynn,” he gasps through harsh breaths, “stop or I’m gonna come in your mouth, little love.”

I do the opposite and gag a little as I force myself to take him almost all the way to his base, humming with my own pleasure at the way he responds, his hips flexing, the way he cusses under his breath. As I slide my mouth back down, Renegade groans my name a second before he comes in my mouth, his load coating the back of my throat as I quickly swallow, and then proceed to lick his cock clean before sitting up and wiping the corners of my mouth.

Renegade’s chest rises and falls heavily with each breath as he stares as me, and I jump in surprise as he forcefully tries to pull his arms from the headboard. “Raylynn, untie my damn hands so I can fuckin’ touch you. Now.”

Chuckling, I shake my head. “Mmm, you’re going to get dressed while I brush my teeth, and then we’re going to go have dinner.”

The growl that comes from Renegade’s throat is low and forceful. “After that, you’re not gonna let me please you? Seriously?”

Getting off the bed, I untie his left wrist but move quick enough that he can’t grab me. “Sometimes, giving you that much pleasure is all I need, Makoa.”

His body stills at my words, and I use his momentary shock to untie his other wrist. Without waiting, I move back around the bed and walk into the en suite bathroom. As I’m putting toothpaste on my toothbrush, Renegade’s arms slide around my waist, and his lips lightly press against my neck. “I love you, woman. I hope you know that.”

“I know,” I whisper before turning the water on and quickly brushing my teeth, while he just stands behind me, his hands resting on my waist the entire time.

“You’ve changed, Raylynn,” he says softly as I turn my back on the sink and face him. “I’m seein’ strength and confidence in you that wasn’t there a week ago.”

As he tucks my hair behind my ear, I bring my hands up to rest against his chest. “I know I’m safe with you, Makoa. So, I’m getting more comfortable doing things I haven’t done in a long time, if ever.”

The broad and genuine smile that graces his lips, crinkling his eyes at the corners, makes me chest swell. “I’m proud of you, little love. So damn proud.” And he leans down and kisses me again.

By the time we make it to the kitchen, we walk in to find Savior and Reaper playing Hangman with her peas, and all I can do is laugh. Renegade and I both heat up plates and sit at the breakfast nook across from Reaper and Savior, and eat quietly as we watch them. I’m impressed that while playing with some of the food, Reaper manages to get Savior to eat all her vegetables, which is something I generally fight with her to do. At least, I used to before our financial situation ended with us eating strictly from cans. Now that we’re with Renegade, I guess I’m going to have to get used to cooking again, which isn’t really a bad thing.

By eleven, I’m rinsing dishes while laughter and shouts come from the dining room where Savior has conned Renegade and Reaper into a late-night board game party, and by the sincere groans from both the men, I think she’s actually beating them at Connect Four. I’ve laughed at my daughter’s scolding voice yelling, “language!” more times than I can count, which is always followed by her telling one of them they own money to the Swear Jar. An actual Swear Jar is something we’re going to need to invest in.

Loading the last two plates into the dishwasher and starting it, I dry my hands on one of the kitchen towels as my cell phone vibrates across the island counter. Picking it up, the screen is illuminated with a new text alert. Instead of a number, though, it reads, “Private.”

Unlocking my phone, I open the text and my stomach drops. Loaded on the thread is a picture of Savior and I. I know exactly when it’s from, where we were, what we were doing . . . But that’s not what has tears stinging my eyes and panic threatening to cut off my air. Underneath the picture is a message.

Private: Maybe we can give her a brother in less than six months this time.

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