Unfinished Heroes: Sebring Part 69

f.u.c.k again.

"What's that?" she asked, unmoving, her eyes didn't even drop down to the dog.

He walked into the room. Crouching close to her, he swept up the puppy.

It started licking his jaw at the same time trying to chew his ear and climb on his shoulders.

"Pet store next to the hardware store. It's adoption day. I went in," he explained, watching her closely. "I couldn't leave without taking him with me."

"What's that?" she repeated.

Nick didn't reply as he tried to read her.

"What is that?" she enunciated each word clearly as he continued to try to contain the pup at the same time figure out what was going on behind her blank green eyes. "The breed," she finished.

"Mutt, but they say mostly Labrador."

He watched her green eyes instantly round huge.

Then they squeezed tightly shut as she burst out laughing.

He stared stunned as she clapped her slimy hands, catching the pup's attention, his ears flying out as he looked to Liv, and she stumbled-actually f.u.c.king stumbled-gracelessly to the sink.

She did a s.h.i.t job washing her hands and they were still half-wet when she came back to him, still laughing, eyes on the puppy, hands up.

She tore the dog right from his grip, cooing, "Come to Momma, baby. That's it," she stretched her neck as the dog bathed it with her tongue, "give Momma kisses."

Nick stood still as she wandered away, a princess with shining black hair in designer jeans and high heeled boots in a rustic, old house in the mountains of Tennessee being lavished by dog spit, still cooing and doing it nonsensically as she walked out of the kitchen into the living room "At least he didn't take us to a trendy country setting that's really a suburb. We are firmly in a country setting that is not trendy," she a.s.sured the dog absurdly. "But there are no horses to be raised in sight."

Nick still didn't move as she disappeared into the living room but he heard her go on.

"Ooo, you're a boy. We need to name you." Her voice rose. "Nicky! We need to name him. Come in here and do not touch the food. I'm cooking dinner and I'm not taking your s.h.i.t."

Nick continued to stand still until, slowly, he turned his head to look to the door to the garage. He then turned back to look into the kitchen.

"Whiz." He heard her say. "You move like lightning. No, Punk." He heard the dog whine. "You don't like Punk? Okay, but you can't be Spot, you're not spotted."

He looked back to the garage door.

"Nick!" she called.

He stared at the threshold at the bottom.

f.u.c.k, he hadn't noticed.

"Sweetheart." He heard her again and knew she was back in the kitchen. "Our dog needs a name."

He looked to her to see she was bent over, a.s.s in the air looking fine in her jeans, putting their new puppy on the floor.

It jumped back in her arms.

Now, he noticed.

There he was.

He'd made it.

He'd f.u.c.king made it. With his own hands, sweat, b.a.l.l.s, gut and brains.

He'd made it and he'd earned it and there he was...

Living it.

His perfect world.

The Next Day He didn't gag her. He wouldn't ever gag her. He liked the noises she made too much.

But he did blindfold her.

And he strung her up.

She took it all, his Livvie. Even if he'd intended to break her in slowly, she writhed against the leather straps around her wrists hung from the hook on the wall, her naked body arching, seeking, inviting, the noises she made telling him where she was.

That being that she wanted more.

And more.

And more.

He gave it to her, his c.o.c.k pulsing with each fall of the crop, his b.a.l.l.s tightening with each red welt that rose against the beautiful skin of her a.s.s and thighs.

She even rode the handle of the crop like he ordered.

His princess at his command.

He watched her work the crop in and out of her wet c.u.n.t, her teeth sunk into her lower lip, her t.i.ts bouncing, the nipples he'd worked first, taking his time doing it, hard and straining.

So f.u.c.king pretty.

She gave him that, he gave her what she'd needed and never been able to have, he'd give it to her again.

Now, enough was enough.

So he pulled the crop out of her, tossed it aside, wrapped an arm around her belly, cupping her pubis with his other hand to tip her back for him, and he drove his c.o.c.k home.

Her held fell back against his shoulder, her lips whimpering, "Nicky," she came for him the instant he filled her.

He f.u.c.ked her strung up, holding her tight to take it, after she came down going after her c.l.i.t to make her come for him again.

She did.

Then he did.

He didn't move, stayed buried, his arms wrapped around her as she hung for him, filled with him, her head still back, turned, her forehead in the side of his neck.

"You good?" he murmured.

"Yes, Nicky," she murmured back.

"Good they had a decent hook at the hardware store," he teased.

He felt her smile against his skin but she only replied, "Mmm."

He slid a hand up to her breast and cupped it.

"Who do you belong to, Livvie?" he asked.

"You, Nicky," she whispered, pressing her forehead in harder.

"Who do you love?" he asked.

More of her whisper, "You, sweetheart."

"Whose heart do you own?"

She shifted her head back and he tipped his chin down, lifting his hand from her breast to pull the blindfold away so he could catch her eyes.

Her beautiful voice wrapped sweet around the word, "Yours."

That was when he kissed her, slow and wet.

He'd barely broken their kiss, his lips still to hers, when she murmured, "You forgot my plug, master."

Nick caught her eyes.

Olivia, naked, strung up, red-a.s.sed from his crop, still full of his c.o.c.k, he couldn't hold back.

He burst out laughing.

Pressing her face into his neck, he heard it and felt it when his girl did the same.

Four Days Later Nick was tossing a log into the fireplace when he saw movement in his peripheral vision.

He looked that way and caught it as Whiz entered, doing it galloping, puppy ears flopping.

Not long after, Olivia came in holding a shoe.

"You are correct," she announced haughtily. "He's fast. The name Whiz suits him." She shoved the shoe toward him, a shoe he now saw was chewed to s.h.i.t. "I'm also correct. He's also a punk."

Whiz made a whining sound.

"He doesn't like Punk, baby," Nick told Liv something she knew because the dog spoke f.u.c.king English and whined every time that word was uttered in reference to him.

"Then he should stop being a punk, sweetheart," Liv shot back.

Another whine from Whiz.

"He's not a punk, he's a pup," Nick pointed out.

"The closet door was closed," she returned. "He's not only a puppy punk. He's a puppy magician punk."

f.u.c.k.

He'd gone in to get a flannel to wear when he brought in wood and hadn't closed the closet door.

Liv read him and her hand dropped to her side as her eyes went to the ceiling.

"Nick," she snapped at the ceiling.

"I'll buy you another shoe." He grinned. "Two of them, if you're a good girl."

She returned her gaze to him. "You'll need to. This shoe," she shook it at him again, "isn't suitable to country living. But when we're back in Denver, I'll need it and the meager other selection I brought with me that didn't go up in smoke."

Taking in the strappy sandal that was minus a number of straps, some of a spike heel and a good deal of its sole, he mentally considered a visit to the vet as he advised, "Best to stock up for country living. Time we're in Denver, you won't need that many of those type of shoes."

"Sorry?"

He looked to her. "Does Whiz have half your shoe in his belly?"

"No, Punk decorated our bedroom floor with half this shoe so it's now in the garbage."

Thank Christ for that.

Whiz whined.

"Nick," she called.

He turned his attention back to her, straightening from the fireplace to take his feet.

"The time we're in Denver?" she asked.

"Yeah. We should think about when we can go back. A visit. Knight's gettin' impatient and Kasha's definitely-"

Her head tipped sharply to the side. "A visit?"