Badd to the Bone

by Jasinda Wilder

  "Claire--"

  "Wanna know how I'm dealing, Brock? I'm gonna chuck it in the fuck it bucket and move on."

  "Come on, Claire." I sighed. "You're being stubborn."

  And again, her bobber sank and she hauled in another fish. Bigger than the last one, too. This time she unhooked it and ran it onto the stringer, while I watched in a not-so-fake annoyance.

  "What the fuck is your secret? Seriously."

  She rubbed at the crotch of her jeans. "Pussy magic."

  I stared at her. "The hell does that mean?"

  "It means I have a pussy, so I'm just better at everything than you." She stuck her tongue out at me. "Girls rule, boys drool."

  "Wow. That's mature."

  She snickered. "You're just getting pissy because you know it's true."

  "I'm getting pissy because you're being ridiculous."

  "And if I wasn't ridiculous, you wouldn't be even half so attracted to me."

  I laughed. "I can't argue with that, actually."

  "That's right. See, Brock? I'm winning!"

  I snorted, shaking my head. "You're something else, Claire Collins."

  "Let's play a game," she suggested, jerking the tip of her pole upward a few times.

  "Okay..."

  "I bet I'll catch another fish before you get your first. And if I do, you're not allowed to ask me how I'm feeling, or what's wrong, or why I'm not emoting about my dad, or any of that bullshit. You just forget it."

  "And if I catch a fish before you do?"

  "I'll see a therapist. And I'll blow you on the flight back."

  "That seems lopsided."

  "Deal or no deal?" She held my gaze, her eyebrow quirked.

  I sighed. "Fine. Deal."

  She held out one hand for me to shake. "For real. No asking."

  "Fine, I agree," I said, shaking her hand.

  As soon as I let go of her hand, she started cackling triumphantly. "SUCKER!" she shouted, and stood up and started reeling in like a madwoman.

  I stared in disbelief. "Are you for fucking real?"

  She kept cackling as she hauled in yet another monster fish. "I had it on the line the whole time!"

  "You're evil."

  "Yes I am."

  I restrained the urge to growl, or haul her over my knee and spank her. Which, on second thought, she'd probably enjoy. "That's not fair. No deal."

  "Oh no, no no no. You shook on it! No take-backs." She tossed her pole into the plane and pointed her finger at me. "You wouldn't break your word, would you, Brock Badd?"

  "You cheated!"

  "And?"

  "That negates the deal."

  "No it doesn't. You'd have known I had a fish on the line if you'd looked at my bobber. Not my fault you weren't paying attention."

  I had an image in my head, now: Claire bent over my legs, her sweet, sexy ass bare for me, my hand descending to spank her ass until those hot little cheeks were all red and she was begging me to stop, or to fuck her.

  And damn it, now that I had the thought in my head it wouldn't leave. The idea of having Claire's bare ass under my hand, taking my punishment like the bad girl she was...damn. Damn. I had to do it, and somehow I knew she would probably get off on being spanked.

  I glared at her, and then, on a whim, grabbed her wrist, threatening to yank her off balance and into the water.

  "Brock! Don't!" She tried to resist, but I had her wrist in a firm but gentle grip, keeping downward pressure so she was one solid yank from going swimming. "Brock, I swear, do not get me wet. This is my favorite sweater, and my phone is in my pocket. I swear to fuck, I will never speak to you again if you pull me in."

  I kept up the pressure. "Pull your pants down."

  She froze, staring at me. "What?"

  "You heard me." I transferred my grip on her wrist to my other hand so I could set my pole in the plane, and then latched onto her ankle. "One heave, and you're swimming. Pants around your ankles."

  "Why? What are you gonna do?"

  "You never know. Now, pants down, Claire."

  She moved slowly, never taking her eyes off me. She unzipped her jeans, shimmied them down around her ankles. "Okay."

  I quirked an eyebrow up. "Underwear too."

  She hooked her fingers in the sides of her neon green thong and tugged so the scrap of fabric was pooled down with her jeans. "Now what?"

  "Lay face down on my lap."

  "What if I fall in?"

  "I won't let you."

  "Promise?"

  "I'd never break a promise to you, Claire." I held her gaze, letting her see the truth.

  She moved gingerly, slowly and awkwardly shuffling toward me. I grabbed her waist with both hands and guided her down, keeping her balanced as she flattened her belly onto my thighs. "What's your plan here, Brock? If you want to fuck me, you're missing a few minor details."

  "Not planning on fucking you," I said, palming her ass cheek. "At least, not yet."

  "Then what are you--" She broke off with a startled shriek as I smacked her ass cheek. I wasn't exactly gentle, either. The crack of my hand across her butt echoed across the water, and she lurched forward. "FUCK!"

  I held her down. "Be still."

  "What the hell is this?"

  I spanked the other cheek, and she shrieked again, lurching so the plane rocked. "This is what you get for cheating."

  The other cheek again, and now the pale, creamy bubble of her ass was pinking, and she was whimpering, gripping my jeans with both hands clawed like talons. I rubbed gently over the pink spots with my palm, and she began to loosen her grip. And I struck again, smacking harder than the last time, hard enough that she was jolted. I didn't give her a reprieve, but spanked again, and she whimpered, sounding like she was biting her lip. The whimper wasn't of pain, though. Oh no, I knew my girl.

  "You like this, don't you, Claire?" I demanded in a rough voice, caressing the reddening flesh.

  "No," she groaned.

  I slid my fingers between her thighs and found her slit, dipped a finger in. "You're soaked, Claire. Your pussy is dripping." I spanked her again, twice on one cheek, but more softly. "Don't lie to me."

  She writhed on me, and I tightened the grip of my arm around her middle, keeping her pinned down onto my legs. "Your weak little spanks don't turn me on," she growled. "You're gonna have to spank me a hell of a lot harder than that."

  "Is that right?" I murmured.

  I sucked the juices off my fingers noisily, and she craned her head over her shoulder to watch me as I licked my fingers. Slowly, gently, I caressed her ass cheeks, one and then the other in soothing circles with my palm. And then, without warning, I spanked her again, once, twice, three times, and each smack was harder than the last, and she was moaning, shifting her hips, shrieking with the smacks and moaning in between them.

  "Harder."

  "Harder?"

  "You hit like a bitch. Spank me harder." She grinned at me over her shoulder. "Is that what you wanna hear? Spank me harder, Daddy."

  So I spanked her harder, alternating cheeks until the flesh was red and angry looking and she was gasping and writhing. And that's when I slipped two fingers inside her soaked pussy and spread her juices over her clit and rubbed the engorged flesh there until she was humping my fingers and groaning, shuddering.

  Then, when I knew she was seconds from coming, I lifted her into the back seat. "Time to go," I said, standing up.

  She stared at me, her jeans and underwear around her ankles, her skin flushed, cheeks pink, hair a mess, eyes wide, surprised, shocked, confused, still shaking. "Wait, what?"

  I shot her an evil smirk. "That's it. Time to go."

  "But--but I was--goddamn it, Brock!" she howled. "I was right there!"

  "I know."

  "And you're just gonna stop? You're going to leave me like this?"

  "Yep." I hauled in the anchor, and then dried my hands on my jeans before climbing behind the controls.

  She stayed in the back seat for a stun
ned moment, staring at me in anger. "You bastard." I glanced back, and she had two fingers between her legs. "Who needs you? I can come without you."

  I reached back and pinioned her wrist. "Nope. No coming without me, remember?"

  "Goddamn it." She shook my grip off and pulled up her thong and then her jeans. "This is your payback, huh?"

  I winked at her and clicked my tongue. "Can't put anything past you, can I?"

  She closed the door, secured the poles and tackle box, and slumped into the copilot seat. "You suck."

  I went through preflight, and then started the engine and took off. When we were airborne and heading back toward Ketchikan, I shot a look at her. "You like being spanked."

  She gave me a dirty glare. "Yeah, well, see if I let you do that again."

  I laughed. "Oh, you'll let me."

  She lifted one eyebrow. "You think so?"

  "I know so."

  She crossed her arms over her boobs and huffed. "Fuck you."

  "I keep my promises, Claire. You cheated, and I got you back. You want me to finish you off? I can have you coming all over my fingers in seconds. Slip those pants down and I'll show you how fast I can make you come."

  "But?"

  I shrugged. "But you have to agree that you cheated and that it doesn't count. I won't ask about anything again if you really don't want me to, but you have to promise that you'll talk to me, that you won't keep things bottled up like you have been."

  "Why are you pushing this so hard?"

  "Because you mean more to me than just about anyone on this planet, and I know you're feeling things you're not expressing, but you're too damn headstrong and stubborn to talk about it. You'd rather push it all down and pretend it doesn't affect you. And when it comes down to it, you don't really trust me."

  "I do too trust you," she argued.

  "Then talk to me."

  "I don't know how." She unbuckled the five-point seat belt, unbuttoned her jeans and shoved them along with her thong down around her knees. "Now--finish me off."

  "Apologize for cheating and I will."

  She sucked in a deep breath, closing her eyes in supreme irritation, and then let out the breath and met my gaze. "Fine." She lifted her chin. "Brock, I apologize for cheating. Can you forgive me?"

  I held the aircraft steady with one hand and reached over with my other hand, dipping my middle finger inside her and then pulling it out to flick my fingertip against her clit. "I forgive you, Claire."

  She moaned, and then sucked in a sharp breath, throwing her head back and closing her eyes in bliss. "My ass hurts so bad it's hard to sit down."

  "I liked seeing your tight little ass all red and splotchy."

  Her eyes flicked open. "That was the hottest fucking thing I've experienced in a long time."

  "You like it when I spank you, don't you?"

  She lifted her shirt up to pinch and roll her nipples between her fingers. "Fuck yes."

  "You want me to bend you over my bed and fuck you from behind while I spank you, don't you?"

  "I want that so bad, Brock!" She was writhing in the seat, grinding against my flicking fingertip. "I want you to spank me until I beg you to stop and then I want you to fuck me doggy style and keep spanking me. I want to feel your big hard hand on my ass cheeks, and I want to be so sore I can't sit for days, because every time I sit down I'll think about you spanking me and fucking me."

  My cock was raging inside my jeans, bent double against the zipper, aching. "Fucking hell, Claire. You're such a dirty girl."

  "Brock, baby--" She broke off to moan breathily, rolling her nipples between her fingers, riding the edge of orgasm. "You have no idea how dirty I can be, Brock. No fucking idea--oh god, oh god, oh god!"

  She thrashed, fucking herself on my fingers, screaming like a banshee as she came. By this point, I was so hard inside my jeans that it was actually painful. Once Claire was finished coming, I tugged at the zipper of my jeans so my dick could straighten out a little bit. The movement caught Claire's eye, and she reached for me, still breathing hard.

  "I feel like maybe it should be your turn, huh?" she said.

  I put both hands on the yoke. "I wouldn't stop you."

  She reached into my jeans and pulled my cock out. "You liked spanking me as much I liked being spanked, I take it?"

  I nodded as she stroked me lazily in one hand. "Hell yeah, I did."

  "What made you do it?" She rubbed her thumb over the tip, smearing pre-come. "I didn't think you were the kinky type."

  "I'm not typically. But I was so pissed at you I thought about spanking you as a punishment, and I realized you'd probably just like it, and then I couldn't get that image out of my head."

  She met my gaze, her fist gliding loosely around my shaft, her touch gentle, affectionate, unhurried. "Well, I don't approve of you punishing me, but I do approve of being spanked like that. Feel free to take me over your knee whenever you want. I might protest, but that's half the fun, right?"

  "You totally earned it and you know it."

  "I don't like being pushed, Brock. I'll talk when I'm ready, if I'm ever ready. Some things are just..."

  "Off-limits?"

  "No," she said, slipping her other hand into my pants to cup my balls. "Some things are hard for me to even think about in my own head, much less talk about. This is one of those things. I may not ever be able to really talk about it, and pushing me is just going to piss me off."

  "I get that, and I respect that. But don't bullshit me, okay? Don't block me out and don't fuck with me. Like when you tried to use sex to get out of going to the hospital. That shit doesn't fly with me."

  "Sometimes you don't listen to me, and I have to get your attention somehow."

  I was finding it hard to focus on the conversation and flying at the same time. "I don't listen to you when what you're saying is bullshit."

  Now both of her hands were around my shaft, slowly pumping, and her eyes were on my cock, and her tongue was sliding back and forth across her lower lip, an adorable little signal of hers that she was getting ready to use her mouth. Adorable, but also a Pavlovian thing for me, as in, when I saw that tongue stick out and lick her lower lip like that, my already-hard cock went even harder because I knew I was about to get her hot wet mouth on me.

  Oh...yep. There she went. She set aside the headset and bent over me, and I hissed and clenched my fists around the yoke as she took me into her mouth, her wet heat sinking around me.

  One of the first things I learned about Claire was that she had absolutely zero gag reflex. None. And this was something she was always very eager to demonstrate on me. Imagine my shock, that first night together, when she got me hard and spent a few minutes using her hands, and then had bent over me and took my cock into her mouth, and then just kept taking. I mean, I'm a pretty well-endowed guy and she's a pretty petite girl, and I was in no way expecting or anticipating her to take even half of it when she started sucking.

  But she'd glanced up at me with a little grin, as if she knew she was about to blow my mind, and then she'd sunk her mouth down my shaft until her lips touched my balls and her nose bumped my belly, and I wasn't even sure where it all was, or how she was capable of such a feat. She didn't always deep throat me, though. She liked to save it for when she really wanted to make it special.

  Like now. She cupped my balls in her hands and massaged my taint--one of her favorite things to do to me, for some reason--and then, with that hot little smirk, she took me all the way.

  "Holy fuck," I groaned.

  She bobbed on me slowly, backing away a little farther every time, and then taking me to the hilt again. She had me flexing, groaning, and her mouth was suctioned around the head, her tongue sliding against me, sucking hard. I hissed, feeling the orgasm rising in me.

  "Gonna come soon," I warned.

  And now, with my warning, she deep throated me and then backed off until I popped free of her mouth, and she licked the tip, and then took me all the way again. And again
. And again. Faster and faster. No hands, just my cock sliding wet and slick past her lips until I felt the pressure boiling inside me, hot and wild and undeniable, and I groaned, letting my hips flex.

  "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck--" I snarled, my eyes narrowing, need blasting through me. "Now, Claire...I'm gonna come--right now."

  She didn't slow down; if anything, she sped up. Took me as deep as I'd go, and then as I released she backed away, taking my come in her mouth and swallowing it with a loud gulp before sinking down on me again, eyes wide, nostrils flaring, tongue flicking and flitting and licking and swirling. Another hard blast wrenched through me, and now she backed away to wrap her lips around the head and sucked hard as I groaned and flexed and kept coming. She swallowed frantically, her fists around my cock sliding and pumping as her mouth sucked, and I felt myself getting dizzy from the power of the orgasm she'd pulled out of me.

  I forced myself to focus, to keep the craft steady in the air, keeping the nose up and the wings level.

  "Goddamn, Claire."

  She lifted up, and a droplet of my come slid down from the corner of her mouth. I wiped it with my thumb, and she grabbed my hand, licking my thumb, then pumped my cock a few times until more come seeped out, and she licked that away too, as if savoring the last of an ice-cream cone, and then she tucked me away and re-zipped and buttoned me.

  Claire sat up and donned the headset. "It never ceases to amaze me how much semen you produce, Brock," she said, buckling up once more.

  "You do it to me, babe."

  "To you, or for you?"

  I shrugged. "Both."

  A few minutes of silence, and then she glanced at me. "I really am sorry, Brock."

  "I know. It's okay. Just be real with me, okay?"

  "I'm trying."

  The rest of the flight back was normal, with normal conversation, normal silences, everything totally normal.

  And yet...I still had an uneasy feeling.

  Chapter 8

  Claire

  Dru, Mara, and I were in the "family booth" at Badd's, the one closest to the kitchen and the service bar. It was the one booth in the bar that was always reserved for family and friends who weren't working and who wanted to hang out, It was a popular spot in the evenings, especially on the weeknights when Badd's wasn't as busy. There were always at least two or three people in the booth, and usually more than that squeezed in, with a pitcher of beer or a bottle of something going around. Tonight was a weekend, so all hands were on deck--all the brothers were working: Zane, Sebastian, and Brock were behind the bar, and Bax was at the door carding, the twins and Lucian were waiting tables, and Xavier was in the kitchen slinging booze food.