Chapter Fifteen

Imparted Pain

Tucker

"What happened?"

If he didn't know better, Tucker might have thought it was actual concern he saw flashing in Ella's eyes, but how could it be?

She didn't know him. She didn't care. After all, she was the one bound to the end of his bed. He pulled his gaze away from her unblemished skin and pebbling nipples.

"Sir?" She shuffled forward on her knees, tightening the ponytail entwined with his expensive silk. "How did you get shot? Was there a crime?"

Crime? Briefly, his brow creased. She either thinks I'm a victim or a perpetrator. He didn't have to be a genius to guess which.

"I was on duty." His gaze landed on her again.

It was taking every ounce of his effort to resist the urge to reach for her, to goad her tightening nipples into long points he could suckle or force his twitching cock back into her mouth.

Ella was the very epitome of temptation.

"Duty?" She gulped. "Are you a cop?"

Her voice rang out with disbelief, although he couldn't blame her. Policing had never been his style. No doubt it was why he was struggling to manage her pretty ass. If he spent time with a subject, he softened to their plight. It was also why he'd been such a good anonymous assassin. He never had to know them. Only swoop in and do the job.

"No." He forced himself to sit on the bed beside her. Anything to distract from the overwhelming inducement of enjoying her incredible body again. "Military."

"You're a soldier?" Her eyes lit up as if a penny had just dropped.

"Was," he corrected. "Special forces." Though really, his unit had only been dispatched when his superiors decided targets needed to be taken out. There was nothing special about it.

"Wow." A line appeared on her flawless brow, and he wanted to laugh at her shock.

Yes, he'd been a soldier. Yes, he'd been paid to take orders and kill on command. It wasn't something he was especially proud of, but it had helped to make him the man he was.

"And someone shot you."

"People shot at me all the time." Tucker had developed a reputation for being impossible to hit until that day in the bunker… "But only one person ever succeeded. The bastard managed three shots."

"I'm sorry." Her voice was a whisper. "I've never been around guns." She fidgeted, seemingly even more irritated by the talk of weapons than she was with the bondage. "I don't like them."

"I agree." He nodded. "That's why I don't have them here. I only used them for work when I was ordered to."

"That sounds intense." She managed a tiny smile, although he could tell how painful she was finding her current position.

Tucker had been held in similar stress positions when he was captured and held as a prisoner. But there'd been no one on hand to offer him homemade food and orgasms.

"It was." His focus darted to the largest of the three welts left by the bullet at his shoulder. He still didn't know how Collins had dragged him out of that hellhole, yet they'd both made it to fight another day. Tucker had spent months recovering. That was when he'd uncovered Collins' true intentions… "Now all I have are the scars."

"We all have those, I think." Her tone was suddenly sad. "It's just not all of them are visible."

A hushed moment of reflection settled over them where Tucker's mind rattled through the numerous missions he'd executed. He could recall each kill as easily as he remembered the ecstasy of her pussy. It seemed pleasure and pain were never to be erased.

Staring at her thoughtful expression, he wondered what or who it was that occupied her thoughts.

"Let me get you a drink." He glanced back to the fire. "I have fresh water from earlier. I fetched it while you slept."

"Thanks." Her gaze flitted to his. "To be honest, I've started to lose track of time. I can't remember the last time I drank, sir."

Guilt furled in his chest. "That's on me." He was already striding to the fresh water. Collecting the beaker he usually drank from, he poured the water to the top. "Here."

Carrying the drink toward her, his gaze met hers. "Open, please."

"Are you going to pour it over me again, sir?" Her dry tone invited greater penance, but he supposed he deserved the jibe. "I only ask because it took me hours to dry properly, then you got me all wet again."

"You are such a bad girl." He chuckled at her quip, secretly thrilled that she seemed less angry and as relaxed as she could be while trussed and ready to do his bidding.

"I guess so." She tilted her head at him. "What can I say?"

"How about, ‘Please may I have the water, sir?'" He threw her a wink.

"Okay." She sucked her lower lip into her mouth. "Please, may I have the water in my mouth, sir?" She suppressed a giggle as he shook his head.

"In your mouth, eh?" Fuck, he wanted her. It didn't seem to matter that she was cross with him, pissing him off, or curled up like a baby, he always wanted her.

"Yes, please." Her breaths were shallow as he neared with the beaker.

"Head back and mouth open."

Slowly, she obeyed, keeping her gaze on him as she complied. A shot of electricity surged along his spine and contracted in his testicles as he inched the plastic to her lips.

The act was innocuous enough, even given his impertinence with cold water in the barn, but something about her supplication was breathtaking. There was an elegance as her lips parted, her green eyes fixing on him as though he was the center of her entire universe.

A surreal clarity washed over Tucker. He wanted that, needed to be at the center of her world.

"Drink." He waited, watching as she guzzled down the first of the water. He only allowed a little to pass between her lips at a time, ensuring it didn't spill. Once she'd swallowed about a third of the beaker's contents, he paused and smoothed her hair from her face. "Enough? Or do you want more?"

Despite her vulnerability and the obvious discomfort of her pose, her lips twitched. "That's enough for now. Thank you, sir."

"Good girl." His hand clasped her cheek gently as he drained the remaining water himself. There was something oddly erotic about sharing the vessel, as though there were to be no secrets between them anymore. "Thank you for behaving."

"Can I get off my knees now?" She offered a wishful smile, once more wriggling her weight from one knee to the next. He had no doubt on the hard, wooden floor, the position was really starting to take its toll. "Please, sir?"

"Not yet." His hand patted her hot skin gently. "But I will compromise with you." Reaching around her head, he unwound the tie from her hair, releasing the makeshift ponytail that had ensured her head stayed in place. Even he hadn't had to endure that ordeal in captivity, although he had suffered a lot worse. "Is that any better?"

"Yes, thank you." Her head fell forward as she exhaled with relief.

"You can eat on your knees, then we'll talk about releasing you."

A fresh surge of excitement pooled at his dick as he considered her plight. Naked and with no choice but to cede, Ella was like a red-hot fantasy, except she was right there with him, a living and breathing plaything to stimulate his long hours of isolation.

"But how can I eat with my arms bound like this, sir?" Her eyes begged for the release her lips were unwilling to articulate. Even after all he'd put her through, she was still clinging to her pride. Tucker respected her for that.

"I'll feed you." His cock strained to be free from its fabric prison, and he wondered if she'd noticed its urgency. If she had, she wasn't giving anything away.

"You'll feed me?" There was less indignation in her voice than he'd expected. On the contrary, she sounded almost intrigued, although he recognized the trace of resignation. "But why?"

"Because I want to." His thumb stroked the side of her face, and she didn't try to move away from his touch. "Because I want to take care of you, Ella."

"Oh." Water brimmed in her eyes.

"I meant what I said before," he went on. "I will keep you safe, little girl, and if you'll let me, I'll do a whole lot more."

"If I'll let you?" A flicker of defiance flashed in her eyes, but he saw the moment it dwindled.

"Yes," he insisted, refusing to take her bait and tumble into an argument about whether she'd wanted him.

They both knew that she had. Her soaking arousal was a testament to that fact. But going forward, he knew he couldn't win her affection with ropes alone.

She won't love me if she's my prisoner.

The idea that it was her love that he longed for was startling, but deep down, he accepted his premise was true. If his growing feelings were to mean anything more than hot sex, he would have to learn to trust her and let her trust him.

"Let me feed you, little girl."

"Okay." She leaned into his palm with a sigh, her eyes closing, but her knitting brows suggesting her confusion about the sensual act. There was a paradox to their strange dynamic.

She wanted him, but she detested him.

She needed him to free her, yet she loathed the necessity for deference.

Tucker could relate. He, too, was having problems working out his emotions for the younger woman who'd exploded into his life and turned his whole world on its head. He, too, had hated the way his senior officers had pulled rank on him when he'd served.

He understood more than she realized.