The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild

by Jessica Clare

  Grant ran a hand along her ass, then groaned again as he slid his fingers between her legs, testing her. “God, you’re so wet. Wet and open.”

  She moaned into the pillows at his touch. “Told you I’d been thinking about this all day. You didn’t believe me?”

  His fingers slicked into her wetness, plunging into her pussy. “And this is from touching me in the car?”

  Brenna cried out at the sensation, shifting her stance so she could spread wider for him. “You don’t think . . . I can get like this . . . from touching you?” Her voice came out in little gasps.

  “So is it touching me that makes you wet? Or just harassing me?” His fingers slicked in and out, and she was so wet that she could hear the movements of his fingers just as much as she felt them, and it turned her on all over again.

  “Little from column A, little from column B,” she told him breathlessly. Her hips ground against his fingers when he thrust again, pushing him a bit deeper.

  The hand on her neck lifted for a moment, and when he pulled his fingers from her pussy with a wet sound, she cried out in protest.

  “Stay there,” he told her.

  “So bossy.” Her voice sounded ragged with lust. “That’s sexy.” And she did as she was told, because damn, a bossy Grant was kind of turning her crank.

  She heard the sound of a condom package ripping and some shuffling clothing, and then in the next minute, that hand was pressing back down on her neck again, even as she felt his hips brush against hers once more. She tensed in anticipation.

  Grant slammed into her from behind, seating himself to the hilt deep inside her.

  Brenna cried out, the sensation nearly overwhelming her. “Oh Grant,” she moaned. “Oh yeah. Do that again.”

  “Goddamn you, Brenna,” he bit out, and slammed into her again. “You’re supposed to fucking hate being used,” he told her, and thrust hard again. “Not fucking eat it up.” Thrust again. And then he began to hammer into her from behind, as if all control had gone out the wayside.

  And oh God, Grant losing control? Made her wild. She felt her body ripple in a shudder of excitement, and then her pussy followed. To her surprise, she was coming hard and fast. She tightened around him and whimpered when he bit out another curse, plunging into her harder and faster, her body pinned under him as she quaked in a violent orgasm.

  And then he growled out her name, and she felt him clenching up against her, the impossibly rough pounding slowing down until he was gradually moving in and out of her with leisurely strokes. He’d come, but for some reason he hadn’t stopped moving. His hand moved under her T-shirt to stroke her lower back. And he breathed her name. “Brenna.”

  “Mmmm,” she said softly, acknowledging him but too blissed out to do more than that.

  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “You didn’t hear ‘ouch’ did you? I didn’t fling you off me.” She snuggled into the pillows of the couch, eyes closed, not caring that her bare ass was in the air and Grant was still on top of her. “Now be quiet. You’re harshing my post-coital buzz.”

  “Oh, were you finished?” He slid away for a moment, and she lifted her head to see him heading to a nearby garbage can and stripping off his condom. His pants were still on, though they were undone and he had to hitch them at his hips to keep them from pooling around his knees like hers were currently doing. Then he returned to where she was sprawled and helped her sit up. “I kind of thought the evening had just gotten started.”

  “Did you, now?” Okay, so she sounded more breathless than she thought she’d be. But to be fair, she’d just been fucked within an inch of her life. So if she was staring at the guy with a bit of a glazed expression on her face, she had the right. “What else did you have in mind?”

  There was a wicked little smile curving Grant’s mouth, and her entire body quivered at the sight. “Let’s play a game.”

  Naughty man. “All right. Let’s play. What kind of game?”

  He gave her a little push backward, until she was heading over the side of the couch and landing on her back, her legs in the air. She giggled at the awkward position. Legs over her head, pants still around her knees, and now she was on the couch, nestled amidst the sofa cushions.

  Grant leaned over her from the other side of the couch and said, “I want to play Make Brenna Scream.”

  She tilted her head, staring up at him. “I’m not sure if this is a good game or a bad game.”

  “Oh, it’s a good game,” he assured her, then tugged her jeans off her legs. “I promise you.”

  Brenna was intrigued. More than that, she was fascinated by this side of Grant. He’d been good in bed last night, but right now? With his assertive, domineering sexual personality? She was kind of digging this other side of him. Who knew that she’d be one of those girls who liked to be told what to do in bed? “What do I need to do for this game?”

  He gave her an arch smile that set her pulse to racing. “Why, I want you to scream, of course.”

  She looked at him warily. “You’re not going to pull out a giant paddle and start spanking me, are you?”

  “Nope. Unless you’re into that.”

  “Not all that much.”

  He nodded, and his hands went to her hips. To her surprise, he hauled her forward, until her hips were resting on the low back of the couch and thrust into the air above her. And Grant ran a hand along the back of her thigh, then pressed her leg forward. “Hold this for me, please, would you?”

  She shivered and did as she was told, but she noticed how very open it left her. His ravenous gaze fell on her slick sex, and then he extended her other leg backward. She put both of her hands behind her knees and held her legs back. This . . . was an odd position. Kinda like a yoga something or other. Her weight was on her shoulders, and her ass was in the air, her legs spread wide. With the way she was positioned, she kind of had a bird’s-eye view of her own pussy. Which was great, she supposed, if she were into that sort of thing, but she kind of preferred looking at guy parts. “So how does this game work?”

  Grant leaned forward, and his hands went to the backs of her thighs, pressing her down a bit more. “It’s simple. I’m going to lick you and play with this piercing until you scream.”

  And he gave her a wicked, wicked smile.

  She might have trembled a little at the sight of it. He leaned in and did no more than breathe close to her skin, and she shivered madly. “I think I like this game.”

  “I think you will,” Grant agreed, and his mouth moved to the mound of her sex. As she watched in fascination, his tongue dipped between the lips of her pussy and slicked over her piercing and her clit.

  She moaned. Oh God, that was erotic. Both the touch and the fact that she was watching all of this from her vantage point was really, really hot. She wanted to put her hands on his head and direct him, but she had to hold her legs back.

  Grant nuzzled in, moving deeper, and his tongue circled her piercing and her clit. He experimented a little, pinching her flesh in a way that caused her piercing to rub perfectly against her clit, and then began to lick again, flicking and caressing at that sensitive bud of flesh.

  Her body, still twitching from the last orgasm, began to quake with need. And the more she trembled, the faster he seemed to lick, clearly relishing her response. Brenna cried out as the intensity of his attentions grew more fierce, and she began to give small jerks of her hips in response, whimpering each time. She wanted to pull away; she wanted to push against his mouth. He was making low sounds of pleasure in his throat as well, as if he loved the taste of her.

  One finger slid deep into her pussy, and he curled it, stroking her from inside.

  “Grant, oh damn. I love it when you touch me like that,” Brenna moaned, unable to take her eyes off his mouth devouring her, fascinated by the occasional flash of her piercing, the constant slicking of his to
ngue. “It’s almost too much.”

  “I’ll stop when you scream,” he murmured, and she felt every movement of his lips against her flesh, which caused her to be wracked with an entirely new set of shudders.

  “I’m a lot of things, baby, but I’m not a screamer,” Brenna told him breathlessly.

  “That remains to be seen,” Grant said, and he was so smug with purpose that she was fascinated. “But I think you’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”

  “Never.”

  “Mmm.” He pinched the flesh around her piercing again, making it push against her clit once more. When she moaned and wriggled in response, he began to flick his tongue over her again, the curled finger working inside her pussy.

  She came a moment later, shattering, her leg muscles tightening so hard that she thought her entire body would snap. But the only sound she made was a soft gurgle in the back of her throat that was more of a choked cry than a real, honest-to-goodness scream.

  “Not quite,” Grant said, seemingly pleased at her response. “Guess we’ll have to try again.”

  And she moaned as he bent over her flesh again.

  The Make Brenna Scream game lasted for about fifteen minutes longer. By that time, she was insensible with desire, had orgasmed twice more, and was twitching every time he touched her. The last time she came, she came so hard that a rush of liquid flooded out of her, and Grant seemed even more pleased at eliciting that response from her. She’d screamed with that last orgasm, though, and screamed his name to boot, which seemed to satisfy Grant immensely.

  After that? She’d been too tired and sleepy to protest when he’d dragged her into the shower and supported her as she cleaned off. He’d tenderly toweled her dry and then hauled her to bed, and she could have sworn that he’d kissed her temple before drifting off to sleep.

  That was entirely too possessive of him, she’d decided. And she’d tell him so. Tomorrow, when she had the energy. Brenna rolled over and propped her head against Grant’s chest and fell asleep.

  • • •

  When Brenna woke up, she was alone in Grant’s bed. She yawned and stretched and glanced around for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Huh. Wasn’t like him. She shrugged it off. He was probably giving her the space she wanted, and she liked that. Rifling through his drawers, she found a pair of boxers and a sports T-shirt and pulled them on. Then, still yawning, she left his cabin and headed for the main lodge, since it was a work day.

  After all, just because she was having casual sex with the boss didn’t mean that she didn’t have to work.

  Brenna padded into the main lodge and went straight for the kitchen, skirting the living room. She was starving, and she was pretty sure there was some cereal somewhere in one of the cabinets, since Beth Ann insisted on having normal breakfasts and thought Brenna should, too. Sure enough, there was a box of whole grain something or other. Brenna opened the box and took a handful of cereal directly from it and popped it into her mouth. Then she went to the fridge, drank some milk directly from the carton, and paused.

  It sure was quiet for a work day. She glanced at the clock. Seven fifty-eight. That meant the guys should have been coming by, but it was too quiet. Carton of milk still in hand, Brenna took another drink and headed out into the living area of the lodge that also functioned as the main office.

  Three sets of eyes stared back at her.

  Colt. Dane. And the new guy, who sat on the couch with his arms crossed. Grant and his sister were nowhere to be seen. And Colt and Dane were frowning at her in a major way.

  Brenna took another swig of milk. “Morning.”

  Dane made a face and leapt up from his seat to rescue the carton of milk from her. “Don’t drink straight out of the carton, Brenna. That’s nasty. We all drink that milk.”

  “Why is it nasty?” she protested.

  Dane yanked the milk carton from her hand and headed to the kitchen with it. “We don’t know where your mouth has been,” he called behind him.

  “Or do we?” Colt said in a dry voice, giving her a look of reproach.

  She rolled her eyes and headed to her desk. “I take it Pop’s been here already? That man gossips more than a school girl.”

  “Well,” Colt drawled. “It’s not every day that two people who profess to hate each other start shacking up.”

  “We’re not shacking up,” she told him, exasperated. Brenna moved to the end of the couch, near where Colt sat, and thumped down. “Elise needed to borrow my blankets, so I slept over at Grant’s.”

  “And he requires kissing before letting you use one of his pillows?”

  She scowled at him. “Exactly how much did Pop tell you?” She’d known that they’d be talking about it this morning. “And where’s Grant, anyhow?”

  “Grant took Elise to get breakfast, since someone still hasn’t done grocery shopping,” Dane said cheerfully, wiping his hands as he returned to the living room. “And that milk was expired, so I tossed it. You’re welcome.”

  She made a face. “I’ll go grocery shopping soon enough. Get off my jock.”

  “You don’t have a jock. You’re a chick,” Dane said, bouncing down on the couch next to her. “And I’m glad someone went and got breakfast. I’m starving.”

  “Doesn’t Miranda feed you before she turns you loose?” Colt asked.

  “My cabin isn’t wired for electricity, remember? So unless I wanted beef jerky for breakfast, Miranda told me I was on my own.” He grinned.

  “I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to light a fire just to feed your ass Pop-Tarts,” Brenna said, elbowing him. Everyone thought it was weird that Dane preferred to go off the grid for his small cabin, but it made him happy, so whatever.

  He elbowed her back and looped a thick arm around her neck, dragging her against him in a headlock. “So, you gonna tell me and Colt how come you decided to mindfuck Grant and sleep with him?”

  She twisted the hairs on his arm to try and make him let go of her, squirming out of his grasp when he eased up. Boys. Sheesh. “I’m not mindfucking him!” After a moment, she added, “At least, it’s not his mind I’m fucking.”

  “I knew it. They’re sleeping together.” Colt shot Dane a triumphant look.

  “Damn it.” Dane reached into his pocket and slapped a five down into Colt’s outstretched hand. “I lost that bet.”

  “So fess up, Brenna. How long has this been going on?”

  “About two days.”

  Colt grunted. “Thought it’d been longer, honestly.”

  Her brows drew together. Longer? “I’m just pretending to be his girlfriend while his parents visit.”

  “Dang. You really get into character, don’t you?” Dane whistled.

  She elbowed him again, because he was getting on her nerves. “What’s the big deal? I can’t fuck a guy without everyone thinking we’re married? The eighteenth century called and they want their morals back.”

  “Again,” Colt drawled, “you don’t normally fuck someone you can’t stand.”

  Since when did everyone think she couldn’t stand Grant? Brenna glanced over at Colt, curious. She liked Grant. She liked all three men who she worked with. It was just that Grant nitpicked so very much that she felt like she had to give him a hard time. Did that mean they thought she hated him?

  Did Grant think that, too? That couldn’t be the case, because why would he start proclaiming her his girlfriend if he hated her?

  So, you gonna tell me and Colt how come you decided to mindfuck Grant and sleep with him?

  It wasn’t a mindfuck . . . was it? Suddenly irritated at both men, Brenna leapt up from the sofa . . . and realized Rome was still sitting in a chair across the room, watching them, his arms crossed over his chest. The situation probably seemed odd to him—Brenna and Dane horsing around on the couch and Colt giving her a pop quiz about her sleeping arrangements.
She rather hoped that Grant hadn’t had time to quiz him yet. She smiled brightly at Rome. “Been here long?”

  “Not long,” he said quietly.

  “Did the boys say hello?”

  Dane frowned, his handsome face a bit confused. “I thought he was the plumber and that Grant had called him. Some idiot flushed something down the toilet again, you know.”

  “A tampon,” Brenna said. At Dane’s look of horrified disgust, she explained, “For Pop. And Rome’s our new employee, not the plumber.”

  “He got good credentials?” Colt turned his narrow-eyed gaze on Rome, sizing him up. The dark skullcap of hair, the tattoos, the guarded expression on his face.

  “I don’t know, but he’s sure pretty, isn’t he?” Brenna beamed at Rome approvingly. “He’ll be perfect for the shoot Elise wants to do. Girls love a bad boy spattered with mud.”

  “Shoot?” Colt asked.

  “Mud?” Dane inquired.

  Brenna waved a hand. “Long story. I’ll tell you some other time.”

  Rome strode forward and offered his hand to Colt and Dane. “Pleased to meet you. I won’t let you down.”

  Colt grunted again. It might have been a sign of approval. You could never tell with Colt. “We’ll have to sit down and jaw sometime. For now, though, I need to head out. I’m speaking at a local elementary school.”

  Dane groaned and got to his feet. “And since we don’t have classes today, Miranda’s dragging me to go taste cakes.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Rome said.

  “It’s at a tea parlor.” Dane grimaced. “I’m picturing gray-haired old ladies sipping from china with their pinkies out. I told her she should have taken Brenna, but then her feelings got hurt, so here I am.” He shrugged. “So I’d better get going. See you guys later.” He headed out the front door, whistling.

  Colt rolled his eyes. “For all the bellyaching Dane does, you’d think he’s the most henpecked man in the world. What he doesn’t tell you is that if Miranda has so much as a tear in her eye, he loses his shit and bends over backward to make her happy.” Colt shook his head and headed toward the door.