Brock's Hellion

by Nicole Austin

  Brock’s Hellion

  Nicole Austin

  A book in the Corralled series.

  Brock is cool, calm and in control. Except when it comes to the feisty hellion who pushes all his buttons for the sheer fun of watching his patience snap. Far worse than the intense desire to choke her is the alarming, all-consuming compulsion to tie Tink to his bed and fuck her into next week.

  Tink is no wimpy damsel waiting for a big, strong man to rescue her or take over her life. Oh, hell no. She does her own thing, her own way, when she damn well feels like it. The last thing she wants or needs is some overbearing man bossing her around. Though she’d like to torture him with pleasure.

  One night of explosive passion—starting with smokin’-hot lovin’ involving three men and one lucky woman—pushes Brock’s restraint past the limit. And hidden behind the cold-hearted bitch, he discovers a woman who longs to surrender to a man she can trust.

  Come hell or high water, he’s going to be that man.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Brock’s Hellion

  ISBN 9781419931468

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Brock’s Hellion Copyright © 2010 Nicole Austin

  Edited by Jillian Bell

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication December 2010

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Brock’s Hellion

  Nicole Austin

  Dedication

  For all the readers who patiently waited for me to find my way back to the Shooting Star ranch.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Alloy Orange: Crayola Properties, Inc.

  Atomic Tangerine: Crayola Properties, Inc.

  Barbie: Mattel, Inc.

  Bittersweet Shimmer: Crayola Properties, Inc.

  Disneyland: Disney Enterprises Inc.

  Electric Lime: Crayola Properties, Inc.

  GQ: Advance Magazine Publishers Inc.

  Grumpy: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  Hoover: The Hoover Company

  Hummer: General Motors Corporation

  Illuminating Emerald: Crayola Properties, Inc.

  Jaws of Life: Hurst Performance, Inc.

  Jeep Wrangler: DaimlerChrysler Corporation

  Kryptonite: DC Comics Inc.

  Laser Lemon: Crayola Properties, Inc.

  Maverick: Warner Bros. Pictures, Inc.

  Metallic Sunburst: Crayola Properties, Inc.

  Outrageous Orange: Crayola Properties, Inc.

  Penthouse: General Media Communications, Inc.

  Pocket Rocket: Health Devices Corporation

  Purple Pizzazz: Crayola Properties, Inc.

  Radical Red: Crayola Properties, Inc.

  Screamin’ Green: Crayola Properties, Inc.

  Stetson: John B. Stetson Company

  Tinkerbell: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  Prologue

  “Unfuckingbelievable!”

  Brock Madden slammed his fist on the dashboard. He’d been outwitted by two meddling women. Tamara and Van were going to pay when he caught up with them. This whole thing was supposed to be about Jesse. The poor schmuck had wandered around the ranch in a depressed haze for too long.

  An intervention had been Riley’s idea. Brock mentally added the damn prankster to the top of his shitlist for stranding him with the one woman who had the power to drive him to drink. Prunella Lucretia St. Claire-Fitzmoore, better known as Tink.

  He privately referred to her by many names, including psycho bitch.

  They’d all joined forces to help two of their friends get back together. Tink had been recruited to get Kate to the remote cabin. Jesse had been given a tall tale about Savannah purchasing a new horse and gone along to help transport the animal. Brock wasn’t completely sure how he’d become part of the equation, but now understood that he’d been played.

  “Turn right,” he instructed when they reached the highway.

  “Uh-uh. I’m heading east,” Tink informed him.

  The obstinate witch made him want to pull out his hair and scream like a madman. He glanced at her long blonde locks, streaked with shades of red from pink to burgundy, and got a better idea. He’d pull on her hair while thrusting his cock into that foul yet gorgeous mouth. Yeah, that would shut her up. With her lips stretched wide over his dick she wouldn’t be half as annoying.

  “Look, Pruney—”

  Whap!

  She’d let go of the steering wheel and before he saw it coming, slapped his cheek so hard his ears rang. “Don’t ever call me that.”

  “Okay, Tink,” he ground out from between clenched teeth. “Be reasonable. Denver is a full day’s drive. The ranch is only a couple of hours away. If we go to the Shooting Star you can get rid of me quicker.”

  “True.” The car idled at the crossroads as she considered the dilemma. “Or I could dump your ass at the first gas station we find, thus expediting your departure from my car, Tex.”

  There she went with the Tex bullshit again. “I am not from Texas!”

  “Whatever.” She waved her hand in the air dismissively. “If you prefer dick, it’s fine with me. Or maybe shithead. But asshole probably fits best.”

  Blood boiled in his veins and Brock’s vision turned red. Anger was good. He was prepared to deal with the intense desire to choke the shit out of the hellion. What he had a difficult time with was the alarming, all-consuming compulsion to tie Tink to his bed and fuck her into next week.

  It was beyond reason—difficult to control. His cock lengthened, eager to abandon the confines of his jeans and invade the warm clasp of her pussy.

  He tugged at his hat and rubbed his jaw with a clenched fist. There must be some inherent flaw in his DNA. Had to be. What other possibility was there? Unless…maybe it was a mental defect. There wasn’t any history of mental illness in his family. That meant squat though if he was deranged. Maybe he was bipolar or had the dual personality thing like Sybil. It would explain the dichotomy of both hating and desiring her.

  Yup, a majorly warped mental psychosis made sense. Pretty scary stuff to be relieved by the realization you’re insane as an explanation for being attracted to someone. Only attraction was too simple of a word. What he felt for Tink was closer to obsessive lust.

  Of course, right now they had to get moving in one direction or another. Once their duplicity was discovered, all hell would break loose.

  “How ’bout we drop the name-calling and get the hell out of here befo
re Jesse and Kate come after us.”

  Tink drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and refused to budge. Lame-ass Tex with his Neanderthal attitude did insane things to her. In the resultant shock wave of finding he’d been stranded at the cabin too, she hadn’t protested when he climbed into her car. After all, she didn’t want to mess up the intervention they’d painstakingly arranged for Jesse and Kate.

  Tamara must have had something to do with this bullshit. The more Tink thought about it, the more convinced she became. The woman was devious. She admired the trait, but how Tamara had known something brewed between her and Tex was anyone’s best guess. Maybe Kate had inadvertently given the others some clue.

  From the moment she’d met Brock they’d shared an instant mutual dislike and set out to aggravate each other. The two of them were proof positive that opposites attract in a big way. They couldn’t get within fifty feet of each other without scorching hot arcs of electricity sparking insatiable desire that raged out of control. The weird combination of hate and lust was confusing and something she didn’t handle well.

  Right now she had two options. Drive like the wind and get rid of the big pain-in-the-ass or rip off his clothes and ride the cowboy until the fires burning between them subsided. Her mind screamed for the former while her body ached for the later.

  Her nipples were hard pebbled points. With each breath her lacy bra abraded them, sending tingling jolts of desire into her abdomen. Her pussy lips were swollen and slick. In fact, if she got any wetter there would be a huge stain on the car seat.

  Left or right? This uncharacteristic indecision made her antsy and cranky.

  If she headed toward home, she still had the option of losing him somewhere or taking him captive. Visions of tying him to her bed and riding him to satiation flashed in her head. The man was built from stone—all hard, rippling muscle under tanned skin. Mapping each bulge and dip over his chiseled flesh with her tongue would provide days of delicious distraction. And he had the cutest mustache. Maybe she’d take a ride on that. She had never been with a man who had a mustache before.

  If she headed toward the ranch, the same two options existed. Leave him there and haul ass or maybe let him tie her to his bed. She’d bet high stakes Brock knew many delightful ways to play with rope.

  The ranch was sounding better by the minute. Hell, Kate had prattled on endlessly about all the eye candy on the Shooting Star. There were several virile, strapping cowboys who might be capable of slaking her lust. Maybe a bit of group action could be arranged. Talk about juicy fantasies…wow!

  Decision made, she shifted the car into gear and spun the wheel clockwise.

  The time had come to cowboy up. Yeehaw!

  Chapter One

  “Are we there yet?”

  Tink was bored, tired and had surpassed cranky an hour ago. She kicked at a rock in her path. Even watching the rock roll down the dusty road would be entertaining at this point, but it turned out to be a stupid move considering the open-toed sandals she wore.

  “Owww, fuck me!” A sharp edge slashed into her big toe, further irritating her already-aching feet. They must have been walking for hours.

  “Right here? On the side of the road?” Brock’s tone was incredulous. “Never suspected you’d be into exhibitionism.”

  “Bite me!”

  “My pleasure.”

  Why the hell did he have to take everything so damn literally? “Humph. In your dreams, Tex.”

  “You couldn’t handle the things I’d ask of you, little girl.”

  Tink snorted. “Bring it on.” She had no doubt playing with Tex would be fun.

  He stopped, moved right into her personal space and stared deeply into her eyes. “I’d demand your complete surrender to my will.” His warm breath fanned across her cheek and gooseflesh rose on her arms despite the warmth of the sun shining down on them.

  “I’d tie you up, Dominate you and expect you to follow my every command without hesitation. Going against me would result in punishment.”

  Heat washed through her body as Tink imagined giving him such power over her. It sounded…freeing, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—willingly give any man that level of control. And punishment?

  “What kind of punishment?”

  His nostrils flared and that mesmerizing green stare made her knees go rubbery.

  “Depends on the infraction. That sassy mouth of yours is liable to earn you a spanking. Possibly orgasm denial. Do you know what that entails?”

  Speechless, Tink shook her head.

  “I’d build you up, use my fingers and tongue, maybe some toys. Take you right to the edge of amazing pleasure…then leave you hanging. Over and over, I’d drive you out of your mind until you cry and beg. But I won’t let you come. Not until I’m good and ready.”

  Sweet Jesus! His words and the images they evoked should not have her longing for everything he said. No way. She wasn’t that weak. “You’re talking about torture.”

  “No, darlin’. There’s a big difference between Dominance, submission and torture. I’m not into inflicting pain.”

  She swallowed, hard. At least that was reassuring, because she wasn’t into receiving pain. But submit to another’s will? Not happening. Her spine stiffened and she defiantly met his stare. “I don’t submit to anyone.”

  His taut posture relaxed a bit and she had the distinct feeling she’d somehow disappointed him. “Which is why you couldn’t handle me.”

  Her pride wouldn’t allow that one to go unanswered. “Ha! You couldn’t handle me because I’d take back the power and beat you at your own games. Tie you to my bed and suck your cock until you begged to come.”

  Brock grumbled something under his breath. Probably a good thing she didn’t catch what he’d said. Would’ve either pissed her off or turned her on even more. And damn it, now he’d sparked her curiosity. The possibilities of everything he’d described were going to fill her thoughts and haunt her imagination endlessly.

  “Let’s just keep moving,” he grumbled. “I’d like to get home sometime today.”

  This mess was all her fault. With a gas station on almost every corner in Denver, she never checked the gauge, relying on the idiot light to tell her when she needed to refuel. But when the light had gone off out in the middle of nowhere it was already too late.

  Too stubborn to say anything, she’d chewed on her lip and prayed for some sign of civilization. Once she ’fessed up, the lecture she’d received from bossy Mister Know-It All hadn’t helped the situation any. All it did was drive home how stupid she’d been, and she’d figured that out on her own before his tirade.

  As they continued to walk her mind replayed everything he’d said. Was he really into all that BDSM stuff that Kate had told her Jesse practiced? She didn’t know much about it but had figured BDSM involved some slap and tickle and role-playing.

  The more she thought about letting Brock tie her up the hotter she became. Walking grew increasingly difficult. Her nipples pebbled and each movement chafed the tender buds against her bra. Her clit pulsed, aching for release. She really needed a distraction.

  “How much farther?”

  “A few miles. Just shut up and walk.”

  Jerk! She was tired of walking and sick of him. Brock could keep going but she was taking a break. Saturdays were supposed to be her day to relax. Their endless trek had gotten real old, real fast.

  Tink glanced around. Only miles of dirt road, grass and trees. Wherever the Shooting Star ranch was located they weren’t getting to it anytime soon.

  “To hell with this!”

  She spotted an inviting shade tree a short distance from the road. Looked like a good place to cop a squat for a while. Kicking off her shoes, Tink dropped onto her butt and leaned back against the wide trunk, sighing in relief.

  Ah, nice. Peaceful.

  She crossed her legs and closed her eyes. A gentle breeze ruffled her long hair, cooling her neck.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” />
  Well, it had been nice. She should have known the pushy cowboy wouldn’t keep walking and leave her be.

  “Gee, I don’t know. What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “Sitting on your fat ass—”

  “What!” she screeched. Her eyes snapped open and she gave Brock her meanest, bitchiest glare. The one that made most people cower and run. Not him though. He glared right back. “My ass is not fat.”

  “Whatever.” He shrugged. “Get up. I don’t want to be out here on the road when it gets dark. We’re gonna keep walkin’.”

  “No!”

  “No? No!” His voice got louder each time he repeated the word. “Dammit!” He pulled off his Stetson, raked his fingers through thick brown hair then settled the hat back in place. Her fingers itched to be the ones sifting through the silky mass. “You have any idea what kinda animals come out after dark?”

  Tink closed her eyes again. “I don’t care and I’m not afraid. You go ahead. I’ll be perfectly fine on my own. Besides, it’s not even noon yet.”

  “Uh-uh. While the ranch may only be about a twenty-minute drive from here, walking it will take four or five hours. And do you care that once the sun goes down the temperature is going to drop about twenty-five degrees? In late October the days may be nice but the nights are cold.”

  She shivered. Considering it was only about sixty degrees under the midday sun, it would be one heck of a cold night. One she wasn’t prepared for. Since the plan had been to spend the day driving, she’d dressed for comfort in thin yoga pants and a short-sleeve T-shirt.

  “I’ll be fine,” she defiantly stated.

  Big hands closed over her upper arms and yanked her upward. She yelped and her eyes shot open only to find herself suspended over the ground, nose-to-nose with one pissed-off cowboy. Tink quivered, undeniably turned-on by his brutish behavior.