For these children here, she wasn’t a treat but a possible threat. Only a man would be considered more menacing. Poor deVries. He really hadn’t liked terrifying the kids.

And now that she’d thought of him… She smiled at the boy he’d befriended. “Jeremiah, did Mr. deVries return to work on the door?”

He nodded vigorously. “I helped him. With everything.” The boy’s eyes were shining. “He gave me ten dollars because he says a man gets paid for his work.”

“You must have done a very good job,” Lindsey said. Did deVries have any idea of the effect he’d had on this child? Sure, he did. His Dom talents didn’t shut down when he left the club.

“He worked hard,” Jenna piped up. “The man said Jeremiah was an sellend helper.”

“Ex-cell-ent,” her mother prompted.

“E-sellend.” Jenna chewed on the end of her braid before offering, “Jeremiah spilled the things on the floor. The man laughed.”

DeVries had laughed at the kid? What kind of a—

“He didn’t hit me or yell,” Jeremiah whispered. “He made a…a little huffy sound. An’ said it was nothin’. He helped fix cars when he was eight, and he dumped a whole bucket of oil all over. Cuz he tripped.”

“Damn,” she said under her breath. A perfect response.

One woman, sitting beside Lindsey, sighed sadly. “So many of us forget what a normal man is like.” She patted her chest. “Even me. I actually had a good childhood. That’s the kind of joke my father would have made.”

Lindsey smiled. “Mine too.”

“If Papa had still been alive, he’d have killed my husband,” Jeremiah’s mother said softly enough the children wouldn’t hear.

Lindsey’s smile faded. Yes, her father would have torn Victor apart.

DeVries was also the type of man who would defend a woman. Regrettably he couldn’t protect her from the police. Getting him involved might get him killed.

Looking down, she pretended to concentrate on her food, seeing instead the officer who had responded to her 9-1-1 call that horrendous night. Craig had been a classmate of Melissa’s. He’d been stunned at the sight of Victor’s body. Even so, after viewing the boxes of weapons and the drugs and speaking with the boy, he’d been firmly on her side. After calling in the report, he’d let her go to shower off the blood.

And Parnell had killed him. His own officer…merely for knowing what had really happened.

No, she couldn’t risk deVries. Mustn’t.

Chapter Eleven

Friday evening was chill with a mist bordering on rain as deVries knocked on the door of Lindsey’s house. Country-western music was playing softly enough he could hear the soft thud of her feet on the wooden floor. Over the past few days, he’d noticed she was often barefoot. One more habit showing who she was. He liked a woman who went for comfort at home.

When she opened the door, he had to grin. Yep, he was dead-on. Barefoot. Jeans and a loose T-shirt. A clamp held her brown hair on top of her head, showing the purple strands. Her face brightened for a second before she scowled. “What are you doing here?”

“We went out last night. Tonight we’ll stay in.” He motioned to the grocery sack at his feet. “Can you cook chicken? Southern fried chicken?”

“DeVries, have you been taking your meds?”

Fuck, he liked her sassy mouth. He bent down and sampled, feeling the way her lips softened. Her scent drifted upward, the fragrance like a flower garden in the spring. Bet she just got out of a bath. He deepened the kiss.

She took a step forward, her hands on his shoulders. Oh, she was into him whether she thought it was smart or not. Lifting his head, he whispered against her lips, “Answer my question, baby.”

“Um…” She backed away and shook her head like a boxer after catching a hard punch.

“Can you cook chicken?” he repeated, curving a hand around her bared nape. Tiny soft tendrils tickled his fingers.

“Of course. But what are—”

“Good.” He picked up the grocery sack and his toy bag and walked through the door. “I brought food. And a movie.”

“Excuse me.” Her voice rose. “Stop!”

Almost to the kitchen, he turned. God, she was cute.

Hands on hips, she glared at him. “Polite people call first. They don’t ask themselves right over.” The Texas twang had definitely increased.

“Don’t like talking on phones. You gotta eat supper; we can eat together.” He strained to keep his face straight when the ire in her eyes burned. Be fun if she attacked him.

“You-you…” She caught up to him in the kitchen and grabbed his arm. “I’m not your damned cook!”

“Sure you are. I’ll help.” Chuckling, he set her on the counter beside his toy bag.

Her unexpected kick to his gut knocked him sideways a step. Her eyes rounded. “I’m sorry—I—”

“Not a bad defense, but you should have followed up.” Pinning her lower legs with his body, he toppled her over onto her back on the counter. “Now you’re going to pay.”

“Damn you, don’t you dare!” She struggled, but the gleam in her eyes, the way her nipples strained inside the T-shirt—fuck, she wasn’t wearing a bra—he knew her objections weren’t serious. Still, in case…

“Safeword still works.” He met her wide-eyed gaze and smiled slowly. “Nothing else you say will.” And he yanked her jeans down.

Lightly tanned legs. And one red lacy excuse for underwear, which barely covered her pussy. He removed her right pants leg, leaving her left leg encased. After shoving the loose end into a drawer, he leaned on it, trapping her leg with the caught fabric.

They’d played lightly a few times over the past week. She knew him fairly well. Time to push her a bit. And…well, how convenient…there was a knife rack.

When he drew the wood-handled butcher knife out, she froze, staring at it, a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

He took an alcohol swab from his bag. As the sharp scent filled the air, he cleaned the blade and leisurely dragged the edge like a shaver down her stomach.

Her breathing stopped.

He slid it under the left side of the underwear, feeling the fibers part. Pretty damn sharp. “Guess I owe you new undies.”

Her eyes couldn’t get much bigger. Fuck, he loved this.

He did the other band of the thong and bared her pussy. “You’re not going to kick me again, right?” he asked softly.

Her voice came out in a whisper. “N-no. DeVries—”

“I like being called Sir. Master works once in a while.”

“Sir. You wouldn’t really—”

“Shut up, babe.” He touched the point of the knife to her nipple. Just so she could feel the point—not nearly enough to draw blood.

Her pounding pulse jiggled her little breasts, and she was hardly breathing. Nice. Just right.

He laid the hilt on her stomach and positioned the hefty bare blade between her breasts. “You planning to move?”

Her no was so low he barely heard it.

“Didn’t think so. Gonna have some fun now… Warning, babe, you wiggle and I’ll amuse myself with the blade instead.” He kept his weight on the drawer, ensuring the jeans would keep her left leg anchored. With a firm grip, he pushed her right knee outward, opening her pussy. The folds glistened, assuring him she liked edge play as much as he did.

And he did; he was hard as a rock.

After giving her a warning look, he bent and licked from above her asshole to her clit. Under his palm, her leg muscles jumped. Be fun to see how long she could hold still. In fact…

Since his hip and left hand were keeping her open, he happened to have a free hand. With his right thumb and forefinger, he captured her nipple. Nothing felt as smooth as a nipple. Nothing tasted like a woman’s cunt. He wiggled his tongue over her clit and pinched her nipple at the same time.

The sound she made, fear and passion. Yeah, he’d enjoy this. Working his way down, he pushed his tongue into her entrance, felt the first wiggle. Lifted his head. “Did you move?”

Her hands clenched again. “No. Please, no.”

He released the jutting peak, smoothed over it, took the time to pinch the other, and felt her legs jerk. She was already nicely close to coming.

Spotting a dish towel, he arranged it over her eyes to block out her vision. Firmly, he took her hands and put them under her lower back in a token restraint. “Now, that’s just pretty. All laid out for me.”

She made a noise of frustration but was smart enough not to speak.

After unzipping his toy bag, he found a soft anal dildo, lubed it, and fitted it against the tight rim of muscle. “Let it in, babe,” he cautioned. As it slid in, he saw the tremor run through her. Perfect. The pressure would keep her right on the edge while he played…with edges.

After quickly cleaning the blades of his two favorite knives, he lifted the butcher knife from her chest. With her eyes covered, she wouldn’t know what he used—and he preferred his own where he knew their sharpness—they didn’t have any burrs to catch flesh—and how hard he could press.

If she figured he was using the butcher knife, well, wouldn’t that just break his heart?

“You played with knives before, pet?” He leaned forward, pinning her legs down again.

“N-no.”

“This time, I’m not going to cut you, babe. Might welt you up a bit; not more. We clear on that?”

Her head moved up and down an infinitesimal amount, as if she were afraid to move.

Why did playing with knives and little females make him want to laugh? “Good. Safeword is red. You get too scared, and you let me know.” This time around, he wouldn’t push her further.

He dragged the knife over the flatter parts of her body—her tender stomach, tops of her thighs. Normally he’d start on her back, but he liked this position for her. Trapped by her own tight jeans.