Tease Me (Temptation Series Book 2)

by Kally Ash

  Almost five years ago, when they'd first started dating and when he'd first asked her to submit to him, she had balked at the idea. She was Evangeline Webster. She'd been to hell and back and she craved control like he craved submission. She thought they were too different, but then she realized they were two sides of the same coin. Yes, she wanted control to feel grounded, but relinquishing it to Beau gave her the freedom she so sorely sought.

  "Stand up," he said, breaking her away from her thoughts. With one final lick, she stood up, vaguely aware her dress was askew. He reached for her, his fingers dancing lightly over her flushed skin. "Strip."

  Without hesitation, she pulled the dress over her head and dropped it to the floor. Her bra and panties followed, and when she was standing bare before him, he finally looked her over—a predatory gleam in his eyes.

  "You're still just as beautiful as I remember." He touched her collarbones, sweeping his fingers down between her breasts and cupping one. His thumb flicked over her nipple, drawing it into a tight peak. He kissed her hard and fast before his mouth was on her breast, his tongue flicking over and over against her hot flesh. She arched into him, unable to help herself, and he wrapped an arm around her back, holding him to her, locking her into an embrace she had no desire to escape from.

  With his free hand, he skimmed his fingers down her stomach, through her folds and sank two into her pussy. It clenched at the invasion, but like before in the elevator, it soon stretched out to accommodate him. He suckled at her while pumping his fingers in and out, in and out, until she became a mindless mess.

  "I need you now," Beau said, and that was all the warning she received before he stepped behind her and pressed her into the wall. His erection lay between her ass cheeks, insistent and hard. "I need you," he breathed into her ear. "And I don't want anything between us."

  Evangeline bit back the groan. She'd only ever gone bare with him. She'd only ever trusted him. She tilted her pelvis in his direction, lining his cock up with her opening. He pushed into her with agonizing slowness.

  Inch my inch, he worked his way inside her, giving her a moment to adjust. And then he began to move. He took his time, placing kisses on the back of her neck as he slowly fucked her from behind. Her breasts were pressed into the wall, the cold surface and the hardness were a strange combination for her body to get used to.

  All thoughts of the wall were soon lost when he reached around and began playing with her clitoris. Her head rolled back, fitting in the hollow of his collarbones. Her nails dug into his skin, scraping against him, urging him on.

  "Nothing has changed, Vee. You smell the same, you taste the same, you sound the same. I've fucking missed this."

  She'd missed this too. She cried out when he withdrew from her completely and dropped to his knees. Hiking one leg up over his shoulder, exposing her pussy to him, he began licking and sucking at her. Wildly, desperately, she reached out both hands blindly, trying to find something to hold on to. One hand hit the wall, the other landed on his shoulder. He was driving her insane.

  With a moan, she said, "Fuck me, Beau."

  He chuckled. "Beg me."

  "Please," she whimpered. "Fuck me."

  He surged to his feet, his hands coming to rest on the wall on either side of her face. In one smooth motion, he impaled her once more, his cock moving in and out of her with agonizing slowness. She dug in her nails, urging him to move, to shove her over the edge, to give her the release she'd been craving.

  "Say it," he said, his voice strained.

  "Tell me I can come," she said, the words nothing but a whisper, the barest hint of what she wanted to scream.

  "Come," he growled, and her body listened. As if on cue, the buildup she'd been feeling exploded and she was left to ride the crest of the wave before finally tumbling into the ocean of sensation. Beau came with a long, low groan. Evangeline could feel him pulsing inside her, filling her up. There was something so primal about that—knowing he was leaving a part of himself inside her. Submission may have been something they did, but ultimately, she held all the power.

  Beau pulled himself free, then took her hand, leading her into the bathroom. He turned on the shower, checking the temperature in between kissing her mouth, her neck, her breasts. He was worshiping her, she realized, and she wanted to be the object of his fanaticism. Stepping into the shower with him, he washed her carefully, cleaning every inch of her, touching every inch of her.

  He kissed her slowly, skimming his fingers over her skin and raising goose bumps. When the hot water began to run out, he shut off the water, wrapped her up in a towel before getting one for himself, and took her to bed. As they lay there, letting their heart rates slow, she said, "We should have some ground rules."

  "Ground rules?" he asked, frowning. He propped himself up on his elbow beside her. "Like, do we sleep over at each other's places, or is it more of a ‘once it's done, it's done’ kind of thing?"

  For the sake of her own heart, she said, "No sleepovers."

  He whistled through his teeth. "A four-hour round trip for sex," he said.

  "You agreed to this, Beau," she replied, exasperated.

  "Right," he replied. "What about dates? Do we go on them, or is this just sex?"

  "It's just sex, Beau. Mind-blowing, amazing sex, but that's all I can give you."

  He nodded. "I will take whatever you're willing to give."

  They lay there in relative silence, and Evangeline wondered if he was going to leave now that she'd made it clear there wasn't going to be much more intimacy other than fucking. That was when she felt his erection pressing into her ass.

  "Ready for round two?" he asked with a grin in his voice.

  15

  Beau was going to change Vee's mind. If it was the last thing he did, he would get her to want more from him, to want him the way he wanted her. As he lay there cradling her against him, he thought life just couldn't get any better. She moaned gently in her sleep, snuggling more closely. He inhaled the scent of her hair, letting out a small sigh of his own. He had to admit he'd been shocked when she said she'd wanted no-strings sex. He didn't do no-strings sex, but to be with Vee, he'd play along. He had a feeling she was only trying to keep her distance, that she was struggling with her decision to maintain the distance, but he would be there when she pulled her head out of her ass and realized what she really wanted.

  The new morning sun was streaming through the window, shedding golden light over the bed and them. He had that lunch meeting with the Realtor today, but he had no intention of moving from this bed until Vee kicked him out of it. He raised his arm to glance at his watch. Eight oh five. A two-hour drive—okay, maybe three—to get home and get ready. His lunch appointment was at twelve. He had less than an hour left to make Vee scream his name again.

  "You stayed over," Vee murmured, sticky and sated, pushing the hair from her face. She had just come... twice... begging him to stop after the first. Beau had missed this. Making love to Vee in the morning had been his favorite pastime. Everything about them worked, from the way their personalities complemented each other, to the way their bodies moved in sync. She was his absolute equal, and for four years, he had tried to find someone who was on par with her; nobody had ever measured up.

  "I fell asleep," he lied with a shrug. She couldn't know that he'd stayed awake for the whole night; he'd just watched her sleep, thought about how to make her see they're meant to be together, and generally just lay there because he knew it was one of her rules and he wanted to break it—to push her limits.

  She sat up, not bothering to take the sheet with her to cover herself. Without turning around, she said, "You need to go."

  Instead of arguing with her, he agreed. "I'll be out of your hair in a few minutes."

  He stood up, looking around the room to find his clothes. Scooping them, he got dressed quickly and planted a kiss on her cheek. He expected her to pull away, but if anything, she leaned in a little closer.

  "I'll call you lat
er."

  She looked down at the floor, frowning. "Yeah. Drive safe."

  "I will." He paused in the doorway. "Thanks, Vee."

  She looked at him sharply. "For what?"

  He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Last night."

  "I'll see you later, Beau."

  He left the apartment without trying to figure out what was bothering her—and there was something bothering her. He just didn't know what it was. She had brought up this agreement, and yes, he had agreed to it because he would take whatever she would give him, but it seemed as if she wasn’t exactly happy about what was going on. He couldn't broach the subject though; that was on her.

  He found his car—along with a parking ticket—and got in. Driving as fast as he legally could, he managed to get back to John’s place with forty-five minutes to get to the lunch meeting. He showered and changed, then got back into his car to make his appointment.

  Beau walked into the restaurant where the Realtor asked him to meet, putting on his game face.

  "Beau Jenkins?" a stuffy middle-aged woman asked, standing up as he approached the table.

  "Yes. Alicia Rawlings?"

  She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yes. It's a pleasure to meet you." She gestured to the empty seat in front of her. "Please. Sit down." He did. "Why don't you tell me about the property."

  Beau laid it out for her, including what kind of price he wanted to get. His mother had made it abundantly clear that she wanted top dollar for her house so that Beau could set himself up properly.

  "Look, the market has just gone into a decline," Alicia said. "How low this decline goes is anybody's guess, but I will try to get you the most for your mother's property."

  "I appreciate that," he replied, suddenly overwhelmed with the prospect of selling.

  A server came over to take their orders.

  “Just water for me,” said Alicia, glancing at Beau.

  “Ah, water is fine,” he said, confused.

  "Of course," the server said with a smile, excusing herself from the table.

  Alicia pulled out her phone. "I can swing by to take a look at the property this afternoon. Around four thirty? Would that be okay?"

  "Of course. I can show you through, although it will be filled with boxes. I'm still in the process of sorting through my mother's things."

  Another one of those emotionless smiles. "It's no problem. I'll meet you at the property at four thirty, but if you'll excuse me, I have another meeting to get to." She stood up.

  "Right." He stood up, holding out his hand to shake hers. "Thank you. And thank you for seeing me."

  "No problem, Mr. Jenkins."

  Beau left, annoyed that he couldn’t have had this conversation with Alicia over the phone rather than losing time he could’ve spent with Vee. Recalling her number with perfect clarity, he pulled out his phone and finally did what he didn’t have the courage to do in the last four years: send her a message.

  Getting back in his car, he started back to his mom’s house. He had to shift those boxes into the garage, then figure out exactly what he was going to do with them. Goodwill was a no-brainer, but some of those figurines may have some actual value. The drive was quick, and as soon as he put the car in park, the memories of his mom's decline in health and ultimate death crashed into him. He sucked in a breath, let it go, then went through the action one more time. He'd already laid her to rest and packed up the house; he could do this too. Outside, the sun was hot on his skin, sweat beading almost instantly. This was going to be hot work.

  Unlocking the house, a wall of heat hit him as he stepped inside. Looking around the living room, he counted the boxes—at least thirty in this room alone. Add her furniture on top of that and it was going to be a long afternoon. There was no reason to put it off though. Pulling off his shirt, he tucked it into the waistband of his jeans and got to work.

  A couple of hours of hard labor later, Beau stopped when his phone pinged with a message. It was John. Instead of texting a reply, he called.

  "Yo, Beau, what's happening?"

  "I've got the Realtor coming around in”—he checked his watch—"shit, like an hour to check out my mom's house. I'm moving the boxes into the garage so she can start showing it as soon as possible."

  "Man, I wish I could come and give you a hand, but I have a work dinner tonight."

  "It's fine, man. I can move most of it before she comes and then finish off the rest tonight."

  "Still, I wish I could help. If you still need help tonight, I'll swing by after the dinner."

  Beau wiped his brow with his forearm. "Don't stress, John. I'll see you when I get home."

  Pocketing his phone, he cursed for not bringing any bottled water with him and walked into the kitchen. Opening up the faucet, he cupped his hands under the flow and drank his fill. He splashed some water onto his face, but it hardly made a difference. He turned off the tap and rested his hands on the sink, his gaze focused on the lemon tiles on the backsplash. Reaching out, he ran his fingers over the floral pattern his mom had loved so much. Even after all these years it was still bright despite their recent years of heartache.

  "I miss you, Mom." He whispered the words into the empty house—and that's all it was now: a house. It was only a home because his mom was there. But she was gone. His head drooped between his shoulders, suddenly too heavy to even hold up. He felt his grief rise up, the grief he had tried to hide behind a wall of stoicism. The sob that broke free of his throat sounded too loud in the empty house, but once the tears started, he found he couldn't make them stop.

  He tensed when a pair of arms came to wrap around his middle from behind. He looked down, taking in the short, no-nonsense nails and the black Fitbit on the wrist.

  "Vee?" he said, turning around. He wiped the tears from his eyes, still not quite sure if he was seeing things right. "What are you doing here?"

  She shrugged, unhooked her arms, and wandered to a pile of boxes. She opened one up and had a look inside. Reaching in, she pulled out the coffee mug he hadn't been able to wrap up and considered giving away. To anyone else, it wouldn't have been a horrible piece of pottery and wouldn’t have meant a thing, but to Beau and his memories, it was everything. Vee had come home with him for every holiday when they were dating, and every holiday, his mother had doted on Vee like she was her own daughter—the daughter she never had. After that first visit, his mom had made and given her a crude-looking mug. Evangeline turned the mug around, letting the light catch the iridescent glaze still clinging to the pottery.

  "She kept it," she murmured, eyes on the mug.

  "It's yours," he blurted out. She looked at him sharply. "I was going to keep it, but it's only right that you have it."

  She looked back down at the mug, holding it a little closer to her chest briefly before placing it back into the box. Beau's heart fell. "I don't know why I came," she said.

  He cleared his throat, unsure what to say, fearing he'd scare her away. He didn't understand why she was here either. When he'd texted, it had only been to say he was packing up the house and wouldn't be able to see her tonight. He'd hesitated to send it because he hadn't wanted to assume they would be seeing each other every day, even though he wanted to. He'd see Evangeline every day if he could. He found that he was becoming addicted to her, just like he had four years ago.

  Clearing his throat, he wandered into the other room, listening to see if she would follow him. He picked up one of the last boxes left in the dining room and moved to the front door, propping it open with his back. He stacked the box on top of the others in the garage then went back toward the house. Just as he reached for the screen door, it popped open and Vee wandered out holding a box of her own. Wordlessly, they passed one another.

  When he placed the final piece of evidence of his mom's existence down, he stood outside the open garage and looked at the stacked cardboard. He blew out a sigh. He turned to find Evangeline standing beside him, staring. He glanced down at h
imself and grinned.

  "You're staring," he said.

  She licked her lips, then jerked her chin toward his chest. "Did you lose your shirt?" she snipped, crossing her arms.

  His smile brightened. "Are you complaining?"

  "You're an ass." She turned on her heel to leave, but he grabbed her arm.

  "Why did you come today?" he asked, and her expression softened for a moment before her eyes grew cold.

  "I don't know." She pulled free from his grip and began to stalk away, but he wouldn't let her run again. He caught up to her quickly, standing right in front of her. She tried to sidestep him, but he cut her off.

  "Talk to me, Vee. Why did you come?"

  She glared at him with unshed tears standing in her eyes. "Because you were in pain."

  Her words caught him by surprise. Between one heartbeat and the next, he closed the distance, sealing his mouth over hers. Vee tried to pull away, to break their kiss, which only made Beau tighten his grip on her. She was fighting their attraction, dammit. He started to nibble on her neck, pressing his growing erection into her belly.

  "This is real," he said, biting down on her earlobe. She moaned, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Backing her against the side of the house, he undid his jeans and fumbled with the drawstring on her running shorts. Shoving the fabric down past her ass, he pushed aside her panties and sank inside her. Her body accommodated him in an instant, stretching and molding to fit his growing cock. He slid almost all the way out before slamming back into her. Vee hissed, digging her short nails into the top of his back. The sharp burst of pain spurred him on, his thrusts growing deeper and faster until they came together and the world seemed to stop simultaneously.

  Sweating and panting, he stayed sheathed within her, wanting to hold on to this feeling. Evangeline's green eyes met his, her confusion over what they were doing—what they were sharing—evident. She wanted to maintain distance, but he wouldn't be happy doing that for very long. He wanted her back in his life, and he would do just about anything to make that happen.