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universitypenguin · 6 months

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Summary: Lloyd delays telling Princess about her stalker’s identity. Vivian has a medical appointment, which leads to an episode of babysitting where Lloyd bonds with a three-year-old. Meanwhile, an unexpected event kicks the serial killer investigation into high gear.

Masterlist

Word Count: 6,866

Warnings: Smut, erotica level explicitness, impact play (Lloyd spanks Princess), and semi-rough sex. Criminal activity including stalking, kidnapping, and murder. Mention of child abandonment and dysfunctional family dynamics.

Chapter 22

From your perch on a barstool, you watched Lloyd stir a pot on the stove. He wore a snug pair of boxer briefs and nothing else. You decided this was your favorite look on him. Lloyd glanced over his shoulder and caught you staring. He smirked.

“See something you like, Princess?”

“Mmmhh. You’re like a real life Calvin Klein model, and you’re cooking me dinner.”

Lloyd snorted. “Their current poster boy is what, twenty-one?”

“I don’t know. Calvin Klein models were more of a middle school fantasy for me.”

“Which models, specifically?” he asked.

“The ones featured during the South African World Cup. The internet was plastered with their photos. You don’t remember?”

“Twelve years ago I was in Afghanistan. They don’t allow underwear commercials.”

“Well, I can’t remember his name, but he was a Danish soccer player, who was like three times my age.”

“You were drooling over thirty-six-year-old men when you were twelve?”

“What? He had really great abs.”

Lloyd shook his head, returning his attention to the pot of soup simmering on the stove.

“They were inescapable, and I had a lot of hormones, okay? All those delicious muscles slathered in baby oil was my sexual awakening.”

“Once you hit thirty, you’ll feel more comfortable thinking about sexual awakenings happening around the age of sixteen, or even better, seventeen.”

You laughed. “That’s not reality.”

He flicked off the burner and winked. “Once you eat something, let’s talk about these soccer player fantasies. I want details.”

“Don’t get your hopes up - I wasn’t old enough to fill in the details. Now, my highschool fantasies? Those are worth talking about.”

Lloyd caught you around the waist and pulled you into his lap when you moved to sit down at the dining room table. You giggled when his hands snuck under the hem of the button down dress shirt you wore, exploring the bare skin he found there.

“No panties?”

“Your dress shirt was all I could find. Someone must have stolen my clothes.”

“What a tragedy,” Lloyd murmured, nuzzling your cheek.

You giggled when his mustache tickled your neck. He kissed along your throat and across your jaw and chin, before finding your lips.

“First we eat, then you tell me everything,” he said.

Eating in Lloyd’s lap was surprisingly comfortable. He didn’t insist on feeding you and didn’t mind when you stole the spoon for yourself. After consuming half of the bowl, you handed it back to him and curled against him while he finished the dish. You sighed, content.

“See, this is even better than my fantasies. You can actually cook-”

“This hardly counts, it’s just soup.”

You ignored him, continuing, “-and you have chest hair. I didn’t know there was such a thing as a chest hair kink, but I definitely have one.”

Lloyd groaned as you traced the whorl pattern of hair on his right pectoral.

“Plus, you’re warm.”

“You’ll be all over me this winter, won’t you?” he said.

“Arm candy, bed warmer, and he’s smart? You really are the whole package, aren’t you?”

You stroked a zigzag pattern through the dark brown hairs of his happy trail just above the waistband of his boxers.

“Princess… you’re playing with fire.”

You smirked at his gravelly voice. “No, I’m not. You already turned off the stove.”

He grunted when you straddled him. The position put your breasts at the same height as his mouth. Lloyd nuzzled their upper swells as you sank your finger into his hair, petting the short strands at the back of his neck.

Lloyd unbuttoned your dress shirt and examined your breasts.

“Still sore?”

“They’re definitely tender.”

He rubbed one and you hissed.

“Yeah, that’s going to sting for a while,” he said.

“It’s not a bad sore, just kind of… raw?”

“Well, I did promise you raw nipples, didn’t I?”

“And a sore ass.”

Lloyd glanced up through his lashes. “I’m glad you brought that up, Princess. It reminds me… I only delivered on half of my promise.”

“Huh?”

“I gave you instructions, and you disobeyed me. That warrants punishment, don’t you think?”

“Lloyd, I’ve never let anyone paddle my ass, and if you think-”

He moved too fast for you to protest, manhandling you so you lay chest down, spread over his thighs. Your breasts pressed against his leg and you moaned at the pressure on your aching nipples. Tension coiled in your belly as excitement heightened your sensitivity, making the raw flesh sting.

“Lloyd!”

“Scoot up. I suggest you cooperate because if I don’t spank you, I’m going to have to come up with another punishment. I have a few ideas…”

The butt plug and lube in his nightstand drawer flashed through your head. You scooted forward.

“Good girl, so obedient. I think you want to be punished, don’t you?”

You whimpered at his velvety voice. “Y-yes…”

Lloyd ran a calloused hand over the back of your thighs. “I’ve been thinking of smacking this pretty ass for a long time, Princess.”

That piqued your interest. “How long?”

“Too long,” he said, caressing your bottom.

“The first day you met me?”

“The second day. That pencil skirt, the one that goes past your knees? It’s blue and tight.”

You suddenly regretted donating that skirt last year during a closet declutter, even if it was a size too small.

“On the day you gave me your first research file, that’s what you wore. I still can’t forget how good your ass looked as you walked away. Last chance to back out, Princess.”

You squirmed, but didn’t object.

Lloyd grunted. “Princess, use your words.”

“I don’t think you have the guts to-”

His palm cracked on your left ass cheek. You gasped, stunned by the blow. He slapped the other side with the same force and you cried out. He pinched the fleshy part of your inner thighs between his thumb and forefinger, hard, eliciting a yelp.

“Don’t hold your breath. If you do, you’ll pass out,” Lloyd said.

Then his palm cracked against your skin. The sides alternated: left cheek, right, left, left, right…

“Lloyd!”

You surged up, only to have his forearm shoved into the small of your back, pinning you down.

“Arch your back, Princess. Keep your ass in the air, practice makes perfect.”

“Ow, Lloyd! That hurts!”

“It’s supposed to. You can’t follow instructions, then you pay the price, my naughty… little… fucktoy,” he hissed, punctuating the last three words with a smack.

Your back arched.

“Please! Fucking hell, Lloyd! Damn it, oh!”

You struggled to get enough leverage to escape, but he was too strong.

“Next time you’ll arch your back just like this, won’t you? You’ll be a good girl and keep your chest down and your ass up, huh?”

“Gaaahhh!” you screamed when he peppered a series of blows on a spot that was already aching.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…! Lloyd, please!”

He wasn’t holding back and despite the pain, his spanking was having the strangest effect on your body. It was turning you on. Your protests were born from shock and confusion, because you hadn’t expected this to hurt so much. The pain was the shocking part; the confusing part was that you hadn’t dreamed it would feel so good.

Yet, your toes were curling and your legs stiffened with each stinging swat. Every strike aroused you further. The harsher the sting of his hand, the sweeter the pleasure in your pussy. It was like the sting traveled through you, racing through nerves and transferring the heat of burning slaps on your skin to the inferno deep in your core. Your pussy was throbbing with a fire that was more intense than pain. Then his next blow triggered a cry that had nothing to do with discomfort.

Your thighs flexed and your toes curled as your shriek tapered off into a needy, hungry sound.

“Oh, fuck… Lloyd…”

You whimpered and rocked against his thigh, groaning at the overwhelming rush of pleasure, mingled with pain.

Lloyd cooed. “That’s my girl. Your pussy’s dripping down my leg.”

Your nipples tingled, still raw from their earlier treatment. You were panting and shivering, sweat trickling down your neck. He switched hands, and you squealed at the next barrage of unrelenting slaps. The line between what was pleasure and what was pain ceased to exist. You were acutely aware of the pulsating heat in your nipples and the hardness of Lloyd’s cock pressing against your belly.

The feelings his spanking elicited now were sharp and hot, causing your moans to drop into a lower register as you rocked back to meet each blow. Slowly, he eased into a gentler pace, delivering milder smacks.

Your chest was heaving as darkness danced on the edge of your vision.

“Breathe, Princess.”

You gasped.

“That’s it, good girl.”

His fingers brushed your sex, and you wailed, shuddering at the intensity of the sensation. Your back arched when he stroked your abused skin. The gentle caress made you keen.

Lloyd hauled you upright, turning you so your back pressed against his chest. Without his support you’d have slid to the floor. Your body buzzed with an urgent need and you mewled as he gently palmed your breasts.

You moaned, caught in the grip of a sensation somewhere between pain and immense pleasure.

“There, there, Princess. You’re okay. Next time, what are you going to do? Hmm?”

“Keep… my ass… up,” you sniffed, fighting back tears.

He rubbed the backs of his knuckles against the side of your breasts. “You’ll keep your ass up, and?”

“Chest down,” you whispered.

“That’s a good girl. We’ll try again when your nipples aren’t sore and you can show me what an obedient little fucktoy you are.”

You whined, thighs clenching. Tears were falling and your ass stung but you were so turned on that the pleasure was acutely uncomfortable. Lloyd’s hands drifted from your breasts to roam your body, tracing your waist, belly, and hips. He skimmed your thighs, tugging them apart until you spread them wide, giving him unrestricted access. His fingers dipped into your sex.

“Aw, fucking hell. That pussy’s drenched for me. I knew you’d like your spanking, naughty girls always do.”

He pinched your tender nipple, and you keened, tipping into a state of delirium. Your head fell back against his shoulder as your body went lax. Lloyd murmured something approving, but the words were lost in the buzz of euphoria that echoed in your ears. You couldn’t stop trembling.

Lloyd’s fingers breached your cunt, probing your g-spot.

“Yeah, gush all over my fingers. That’s my Princess, so fucking responsive. You’re spent, but this creamy little pussy just can’t get enough, can it? She’s throbbing. I bet it aches worse than your ass.”

He used his free hand to tease your clit, and you bucked, sobbing from the intense pleasure. You grasped his wrist to ease the friction and Lloyd snarled.

“Cut that out, or I’ll put you over my knee again.”

He spread your pussy open and stroked your entrance, collecting juices and swirling them over your clit.

“Come on my fingers, Princess.”

After issuing the command, he worked your clit hard. Within seconds you jackknifed from a lightning flash of pleasure that almost made you surge out of his arms. Lloyd nipped at your neck and the unexpected sensation made you shudder. His teeth sank into your skin as your body rolled with waves of ecstasy.

When you came down from the high, you felt the hardness under your thigh and squirmed. Lloyd allowed you to slide off his lap but caught your hips to steady you when your knees wobbled. After taking a second to get your bearings, you turned to face Lloyd, then sank to your knees between his legs.

Surprise flickered in his eyes but he lifted his hips, cooperating as you pulled down his boxers. The thick, ruddy cock sprang free, and you grasped it by the base, then licked at its weeping head. Lloyd groaned, shoving himself past your lips in a silent demand. You accepted him eagerly, wiggling your tongue against the underside of his cock.

“Yeah, just like that…”

He guided your head, showing you the tempo he preferred, then let go once you’d adopted the pace.

“Harder,” he murmured, voice rough with arousal.

You hollowed your cheeks and gripped him tighter. He hadn’t tried to push into your throat, which only made you more excited to perform the act. Relaxing your jaw, you inhaled through your nose and took him as deep as you could.

Lloyd gasped. His cock twitched in your throat, and you swallowed reflexively, moaning. When you couldn’t hold the position anymore, you pulled back, gagging. After another deep breath, you braced your hands on his thighs and repeated the maneuver. He was restrained, and that emboldened you to swallow harder, pushing yourself out of your comfort zone. You kept your hands on his thighs out of caution, aware that his good behavior might end at any moment.

The self-protection didn’t prove necessary. Going down on Lloyd was fun. He wasn’t pushy, and he was vocal about his pleasure. The slurred praise he offered when you took him deep made you quiver with excitement. When your jaw needed a break, you ran your tongue over his balls, laving the swollen sac and basking in the rough, male noises that rewarded your efforts.

You chipped in surprise when Lloyd hauled you to your feet. He jerked you onto his lap, cupping your ass while he aligned your bodies. His thick erection grazed your clit. The sensation was so intense that you jerked away. Lloyd growled, hauling you back down.

“Come on, relax for me, Princess. I know you’re desperate to be filled.”

He was right. Sucking him off had triggered a fresh wave of arousal that had fire licking at your core. Lloyd captured one of your battered nipples in his mouth and sucked, purring when you trembled in response. He released it and caressed your hips, then stroked his palms over the tender skin of your buttocks.

“Ready, sweetheart?”

You pressed your forehead against his and whimpered as his cock probed the entrance to your pussy. “Yes… Please, fuck me.”

He thrust up hard, impaling you with a single stroke. You screamed and dug your nails into his shoulders.

“Ah, fuck! Lloyd!”

“Shh… relax. Let me in. I know, I know. This is a new angle for you, isn’t it?”

He felt huge like this. The girth was too intense and you scrambled to adjust, hooking your ankles over his knees and raising your hips. Lloyd kneaded your ass, causing a rush of pleasure and pain that flooded your pussy with juices and allowed you to sink down a little further.

You groaned, thighs quivering as you struggled to hold yourself up. You were afraid your legs would give out, and you’d be impaled again. Lloyd claimed your mouth and kissed you. HIs mouth was slow and sensual and coaxed you into relaxing. You rolled your hips and whimpered when he slid deep, brushing a spot that made you quiver. He grasped your hips and pushed them back, then drew them forward.

You gasped at the sensation.

Lloyd paused. “Too deep?”

“N-n-no… Oh, fuck…”

You squirmed and tried to mimic the maneuver. Lloyd moaned.

“Atta girl, baby. Get yourself off on my cock.”

Your hips snapped harder at his encouragement. When he sucked delicately on one of your nipples, you keened. You lost your rhythm, but it didn’t matter because Lloyd took control. He used your body’s weight to guide your hips in quick tempo, rooting himself as deep as possible with every stroke. Your legs shook violently and when the orgasm hit, you screamed, unraveling into sobs of overwhelmed pleasure.

Lloyd took advantage of the deep angle. The ripples of your channel seemed to aim his cock right at the sweet spot that made you quiver and turned your muscles to Jell-O. His thrusts became rougher and harder, and your pussy creamed. You cried, disoriented, helpless against the unrestrained response of your body. All you could do was hang on and shudder as your eyes rolled back in your head and Lloyd’s hands guided your hips through the last of the orgasm.

He hissed your name and his seed flooded your womb, triggering another orgasm that wracked your exhausted muscles. After the final burst of ecstasy, your head fell into the crook of Lloyd’s neck and he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tight.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lloyd broke from his usual routine and silenced his alarm at 4 a.m.

He nestled against you, grateful that you were sleeping deeply, and therefore accepting of his intrusion into your side of the bed. When you were half-awake and still trying to cling to sleep you were very territorial about your personal space. He relished the victory of getting to hold you like this and pressed his forehead against the back of your neck. You slept soundly in these early hours, which sometimes allowed him to indulge in the affection he craved without disturbing you. Although he’d only intended to cuddle, he succumbed to sleep within minutes.

The buzzing of his phone woke him. Scowling at the time - it was just after six - he answered the unknown number.

“What do you want?”

“Hello, Lloyd.”

Lloyd’s nostrils flared. “Why are you calling me?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“We aren’t friends.”

“Fair point. Wait, don’t hang up. I have a new lead,” Court Gentry said.

Lloyd hesitated, his finger over the end call button.

“Go on.”

“The spy is trying to access files from B&H’s patent department. If they do, it’ll pose a threat to national security - a significant threat.”

“Then call Clayton Bishop, or the FBI - anyone but me,” Lloyd replied.

“Trust me, if I could, I would. You’re the only person I’m sure isn’t involved. The latest efforts to access the files prove this guy has hacking skills. He’s trying to exploit weaknesses in your cyber security and someone’s helping him. I know something is going down this week. I need your help.”

“No. I’m not a spy. Don’t call me again.”

Lloyd tossed the phone on the nightstand and sighed. The Chinese spy wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t even Court’s problem, but Gentry wasn’t the type to keep his nose out of other people’s business.

You murmured and rustled in the blankets, stealing the covers he’d loosened his grip on. Lloyd watched as you coiled yourself into a cocoon of blankets and wondered how you didn’t smother yourself by sleeping like that. His phone buzzed again. The sound made your lashes flutter and Lloyd rubbed your back. He was inordinately pleased when you settled immediately, your breathing evening out again.

Lloyd silenced the phone and checked his text messages.

There were three new messages, all from Jake. One had just arrived. The other two had come in around 5 a.m.

Hey. I need to upgrade the security on your guys laptops - work and personal. The stalker’s been trying to hack them. It’s mainly Princess’ work computer, but I want to cover all the bases just in case.

What time can I come over?

Lloyd? R u awake?

He responded, letting Jake know he could come over after eight, then went downstairs to make coffee.

Between the call from Court and Jake’s texts, the morning had gone sour. His anxiety was flaring back up and he was halfway through his first cup of coffee when it occurred to him that caffeine probably wasn’t the greatest idea right now. He poured the rest of his coffee down the sink and rubbed his jaw, wondering what problem to tackle first. There was the matter of telling you about Nguyen, reviewing your notes from the interview with Aliyah, catching up with Jake about the attacks on your laptops, and… Lloyd frowned.

The conversation with Court was still echoing in his head. Could the cyber attacks on your work computer have something to do with Nguyen? Did that fit the stalker’s profile? Aiden might be behind the latest attack. That would make sense… kind of.

Lloyd leaned against the counter, scowling, and wishing he hadn’t thrown the last of his coffee down the drain. Maybe Nguyen was the serial killer. Bishop still believed he was, and while Lloyd wasn’t keen on his boss’ blind faith in that theory, he suddenly wanted to take another look at Nguyen. His gut said that he’d missed something - something critical.

“Do I smell coffee?”

He turned to see you standing at the foot of the stairs, wearing his robe.

“Yeah, creamer’s in the fridge.”

Lloyd waited while you doctored your coffee and took a few sips. He’d figured out what he needed to say, but instead, he grabbed the files Landon had given him yesterday.

“Princess. We need to talk about your stalker.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You sat at the dining table, reading the files. Each one was labeled with a name: Georgina Rochester, Aiden LeDoux, Shun Nguyen, and finally, Juan Medina.

Picking up Juan’s file, you frowned.

“What’s this?”

Lloyd cleared his throat. “We investigated all potential suspects we could think of.”

“Really? Investigating Juan would’ve involved talking to me. That never happened.”

“Given the circumstances, I can’t expect you to be impartial.”

Your gaze sharpened. “I’ve known Juan for a decade.”

“Princess, you’re too close to him to see him as a threat, and you know it.”

“And maybe you’re too far removed to see that he’s harmless. Everything in here is technically true - Juan got into bar fights and took anger management classes - but there’s more to the story.”

“Then explain it.”

“Juan’s little brother just turned twenty-one. He’s always had a bad temper and alcohol exacerbates it. Juan’s tried to keep him out of trouble but-”

“There’s no arrest record for the brother,” Lloyd interrupted.

“Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Juan is the complete opposite of his brother and he’d never do anything to harm his family.”

“He’s been charged with multiple misdemeanors.”

“Two nights in jail hardly makes him a hardened criminal.”

“Princess, you’re one of the most loyal people I know. You’d defend someone you love even if they were guilty.”

“Maybe I would, but the idea that Juan would hurt me is ridiculous. He’s not angry or dangerous.”

“We can’t afford to dismiss any leads,” Lloyd said.

“But this lead isn’t significant. You should’ve discussed this with me.”

“I didn’t want to put you in a position where you had to defend him.”

“The impression you get of Juan from this file is totally wrong and knowing the backstory changes everything. Letting me explain would’ve saved time and resources.”

“No, it wouldn’t have. We’re running down every lead in this case - especially after what happened two weeks ago. I’m not risking your safety on a blind spot.”

“You’re not listening to me. I know Juan and I trust him. I’m absolutely sure he isn’t the stalker.”

“I don’t even trust myself to be objective right now, Princess. Neither of us should try to unravel the stalker’s identity. If Juan made the suspect list, he’s on it until Landon decides he isn’t.”

“Then I need to talk to Landon because investigating Juan is a waste of time.”

“I’m sorry this makes you uncomfortable, but we should turn over every stone.”

“You’re being unreasonable on purpose, aren’t you?”

Lloyd’s expression softened. “I’m sorry I waited to tell you about this, but please, leave the investigating to Landon. He’ll figure it out. If Juan is as squeaky clean as you think, it won’t take long.”

You sighed, rubbing your neck. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fly off the handle. I’m just…”

Suddenly, you were on the verge of tears. Your voice cracked when you tried to speak and you buried your face in your hands.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

Lloyd stood up and moved around the table. His arms wrapped around you as he let you bury your head in his chest.

“I’m here, Princess. Everything’s going to be okay. We’ll get through this and things will go back to normal. You’re safe.”

“How can I be safe if Nguyen is in the country?”

Lloyd squeezed you. “I won’t let you out of my sight. Also, Jake’s coming over to update the security systems on the house and our computers. We’re taking every precaution and then some, okay?”

You pulled back and looked up at him, lips compressing in a grimace.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about something… Vivian has an appointment with her obstetrician. She asked me if I could watch the kids this afternoon.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Lloyd said.

“I agree, but she needs my help. If you came with me, you could search for evidence on Juan. Think of how much time that would save Landon. Can we take evasive measures and sneak over, or is it totally out of the question?”

He hesitated. “It might not be safe.”

“The last thing I want to do is put Vivian’s family at risk, but if there’s a way to make it happen…”

“Have you discussed this with Vivian?” Lloyd asked.

“I can talk to her.”

“Explain the situation and if she’s okay with it, I’ll figure something out. Just don’t say anything about Juan, please.”

You kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lloyd sat at Juan Medina’s desk in the upstairs master bedroom, preoccupied with Juan’s laptop. He kept an ear out for sounds that would warn him of an approaching toddler or the jangle of tags from the family dog, Chewy. The tan and white Cavalier King Charles spaniel had taken an instant dislike to Lloyd at first sniff, which he considered to be very insightful on the canine’s part.

The house was fairly quiet. The only sounds from downstairs were of you cleaning. He could hear the rumble of the washing machine, along with the frequent buzz of the dryer and the dishwasher. Your efficiency was unrivaled. He’d listened to the sound of you tackling a mountain of household chores while keeping the smaller toddler - the boy, Sam - occupied. Meanwhile, the three-year-old, Alyssa, had escaped to the backyard. From the window over the desk, he could see her playing in the yard.

His thorough search of Juan Medina’s laptop had yielded nothing of value. The man’s internet search history was full of hockey, nerdy online card games, and researching which fantasy novels he wanted to buy next. Judging by the bookcase, your brother-in-law’s primary hobby was reading. His offline commitments included a weekly Dungeons & Dragons meetup at the library, helping his mother with yard work, and taking the kids on monthly field trips with a local father’s group. Juan was probably pretty normal by regular standards, but to Lloyd he was the most boring person on earth. He was also envious of the man and that drove him nuts because he couldn’t pin down a reason why he felt that way.

Lloyd brushed off the feeling and closed Juan’s laptop.

Downstairs, the transformation in the family room startled him. The clutter of kid’s toys, piles of books, jackets, blankets, and empty drinking glasses had vanished. He barely recognized the room. In the kitchen, the countertops gleamed. You’d swept and mopped the floor and conquered the overflowing pile of dishes. The family room, the kitchen, the living room, it was all spotless. Even the sliding glass doors that had been covered in Chewy’s nose prints was now clean.

He noticed the basket of folded laundry by the couch and shook his head. How had you managed all this in just a few hours?

Lloyd walked out onto the deck where Sam was playing with a toy tractor. The little boy was so absorbed in his own world that he didn’t spare the man a glance when he walked by. Lloyd headed down the steps to the yard and headed to where you were crouched in the middle of the yard, looking frustrated.

“What are you doing?” Lloyd asked.

“I’m trying to fix this sprinkler head. Juan left Vivian a note to have Dad take a look, so I read a how-to article, which made it seem easy enough. I think I was lied to.”

Lloyd squatted down. “What step are you on?”

“Taking off the sprinkler head. I’m afraid if I use any more force it’ll break.”

“Do you have a screwdriver with a longer handle? You need more torque.”

You gestured to the tool box beside you. “Take your pick.”

He found the right tool and loosened the troublesome screw. Once it was free, you took over.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it.”

After knowing you for three years, he recognized the look on your face and easily handed over the sprinkler head. It was better to just get out of the way when you were on a mission. Besides, he wasn’t about to get grass stains on his freshly dry cleaned Tom Ford chinos if it wasn’t necessary. He scanned the yard, taking in Sam playing on the deck and then turning to the rock pile where Alyssa seemed to be digging a hole to China.

“What’s your niece doing?” Lloyd asked.

“Digging up rocks. Don’t ask me why, because there’s a perfectly good sandbox on top of the hill. She’s always in that rock pile.”

He left you to the sprinkler repairs and headed toward the rock pile. When he saw who was approaching, Chewy, the cocker spaniel, positioned himself between Alyssa and Lloyd. He gave the suspicious dog plenty of space and crouched down on the other side of the rock pile, leaving a large space between them to appease the dog.

“Hey, Alyssa.”

The three-year-old glanced at him, then stabbed her yellow plastic shovel into the dirt. There was a pile of stones next to her right foot. Lloyd watched as she sorted them, examining each before keeping it or tossing it back into the pit. He spotted one he recognized in front of him and picked it up.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked Alyssa.

She stopped digging and examined the rock he held out for a moment before shaking her head.

“See how smooth it is?” Lloyd scraped his thumb over the surface. “When you can scratch a rock with just your fingernail, that means it’s soft. The color and shape are also big clues.”

The little girl looked at him expectantly.

“It’s slate,” Lloyd said.

She held her hand out, and Lloyd dropped it into her palm. He watched as she searched her red bucket and then handed him two more rocks. Lloyd examined them.

“Yeah, these are slate, too.”

Alyssa dug into the bucket again. She paused, as if something had just occurred to her, and extended her hand and wiggled her fingers at him. He passed back the two pieces of slate she’d given him, and the one he’d picked up. She placed them carefully into the red bucket before offering him another rock.

Lloyd studied the specimen, hiding his grin. When he realized what she’d handed him he raised an eyebrow.

“This is agate. Sometimes people make jewelry out of these.”

Alyssa continued to pass him different rocks, though she only allowed him to handle one at a time. She was like a strict librarian who only allowed single book check outs and enforced the return policy with the zeal of a Mutaween. He identified limestone, quartzite, agates, and several pieces of granite for her.

“Which ones are your favorite?” Lloyd asked.

She reached under a dense fern and pulled out an old Folgers coffee container. It surprised him when she took off the lid and handed it over. Lloyd inspected the contents. There was a chip of Mica, easily identifiable by its flakey structure and pearlescent shine. Several of the greenish rocks looked like Sandstone, though one of them had the striations characteristic of Gneiss. Looking at the collection, he realized that Alyssa’s criteria for special rocks focused on color and shininess. At the bottom there was a gray rock with a dusting that looked like blue powder.

He rubbed it with his thumb and inspected it in the light. Chrysocolla or Amazonite?

“This is an impressive collection,” he said.

Alyssa reached under the fern and dug around, searching for something and brushed it off before passing it to him. At first he thought it was just a piece of limestone, but when he flipped it over, there was a clear impression on the other side.

“Wow. This is a cool fossil.”

It looked like a prehistoric crustacean, with lots of ridges and segments in the stone that showed the shape and structure of the animal’s body.

“Is this why you’re digging over here?” Lloyd asked.

The plastic yellow shovel she was using made sense, considering the fossil. He handed it back and watched as she packed the rocks into the Folgers container.

“Why don’t you pick a few rocks to take inside? You could display them on your windowsill or something,” Lloyd said.

Her lips pursed as she considered him, then glanced over her shoulder at you. Lloyd followed her gaze to where you were filling in the hole around the sprinkler head.

“Hey, Princess. Have you seen the fossil Alyssa found?”

At his announcement, Alyssa hissed, shoving the red plastic container underneath the fern. She glared furiously at Lloyd and grabbed the spaniel’s collar. He watched as she stalked across the yard to the deck, dragging Chewy along with her. Lloyd realized he’d committed a betrayal of great magnitude but wasn’t sure how.

When you’d finished with the sprinkler system, he asked.

“Why is Alyssa so protective of her rocks?”

“What rocks?”

“She collects rocks. She’s got a good eye for it too, but I guess she doesn’t like sharing them.”

“Oh, you mean the rocks she smuggles into her bedroom? We try to keep them in the yard because she stashes them in her bookcase and it gets all muddy. Vivian tosses them back in the rock pile when she finds them.”

“That must be frustrating,” Lloyd said.

“Yeah, Vivian can hardly keep up with it.”

“No, I mean that she’s finding interesting stuff. You should have them tumbled. One of her rocks is probably Amazonite or Chrysocolla and she has a really cool fossil, too.��

You stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. She knows what she’s looking for. I think it’s the colors in the rocks that attracts her attention. Blues and reds seem to be her favorite. Does she have any books on rocks?”

“No, she can’t read yet.”

“They have picture books,” Lloyd said.

“Huh. That’d be a great Christmas gift. Do you think I should re-seed the lawn?”

“What?”

“It might be too early, and I don’t know if Juan is planning on aerating,” you mused.

“You already did the dishes, the laundry, cleaned the house, and fixed the sprinklers.”

“Oh, crap! I forgot about the dryer. Sam! Come inside, it’s getting late!”

Sam launched a valiant protest when you tried to herd him inside. You tended to the toddler’s outburst while Lloyd went to find Alyssa. She was upstairs in her room. Chewy was curled into a ball on her bed and when he saw Lloyd, the fluffy spaniel growled. Lloyd stopped short, respecting the warning, and leaned against the doorjamb.

“If you pick out some rocks from your bookcase, I’ll help you polish them,” Lloyd offered.

Thirty minutes later you walked into the kitchen to find Alyssa standing on a stool next to Lloyd at the sink. A paper towel full of wet rocks sat next to a pile of used sandpaper.

“What are you two up to?” you asked.

“We’re polishing Alyssa’s rocks. Look at this one, it’s a carnelian.”

You examined the bright red stone and smiled at your niece.

“That’s beautiful.”

She looked down, shrugging, but smiled. Lloyd picked up another one.

“This is a blue lace agate.”

After he showed it to you, he handed it back to Alyssa, who snuck it into her pocket instead of laying it on the paper towel.

“Did you find these in the backyard?” you asked her.

She didn’t respond, so Lloyd answered for her.

“I think she might have, but I’m not sure. There’s enough variety here that I think she collected some of them from other places.”

“You should put them on display in your room. Your Mom will be home soon and she’d like to see them - especially now that they’re clean.”

Alyssa beamed. “Mine.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The quiet hum of the Mercedes’ engine filled the car as you drove west towards the cabin. Lloyd glanced over and you sensed his scrutiny.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” you said, breaking the silence. “Is something on your mind?”

He turned his attention back to the road, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Tonight, at your sister’s place…”

“You really hit it off with Alyssa. I was impressed.”

“She’s a sweet kid, but I was actually wondering about all the housework. You did everything from the laundry to fixing the sprinklers. If your sister had hired a whole cleaning crew, they wouldn’t have done as much as you did.”

You sighed. “Vivian is juggling a lot right now. I was just lending a hand.”

“It’s not just tonight, though. You’ve always helped her out, even before, when you were in college. I’ve never seen her do the same for you, especially not to this extent.”

“She’s my sister, and she needed help. Besides, you never complain when I do things for you.”

“I pay you to help me,” Lloyd pointed out. “She didn’t even say thank you.”

You chuckled. “That’s just what having a sister is like.”

“Well, from my perspective, it seems like she’s taking advantage of you.”

“Lloyd, I can’t explain this to you.”

“What’s to explain?” he growled.

“I’m the oldest, it’s different. You wouldn’t understand, you’re an only child.”

Silence fell and again, the gentle hum of the engine filled the car.

“Actually, I’m not.”

“What?” you stared at him.

“I have two younger sisters.”

“You never mentioned… Lloyd, I didn’t realize… the articles about you never said...”

“I haven’t seen them in thirty years.”

“Why?”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. You watched his shoulders rise and fall on a deep breath.

“My mother left when I was eleven. She took my sisters, but left me.”

“She abandoned you…? And left you with your father?”

“Yeah.”

“Lloyd, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“Did you ever reach out to them?”

“No.”

You frowned. “Why not?”

“I wasn’t even sure they were alive until recently. I doubt they’d want to hear from me. They’ve built lives of their own. What would contacting them do except stir up bad memories? If they can forget… that would be better.”

Better for who? You held back the question, unsure if he was ready to answer it.

Lloyd sighed. “I don’t know if they’d want to see me and talking about them isn’t easy. That’s why I’ve never mentioned them before.”

His face was stony but there was a quiet ache in his voice that hinted at the hurt hidden behind the composed mask.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For assuming. For not asking you about your family.”

He shrugged. “Who could blame you? Sharing isn’t exactly in my nature.”

You turned away, gazing out the window. You tried to imagine having your siblings ripped away but couldn’t manage it. What was wrong with Lloyd’s mother? How could she have done such a terrible thing? There were reasons, of course - desperation, fear, psychosis. None of those answers softened the anger you felt toward the faceless woman who’d snatched Lloyd’s siblings. Why would she leave him behind, sentencing him to live with the man she’d chosen to flee?

“You’re wondering why she took them and left me, aren’t you?” Lloyd asked.

“I can’t imagine what kind of a mother would do something like that. It’s awful.”

“She was crazy. That’s a solid reason, but if you ask me, it’s because I looked like him.”

You were confused. “Him?”

“My father.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The cabin’s porch light glowed in a cozy welcome as Lloyd turned into the driveway. You pretended to look out the window to hide the tears in your eyes.

Lloyd’s childhood couldn’t have been easy. You’d known that already, but what he’d revealed tonight was crueler than your imaginings. He parked and shut off the engine, silencing the quiet hum.

The shrill scream of his phone pierced the quiet, making you jump. He frowned at the caller I.D.

“It’s Roth.”

You watched as he answered and lines of concern creased his face. The words on the other end of the line were muffled but the furrow between Lloyd’s brows suggested the news wasn’t good. He listened for a long time before he spoke.

“Alright. We’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“What’s going on?”

“There’s been a disappearance. Another woman was abducted in Harmony.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Next - Chapter XXIII

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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universitypenguin · 7 months

Text

Chapter XXI

Summary: Lloyd is disturbed when Princess has another close call. He struggles with his feelings before having an epiphany about their relationship.

Word Count: 6,839

Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ readers only. Smut, erotica level explicitness, use of nipple clamps, allusions of impact play (Lloyd threatens to spank Princess), semi-rough sex. Criminal elements including stalking, domestic violence, and murder. Major health scare requiring an emergency room visit.

Chapter XXII

You stepped out of the police station and into blinding sunlight. The moment the sun hit your eyes it felt like a thousand needles being stabbed in your retinas. You dug in your purse for a pair of sunglasses. The gradient style lenses weren’t dark enough to provide sufficient shade, so you shielded them with your hand as you scanned the parking lot. Refracted light from Jake’s glossy white Toyota 4Runner hurt your eyes, even though it was idling in the shade, under the porte-cochère.

You climbed in, hoping the vehicle’s dark windows would block the sun. Instead, the reflection off the hood was so bright that your eyes watered. With a hiss, you flipped the visor down.

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Rough day?”

“Not really, we had a great interview with Aliyah this morning, but I started getting a headache after lunch. My eyes are killing me.”

“Do you want to stop by the pharmacy?”

“I’d kill for some ibuprofen.”

In CVS, the pain relief aisle was completely stocked with everything - except ibuprofen.

Jake peered over your shoulder. “Should we try another store?”

“No. I’ll just grab something else.”

You picked up a box of Excedrin that proclaimed itself ‘extra-strength’ and flipped it over to study the label.

“What are you looking for?” Jake asked.

“I don’t know. My mother hates this stuff, she always takes ibuprofen.”

On the walk back to the car you swallowed two tablets and found that you were grateful for Jake’s presence. Since the incident in his backyard Lloyd had decided it was too risky for you to be alone anywhere that wasn’t secure. Outside of his cabin, the only places that met his security standards were the police station in Harmony and his office at Bishop & Howard. Lloyd had taken to dropping you off at the station in the mornings. In the afternoons one of the guys would drive you back to the office and deliver you directly to Lloyd’s office.

You’d agreed to the arrangement without hesitation because it was the logical, prudent course of action. Even so, you couldn’t help resenting that your freedom had been so harshly curtailed. The stalker had made you dependent on others in a way you’d never experienced before and hoped to never experience again. The rotation of bodyguards driving you back and forth between the police station and the office made you feel like a child caught in the middle of a complicated custody dispute.

Jake glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Maybe we should stop by the emergency room,” he said. “You had a concussion recently and-”

“No. I’m fine. This is just a tension headache.”

You adjusted your sunglasses and tried to blink away the spots that danced in front of your eyes. Jake was still trying to persuade you to go to the ER when your throat started to ache, and then the ache became an itch. The itch spread slowly, like a persistent whisper of discomfort until you coughed and wheezed.

Your lips started tingling.

“Jake? I think… maybe we should go to the hospital.”

- - -

Six minutes later, you crossed the threshold of the Forest View Hospital emergency room. You were leaning heavily on Jake and choking on air instead of inhaling it. Your airway had constricted to a terrifyingly narrow passage that seemed to contract even further with each passing second. One look at you and the triage nurse was out of her chair. She guided you to a wheelchair while quizzing Jake about peanuts and shellfish… there was more, but your ears were ringing and you didn’t catch the rest.

A second later, a man in a white coat shoved a needle in your thigh. The injection stung, but the relief was so intense you could’ve kissed him. As the medicine coursed through your veins the feeling of suffocation gradually eased. The man in the white coat took a stethoscope and listened to your breathing.

“Not too bad,” he announced. “But we’ll need to keep you in observation for a while. I administered epinephrine to counter your allergic reaction. Can you tell me about any food or drugs you’ve consumed in the past few hours?”

You were still catching your breath, so Jake stepped forward. “She took an Excedrin about twenty minutes ago.”

Navy blue embroidery on the breast pocket of his white coat proclaimed the man as: Kennedy Knox, M.D., MSc; under his name were the words ‘Family Medicine.’ His nose was slightly crooked and he’d chosen a daring color for his footwear - the neon purple running shoes clashed with his burgundy scrubs.

Jake’s phone rang and he stepped around the curtain to answer it.

Dr. Knox noticed you were shivering and brought you a warm blanket from a glass cabinet before sitting down to take your medical history. Your voice was scratchy, but you managed to answer.

He finished typing and clicked back through his note, scanning the text. “It seems like you might have a sensitivity to aspirin. You said your mother avoids it?”

“She only uses ibuprofen and tylenol,” you confirmed.

“I’m almost certain anaphylaxis was triggered by aspirin, but until you can be tested by an allergist, avoid NSAIDs altogether. I’ll write you a referral.”

He typed another few lines into your chart.

“I see that you suffered a concussion last week?” Dr. Knox said.

“Yeah, I hit my head after getting out of the pool.”

“The Excedrin was for a headache… have you had problems with them since the injury?”

“Just today. The light started bothering me after lunch. By the time I got off work, it was a full-blown tension headache.”

Dr. Knox nodded. “Post-concussive headaches can feel a lot like tension headaches.”

He asked a few more questions and did a palpitation of your neck before picking up his prescription pad.

“Here, you can fill this at any pharmacy in the area…”

Sloppy handwriting on the note read: Pick up some very, very dark sunglasses, ASAP!

You giggled.

Knox winked.

“Doctor’s orders. They’re a must-have accessory for any fashionable concussion survivor. Think of it like wearing a scarf in Alaska.”

“I can get behind a prescription like this,” you said.

He chuckled. “Take care, and remember - no more Excedrin, no aspirin, and always read medications labels from now on.”

After signing the discharge papers you made your way down the hall. Your knees were still shaky but you could breathe. You continued until the sterile hospital atmosphere gave way to the softer, earth-toned decor of the waiting room.

Jake was standing beside Lloyd.

When your gaze clashed with Lloyd’s you almost stopped short. He looked furious, but then you noticed the wrinkle in his chin, a feature that only appeared when he was concerned. His pale eyes were like flint. You crossed to them and he opened his arms, enveloping you in a tight embrace. The weight of his hand smoothing down your back lulled you into relaxation and you wrapped your arms around his neck and laid your head on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Turns out I might be allergic to Aspirin.”

Lloyd sighed and squeezed your waist. His next words were directed to Jake.

“Thank you for taking care of her.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You were so exhausted that you didn’t bother listening to the rest of their conversation. It only lasted a minute or so. The whole time, Lloyd’s arms were snug around your waist and the warmth of his body seeped into yours, helping ease the residual shakiness from the epinephrine. Soon, Jake’s footsteps faded away, but Lloyd’s hold on you still didn’t relax. His hand kept stroking up and down your back. You yawned.

“Let’s get you home,” Lloyd murmured.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He was anxious. It was an unusual condition for Lloyd, so the emotion struck him like a foreign disease, a pathogen that his immune system hadn’t been exposed to enough to mount an effective defense against. His skin prickled with hyper-awareness, his shoulder muscles were rigid and tension had gnawed a hole in the pit of his stomach.

You were asleep. He’d loaned you his jacket and you’d nestled into the makeshift pillow and nodded off just a few minutes into the drive. Lloyd snuck a glance at you, his lips compressing into a scowl. This was the second time in the space of ten days that he’d nearly lost you. His fingers clenched on the steering wheel. Wasn’t having a stalker enough? Did you need to have a life-threatening undiagnosed allergy, too?

When he pulled up to the cabin the sun was setting. You didn’t stir when he unbuckled you, so he rounded the vehicle and lifted you into his arms. Navigating the security system keypad and undoing the multiple locks on the front door with you in his arms was challenging, but he managed. By some miracle, your breathing was still deep and even when he laid you on the bed. He removed your shoes, covered you with a throw blanket and settled into the armchair by the window.

Anxiety continued to simmer in his blood. Lloyd did the breathing exercises Dr. Blair had taught him and stared out the window. He wished Nguyen would show his face. There was only one thing that would ease his mind, and it wasn’t breathing exercises.

Lloyd allowed his thoughts to turn toward violent imaginations. A normal person would’ve been horrified by the what ran through his head, but to him cruelty was the height of banality. It was something he’d been born into, a force that shaped his childhood, and then patterned his future. Violent ideas circulated in his mind without sparking the slightest flicker of emotional distress. Accountants had more passion for cash flow strategy than Lloyd did for his plans to end Shun Nguyen’s life.

It wasn’t long before his thoughts turned to more pressing issues.

He had to tell you that Nguyen was your stalker. It was his responsibility. Telling you was necessary and keeping the truth from you was wrong - he understood that very clearly. Lloyd’s teeth ground as he anticipated the impending conversation and wondered why it made him feel so awful. When had he become such a coward? As friends your communication had been seamless, but now that he was your lover, things had shifted.

You weren’t expressing yourself as freely. When you’d just been friends, you’d expressed your thoughts without hesitation, but over the past couple months, that had faded. Lloyd frowned. Why? What had prompted the breakdown in communication?

A soft groan from the bed interrupted his ponderings. You sighed, stretching, then squinted into the darkness.

“Lloyd? What time is it?”

“Just after seven-thirty.”

He crossed to the bed and sat down beside you, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“Did you sleep well?”

You adjusted the pillow. “Mmhmm.”

The words to begin the necessary conversation were right on the tip of his tongue, but then your arms curled around his neck. Lloyd was drawn into your arms and at the press of your lips, all his carefully organized thoughts scattered. His hands framed your face, thumbs sliding under your jaw to tilt your chin up. The kiss started out light, a brushing of lips, and steadily increased in pressure. When he pulled away, your eyes were dilated and you were both breathing raggedly.

“I’ve missed doing that,” you murmured, touching your swollen lips.

Lloyd groaned and kissed you deeply, enjoying your enthusiastic response. He gripped the back of your neck and held you still for a long, tender kiss, sliding his tongue against yours, then flicking and teasing, until he was rewarded by a delicate whimper of need. You gripped his shoulders and he sighed, contentment banishing the anxiety that had been riding him for the past few hours.

You mumbled something against his lips that he didn’t quite catch, but the demanding tone was clear enough. He slid his hands down from your face and gripped your waist, rubbing and squeezing at your hips in a gentle massage before moving to cradle your breasts. The distinct texture of lace was palpable through your thin blouse. He could tell it was an unlined bra by the way your puckered nipple stabbed into his palm.

You shivered and arched against his hand as you tugged him closer. Lloyd swept his thumbs over your nipples and was rewarded with a breathy moan and a delicious tremor. He groaned and allowed you to pull him down to the bed and rolled so that he was on top, straddling your hips.

His mouth never left yours. The kisses were hungry and charged with desperate need. When you began clawing at the buttons on his shirt, he undid them. Your hand sank into his chest hair, fingers twining into the sparse dusting with a purr of delight. Meanwhile, he found the fastening of your skirt, unclipped it and peeled down the zipper to access the hem of your blouse and yank it over your head.

When he saw the lacy purple bra with the front closure, he growled. You reached for the clasp but he batted your hand away.

“No.”

Your protest was silenced with a kiss and when you tried for the clasp again, he caught your wrists and raised them above your head. You whined in protest when he pinned you down, but the complaint was cut off when his tongue shoved into your mouth. He teased you with a series of thrusts and parries that elicited a soft chorus of whimpers and cries for him to enjoy before he shifted to a one handed grip on your wrists and slid his fingers under the lacy bra cups and stroked your taunt nipples.

“Oooohhh…”

Lloyd smirked. “Sensitive, Princess?”

He could feel your heartbeat hammering against your ribs. You moaned and arched when he scissored his fingers to pinch your nipple with his index and middle finger, squeezing until you gasped. Lloyd crushed his lips to yours as you undulated against him. He kissed you long and hard until you turned your head, breaking the kiss.

“Please, Lloyd, please…”

“You like it fast, don’t you, baby?”

You whined, struggling against his restraining grip. “Please…”

Lloyd chuckled. “If I let you go, you’ll start trying to undress me.”

Your pupils were blown wide and your lips were swollen from his rough kisses. Lloyd brushed his mouth lightly over yours. His smirk widened when you shuddered.

“Fuck me,” you whispered, breathless.

“Princess…” the hunger in your voice broke his self-control.

He released your wrists and unbuckled his belt. You squirmed underneath him, wiggling out of your skirt. By the time he’d gotten rid of his pants you were rolling down your thigh high stockings.

Lloyd hissed. “No, leave them on. Take off your panties unless you want me to rip them off.”

You obeyed and the second your panties were off, Lloyd moved between your legs, pressing himself against you, separated only by the thin barrier of his boxers. He felt your wetness seep through the silk and groaned.

“More, Lloyd. I need…”

He unfastened your bra and pushed it open, tweaking a pert nipple and squeezing the other breast. Your eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering as he bent to suckle at your tit. When you thrashed under him, he used his weight to hold you down as he tended to your breast. When you screamed in frustration he nipped your skin and ground his erection into your core. He could feel the scorching heat and his dick twitched, anticipating how good you’d feel wrapped around him.

“I need you inside me,” you pleaded.

“Yeah? How bad, Princess? Does it ache? Are you throbbing for me?”

You tossed your head back, making a noise that was part scream, part wail, and gyrated against him, trying to find relief.

“Someone’s naughty tonight, aren’t they? You know I’m the one who sets the pace in the bedroom, Princess. We need to work on your patience.”

You snarled, a startlingly realistic sound. Lloyd laughed and nuzzled your breasts, kissing each nipple, satisfying himself with a final suckle on each of the puckered little buds. They were still wet from his saliva but he continued to take his time and draw out your torment, enjoying the way you writhed and begged for more in disjointed, nearly unintelligible sentences.

“Fucking hell, baby. Your breasts are sensitive, aren’t they? Your pussy is gushing, you’re getting my nice silk boxers all sticky.”

You moaned, the sound faint, but raw. He recognized the pitch and knew you were getting close.

“I bet you could come just from this,” Lloyd mused, tracing the delicate tip of your breast with his tongue.

“Lloyd! Fuck, damn it…” you squirmed and fought his restraining grip.

He countered your struggles by shifting his weight to put more pressure on your hips, immobilizing you completely.

“You’re in a naughty mood tonight, Princess. I bet that aching pussy’s to blame. Ten minutes of me working on your nipples and you’re acting like an entitled brat. Let’s see what state you’re in after twenty…”

“I want you inside of me, please, please…!”

His cock thickened at your desperate cry. “You want my dick, baby?”

“Fuck me, Lloyd. I need you so bad.”

He moved his hand down to your center and stroked the delicate skin of your inner thighs, making you shiver.

“Hmmm… your thighs aren’t trembling yet. I love it when they do that. What if I gave you my fingers, Princess?”

Lloyd released your wrists and eased back, this time using both hands to caress your thighs. You keened when he ghosted his thumbs over the outer lips of your pussy and slipped them inside to spread you open, exposing your sex to his gaze.

“Let’s try that before I give you my dick, yeah? A nice round of fingering to get you warmed up?”

“I’m… warmed… up… damn it!” you were panting as he teased your clit.

He didn’t touch it directly, but took advantage of knowing the underside of your clit was your most sensitive area and stroked the vulnerable spot.

“I can see that, Princess. Your clit’s nice and puffy from grinding on my boxers, getting ‘em all messy with your pussy juice.”

He slid down to lay flat on the mattress and lowered his head to your core. For a moment, he just breathed on your clit and watched you tremble in excitement. Lloyd licked his lips, imagining the sharp flavor of you, tart and tangy on his tongue. You were sobbing, asking him to fuck you, to use his fingers, to give you his cock. It was music to his ears.

There was nothing hotter than the breathless cries of a woman desperate for pleasure. He closed his eyes and sealed his lips around your clit, listening to the sounds you made, allowing them to direct him. You were gasping, offering strained whimpers, choked moans that dissolved into senseless babble, which told him you were really, really close. When he heard the urgent litany of cries, he released your clit. You screamed and twisted as your hips chased the pleasure he’d taken away. Lloyd pinned you down with both hands, forcing you to be still.

“I thought you wanted dick, Princess? Do you? Or do you want to come on my tongue?”

Your response was incoherent. Taking pity on you, he slid a finger in your pussy. When the powerful muscles clenched around the digit, his balls tightened.

“Fuck, that’s hot. Literally - your pussy’s burning up, sweetheart. It’s throbbing already and trying to suck me in deep. Ah… good girl. That’s it. Spread your legs.”

He inserted a second finger and watched as your face creased with pleasure. You were so wet that he had no qualms about adding a third finger. The soft, spongy walls stretched to accommodate him and you keened.

“Open your eyes, Princess. Look at how good you’re taking my fingers. Your pussy’s so soft for me, fucking welcoming, isn’t she? Watch.”

Lloyd adjusted the angle, reaching past your g-spot, and probing for the deep area that would make your toes curl. The effect was instant - your breath caught, air hissed out of your lungs, and your thighs trembled. His cock was leaking in his boxers and his balls were aching, but the sight, the sounds, they were too good for him to heed the demands of his body.

He eased his fingers lower and teased your g-spot. When you were shivering, right on the brink of release, he shoved the digits deep, returning to the spot that affected you so intensely, mixing up the pleasure points so that you couldn’t get off. He was amazed at how receptive you were to the deep penetration.

Your expression was one of utter bliss, with your lips parted on a needy whine, your eyelids half-closed, and your forehead creased in rapture. When he retreated to stroke your g-spot some more your legs jerked, trying to close and protect the vulnerable area.

“Ah, ah… Princess. Naughty. Bad girl, you keep those knees apart or I’ll spank you.”

“S-s-sorry,” you gasped, tears streaming down your cheeks.

He rubbed your inner thigh, loving the way your muscles quivered under his fingers. It echoed the frantic clenching of your pussy. His thumb teased your clit and you shrieked, throwing your head back and bracing your arms behind you as your back arched off the bed. Lloyd pressed harder, rubbing your clit in firm circles. As he expected, your thighs seized, trying to push him away as the pleasure became overwhelming. He pressed your knee down and forced your legs to remain open.

You screamed, bucking against his hand. He was relentless. Your arms gave way and you crumpled to the bed, falling flat on your back.

“What’s wrong baby? Can’t handle my fingers? Do you want me to stop?”

“No! No, no, please, please, Lloyd!”

He kissed you fiercely, then eased into a slower tempo, gentling the kiss. You whimpered and clawed at his shoulders in a silent request for more. When he broke away, your eyes were filled with tears and wet tracks marred your cheeks. He kissed them and murmured.

“Poor baby. Can’t get off from me sucking your nipples, couldn’t come when I suckled your puffy little clit, and now you’re running away from my fingers. I don’t think you really want to come…”

“Please, I need you inside of me. Fuck me, damn it!”

He groaned, cock twitching, and rubbed your hip to soothe you.

“Are you gonna keep your legs open, Princess? Or will I have to take you over my knee?”

“Lloyd, don’t tease me, I can’t take anymore. I need you now. Right now!”

You broke down in tears and he drew you to his chest, kissing you as you sobbed.

“Okay, okay, it’s okay, Princess. I won’t tease you anymore.” He squeezed the fleshy part of your inner thigh. “Turn around, get on your hands and knees, and put your ass in the air.”

You scrambled to obey, going on all fours and positioning yourself like he’d requested - almost.

“I told you to put your ass in the air,” Lloyd said.

“It is!”

He realized you hadn’t understood the request. Moving behind you, he cupped your breasts and pinched your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index finger. You pushed your hips back into his, whining. Lloyd tugged on your nipples, pulling them. You gasped and arched, lowering your chest to ease the sting. He used your nipples to guide your chest to the bed.

“That’s it,” he praised. “Put your ass up, honey. Just like that. Stretch your arms out. Reach toward the headboard.”

When you moved, your chest came off the bed. Lloyd pressed his palm between your shoulder blades and growled, “Princess…”

“What?!”

Your ass lowered and he jerked it back into position.

“Chest down, ass up,” he growled. “You stay just like this, or you’ll have a sore ass and raw nipples tomorrow morning.”

To emphasize the point, he smacked your ass lightly. You raised your hips and lowered your chest into the correct form. Lloyd traced the curve of your spine and admired the deep arch of your back.

“Now, how hard was that? Not too bad, huh? It’s easy to be a good girl. All you need to do is hold this position, sweetheart. I’ll do all the work.”

He dipped his fingers in your sex, circling your g-spot, and then sank the digits as far as he could reach. Your back arched into an even lower position at the sensation and he knew you were ready.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lloyd’s threat of giving you a sore ass and raw nipples echoed in your mind. You knew exactly what he meant by the latter because the other night you’d opened his nightstand drawer to borrow some lip balm and found the toys.

A bullet vibrator and a thick, curved stainless steel rod that you’d had to examine before realizing it was a dildo, were inside. In a small wooden box behind them, you’d found an anal plug and a fancy pair of nipple clamps. You’d slammed the drawer shut and forgotten all about borrowing his lip balm. Though you’d tried to put the matter out of your head, the nipple clamps had ignited your curiosity. You’d been wondering what they’d feel like for the past twenty-four hours.

Lloyd rubbed your lower back as he lined up your bodies. The broad head of his cock breached your opening, easily parting the slick, delicate tissues. His thrusts were slow as he invaded you inch by inch, making sure you could feel every ridge and vein. Even though you were soaked, the stretch was intense. Every part of your body was pulsating with need until the lust was a force of its own. When Lloyd eased back, you pressed your elbows into the mattress and rocked against him. His hands tightened on your waist, hips forcing you to stop.

“Lloyd,” you whimpered.

“I told you, Princess. Chest down, ass up, stay. Your chest isn’t down, is it?”

You groaned, feeling the heavy crest of his erection drag against your insides as he pulled out until just the tip was left.

“It’s not hard, is it, Princess?”

“Lloyd… don’t stop!”

You lowered your chest and extended your arms, assuming the correct position.

He leaned forward, and for a moment you thought he was going to use his body weight to pin you down, but he grabbed the handle of the nightstand drawer.

“You’re being a bad girl again. I warned you, Princess.”

You moaned at the sight of the silver nipple clamps, connected by a thin chain. Lloyd hauled you up and drew your back flush against his chest. He nuzzled your neck and rubbed the cool metal over your nipple, letting you feel it.

“What do you think, Princess? Do you want to try something new?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?” Lloyd murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

“I want to try it.”

He squeezed your breast and guided the clamp over the nipple, opening the claw and teasing you. Goosebumps rose on your arms.

“Ready, Princess?”

You nodded and the clamp snapped shut. Pain raced straight to your core and you both groaned at the clench of your pussy.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“It hurts!”

“Good.”

When he lifted your other breast, rolling your the puckered nipple to prepare it for its punishment, you assumed you knew what was coming. However, instead of a sharp sting, this clamp hurt worse. You lurched back, slamming into Lloyd’s chest. Immediately, you reached for the clamp, but he caught your wrist.

“No, don’t. Breathe, Princess. Deep breaths, that’s it.”

Tears swam in your eyes as he coached you. His hands stroked your body and the distraction of the calloused palms rubbing your waist and hips eased the pain. Suddenly, your breasts felt heavy and plump, despite the uncomfortable bite of the clamps.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Lloyd grunted.

You became aware of the flood between your legs and realized juices had dripped down your inner thighs. He thrust hard, seating himself deep in a single advance. This time instead of pushing your chest down, he grasped your wrists and used the leverage to force you to arch your back. His next thrust made you shudder.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured.

His thrusts made the clamps rattle, their weight tugging on your breasts and triggering a wave of pain. You cried out.

“Easy, let me make it better.”

Lloyd reached between your legs, his fingers dipping into your folds and stroking your clit.

Instantly, the pain from your nipples faded, replaced by a fierce wave of pleasure. You clenched around him and the rough sound of male desire it elicited from Lloyd had you quivering, on edge. He rocked in and out, keeping his fingers moving on your clit to distract you from the searing pain of the clamps.

“Hold on, Princess.”

That was your only warning before he impaled himself deep, the head of his cock pressing at the entrance to your womb. You shuddered, gasping when his thrusts grew rougher and harder. Fire sizzled across your skin, the sensations racing up your spine until your entire body rippled. Lloyd’s grip on your wrists tightened as you twisted in a moment of ecstasy.

He growled. “Don’t round your back, Princess. I wanna go deep… come on, be a good girl and arch for me.”

You moaned and tried to meet his demand but your body was reacting, writhing and squirming of its own accord as he rooted himself so deep that you saw stars.

“Aaahhh! Lloyd!”

He jerked your wrists, forcing you to lower your shoulders, and jostling the clamps. You squealed and Lloyd growled in response. Your reaction seemed to spur him into action. Suddenly his deep, powerful thrusts were making the headboard rattle against the wall. It was so deep. In seconds, you were shaking on the edge of orgasm and the sensation of the nipple clamps had dulled to a pleasureable tightness.

Lloyd drew back, the width of his cock stroking over all your tender spots, before pausing at your entrance, leaving just the tip inside. You gasped as he slammed into you hard, burying himself all the way in a brutal thrust that made you scream. He shifted his hands higher, moving his grip from your wrists to just above your elbows. Held in this fashion, you were prevented from retreating or twisting away when the head of his cock ground into your g-spot.

Involuntary undulations rippled through your muscles, each invasion causing your channel to squeeze as it tried to entrap him. Each time they failed, your pussy reacted to the next thrust as a fresh chance to lock him in a vice grip. The sizzling pain from the nipple clamps acted like a conductor, carrying the sensations from your core and spreading them through your whole body. Violent waves of pleasure encompassed every muscle and nerve you possessed.

Lloyd grasped the chain that connected the nipple clamps and tugged. You screamed. He grunted, panting as he increased the pace, pounding you even harder. His teeth scraped against your shoulder and the flash of pain made you quiver. You could feel the orgasm approaching and knew it would be more powerful than anything you’d experienced before. A ripple of fear passed through your dazed mind, questioning if you could survive something so intense or if you’d disintegrate.

“That’s it, Princess. Good girl, squeezing my cock, taking me deep… ah, fuck!”

He swirled his fingers on your clit, thrusting faster, making the clamps rattle. Each impalement made you cry, until unintelligible words were all you could manage. He was rooted so deep, your nipples hurt so bad, yet at the same time, they felt so good… his fingers were tormenting your clit… you couldn’t catch your breath, it was too much…

The orgasm stole your breath. When you collapsed, Lloyd’s grip was the only thing that kept you from crushing the nipple clamps into the mattress. Your legs trembled, jerking and twisting as your muscles spasmed and pleasure turned you into its puppet. You were only vaguely aware of Lloyd’s release. You wouldn’t have noticed, except that the rush of wetness against your cervix triggered another, smaller orgasm. The second climax soothed the brutality of the first, easing your muscles from shaking into quivering. Slowly, your pussy relaxed its vise grip and your sex began pulsating with soft flutters that were as sweet as they were intense.

Lloyd rolled onto his side, taking you with him. One brawny arm curled around your waist as he wrapped himself around you like a human blanket. You whimpered, caught in the vestiges of climax still wracking your body. Lloyd held you tight and murmured soothing words that your frazzled mind couldn’t comprehend.

You felt disjoined from reality. The strongest sensation was the throbbing, molten heat, that pulsed between your legs - everything else seemed dulled and faint in comparison. You would have been content to lay boneless in Lloyd’s arms forever, but after a few moments he separated your bodies. The sticky trickle of liquid down your thigh made you stir, but physical exhaustion was stronger than discomfort. Lloyd nuzzled your shoulder.

He said something and even though you heard him, your brain just… refused to process. Then he was pulling you into his chest and arranging your legs across his thighs. His arm supported your back and your head fell limply against his neck.

“Princess… Come on, Princess. Open your eyes,” Lloyd purred, stroking your cheek.

“Tired...”

“I bet you are, but I have to take off those clamps, sweetheart.”

Your lashes fluttered. The dull throb of the nipple clamps wasn’t so unpleasant any more.

“They’re okay.”

“It’s better if I take them off now.”

“M’kay…”

You were so lost in the afterglow that you didn’t care what he did.

“This’ll hurt,” Lloyd warned, his fingers brushing the side of your breast.

Perhaps if you hadn’t been so relaxed, you would’ve been more concerned. When he opened the right clamp, you weren’t prepared. You shrieked, almost lurching out of his lap.

“Ow, ow, ow! Fuck! Fucking hell, damn it, holy shit…!”

Lloyd caught you when you tried to crawl away. He wrapped both arms around your waist and hauled you against his chest. You let him hold you, but hissed when he palmed your stinging nipple, rubbing it briskly.

“I know, it hurts. Let me rub it out.”

The sensation was intense, a blend of pleasure and pain that confused you.

“Ready for the other one?” he asked.

“No!”

“It has to come off, and it’ll hurt worse later.”

You grit your teeth.

“Fine, do it!”

His lips brushed your temple. “Deep breath… three, two, one-”

“Aaaaahh!”

Tears spilled down your cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Lloyd murmured, already stroking it, rubbing circulation back into the flesh.

He kissed your shoulder. “You did so good, Princess. Did you like the clamps? Hate them?”

“Yes.”

Lloyd chuckled.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Considering your limited sexual history, Lloyd planned to spend more time than he normally would have on aftercare. What he didn’t anticipate was that you’d snuggled into his chest and fall asleep two minutes after he’d rubbed the blood flow back into your nipples. Figuring that it was probably the thought that counted, and cuddling was still a form of aftercare, he stayed in bed and held you while you slept. It was just past eight o’clock and he wasn’t tired, but he lay there and let the sound of your steady breath relax him. He let his mind drift.

His thoughts returned to Shun Nguyen.

Lloyd’s arms tightened around you, wondering why he hadn’t seen it himself. Nguyen was walking a red flag. Why had he let you speak with him alone for the second interview? The man had direct knowledge of his girlfriend’s murder and highly credible domestic violence accusations. Lloyd had put you in a room with him anyways; now you were being stalked. You snuffled in your sleep, mumbling. Lloyd stroked the length of your spine until you settled against him. He needed to wake you up and feed you, but he didn’t have the heart to do it yet. You’d been through a lot today.

He should be more careful with you. In the dark, quiet room the weight of his mistakes, of his errors in judgment, felt closer than ever. The communication problems you were having… those were probably his fault, too. He needed to mend the rift in your friendship and earn your trust again. Granted, he couldn’t tell you that he had every intention of killing Shun Ngueyn when the opportunity presented itself. When he did, he wasn’t going to be stupid about it. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize himself or cause you distress. Thinking about your distress made him uncomfortable.

Why had he gone for the nipple clamps tonight? They were hardly a beginner friendly choice. The bullet vibrator would’ve been more appropriate, but he’d been curious to see what effect a little pain would have on your pleasure. Choosing the clamps wasn’t his only error in judgment tonight. Even if the intense orgasm that unraveled you in the end was something rare and beautiful, the position he’d put you in had been too dominating.

Lloyd tried to focus on the positives, reminding himself that you’d trusted him. You had consented to the clamps and didn’t that prove how deep your trust ran?

But he hadn’t let you bail out when the second clamp hurt. He’d pushed your limits without asking for permission. Lloyd closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. He didn’t want to take advantage of you. If he did, it would be by accident, but he needed to be careful. In the future, he had to slow down and make sure he only used toys that suited your experience level.

Guilt seared his conscience. The emotion, like anxiety, wasn’t one he usually suffered from. Feeling guilty was one of his triggers for rage, so he tried to explore the emotion and search out its roots.

You’d trusted him tonight and now he was feeling unworthy of it. The lack of communication when you’d chosen not to tell him about your stalker… that must have come from a lack of trust. You didn’t think he could remain calm and help you instead of flying off the handle. Your behavior suggested that your trust in him was more physical than emotional.

He frowned, astonished by the revelation. You were his closest friend. He trusted you with his feelings… No, that wasn’t true.

He hadn’t told you about his estrangement from Joe. He hadn’t told you about helping Elliot get into rehab or seeing his ex-girlfriend when he was in Idaho. He hadn’t told you that he had sisters or that his mother had abandoned him and left him that horrible box of cassette tapes. He hadn’t told you that his father used to lock him under the tack room floorboards in a sunken coffin. You knew a lot about him - more than anyone else did - but not enough. The root of his guilt was suddenly clear. You weren’t communicating with him because you didn’t trust him. What had seemed like a failure to communicate ran much deeper.

He hadn’t done anything to earn the level of trust he was expecting from you.

His chest tightened, compressing with each beat of his heart. He wanted to address the problem but at the same time he was afraid of making a mistake and unraveling the delicate threads of your relationship. What if those delicate threads were already fraying, and he was just now noticing it? Something had to be done. Retreating wasn’t an option. Your friendship would never be enough for him again, not after having you as his lover. At the same time, he couldn’t bear the thought of tethering you to him and stifling your freedom.

Was there a balance that accommodated both of your needs?

Claiming you as his own would be selfish. Lloyd stared at the ceiling, trying to work out what he wanted. Monogamy, a shared home, your complete, unhesitating trust - those were the desires surged to the forefront of his mind. In a word, he wanted commitment.

Commitment.

The word churned his stomach. Lloyd couldn’t help the revulsion that welled up at the idea. He couldn’t stop the revulsion anymore than he could prevent himself from yearning for it. He repeated the phrase in his mind, as if exposure could resolve his phobia.

Commitment.

Lloyd shut his eyes. He did the breathing exercises again, but this time the anxiety refused to loose its grip.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Masterlist

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Next - Chapter XXII

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The Princess - Tag List:

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