Hardass (Bad Bitch)

by Christina Saunders

  Whatever air was in the room seemed to have moved away from me, impossibly out of reach. His mouth was a sumptuous lure, and I caught a view of the dark hair along his chest disappearing into his shirt. Even though he’d tasted me and more, I felt shy, as if we were strangers who’d happened across each other and found an unlikely connection.

  The server walked up and eased the tension. He didn’t give us any menus, simply asked if we had any food allergies and handed Wash a wine list.

  “Do you have a preference in wine?” Wash asked.

  “Lynch Lane.” I snorted.

  The server nodded. “We have two wines on our lists handpicked by Jasmine Lynch.”

  I laughed. “I was joking. But really, Jasmine picked wines for this restaurant?”

  Wash crinkled his forehead and gave me a quizzical gaze. I realized he likely had no idea who I was talking about.

  “Oh, Terrell’s mom. You know, the Lynches? He usually snags some bottles from Lynch Lane for us. The good stuff. It’s how I manage to get snookered every other night of the week, twice on Sundays.”

  His smile grew the more I rambled on about apparently needing to go through a twelve-step program.

  “We’ll take the Pinot Noir Jasmine chose.” Wash handed the wine list back to our server.

  Once the server turned to leave, I whispered, “Aren’t we going to order?”

  “No. They just serve up whatever the chef decided to cook for the evening. The anticipation of the unknown is part of the pleasure, I suppose.”

  “Yes, I could see that.” Did he want me to think about the anticipation of what would happen after dinner? If so, it was working. Despite the fancy restaurant, my pussy was not on its best behavior, already wetting my thong. Wash had that effect on me, especially when he looked like he did tonight. Relaxed, happy, handsome.

  The server returned and poured our wine. I took a sip and, yes, Jasmine’s taste was impeccable, just like her son’s. If I’d been at home with Terrell, we’d already be at war over who got to drain the bottle. Here, I tried to take it slow. One ladylike sip, and I set my glass down.

  “You can drink all you want, Caroline.” Wash took a gulp, as if to goad me. “I saw you home from the bar last night, remember?”

  I squinted at him. “Yeah, I heard how you offered several times to put me to bed.”

  He laughed and put his arm along the back of my chair. “I was just trying to look after you. Nothing wrong with that, right?”

  Emboldened, I grabbed my glass and matched his gulp, the wine tart and perfect on my tongue. “Trying to put an associate to bed? You’ve been courting an EEOC complaint for weeks, Mr. Granade.”

  “Have I, Ms. Montreat?” He gave me his wolfish smile, the one that set my core on fire, and slid a hand under the table and onto my leg.

  His palm was warm, smooth on my bare thigh. I raised my eyebrows and took another swallow of wine. “This is what I was talking about, Mr. Granade.”

  “What?” He poured more wine for both of us with his free hand. “Just spending time with you and buying you a nice dinner? That’s going to land me in hot water with the EEOC?”

  “Yes and what you did in my offi—”

  He moved his fingers farther up my thigh, and my thoughts went whirling like leaves in the wind for a moment.

  “Please go on.” He leaned closer, his fingertips massaging my skin with light pressure. Sensations vibrated up my leg and throughout my body. “Tell me about my workplace violations in detail.”

  I gawked at him. “You want me t-to remind you of your handbook and federal law violations?”

  His lashes lowered as he moved closer, his gaze on my lips. “Yes. Tell me exactly what I did that you find inappropriate. It’s the only way I’ll learn, you see, Ms. Montreat.”

  His fingers played their own rhythm against my skin, lulling me and igniting me at the same time. I glanced around, certain the other diners knew what we were doing.

  “Don’t look at them. Look at me.” His voice was commanding.

  My gaze went right where he wanted, back to his sparkling eyes.

  “Now, tell me, Ms. Montreat. Refresh me on my bad behavior.” His voice was insistent, his fingers more so.

  “You were inappropriate in my office. And then at Mr. Palmer’s house. Mmm.”

  His fingers moved higher, the back of his hand pushing my dress out of the way as he went. “No, Ms. Montreat. As you know, these sorts of allegations have to be very specific to be taken seriously. I’ll need details to properly write up a formal complaint. What did I do to you in your office that warrants disciplinary action?”

  I bit my lip and closed my eyes as he edged closer to my panties. The restaurant faded around me and I was there on my desk again, his head between my thighs, my nails digging into the papers on my desk.

  “Y-you ate my pussy.” It was a breathy whisper.

  He moved closer, his mouth at my ear. “What else did I do?”

  My clit was tingling, my panties getting even wetter. “You made me come.”

  “Did I? Did I make you come all over my face while I tongued your clit?” He moved higher, his fingertips brushing the wet fabric against my core. “Fuck, Ms. Montreat. Do you have any idea how wet you are?”

  I tried to close my thighs.

  “No,” he growled in my ear. “I won’t kiss you again until you ask. I didn’t make any promises about the rest of you, Ms. Montreat. These legs stay open. Understand?”

  I nodded, and he grazed my thong again with his fingers. His gentle stroke was like a sizzle of electricity against me. I wanted more. I wanted him to light me up from the inside.

  “Now, that was just the first infraction. Is that correct, Ms. Montreat?”

  “Yes. It was. There was another.”

  “Tell me about that one.” He pushed harder against my panties, and my head fell back, his voice still in my ear.

  “You fucked me at Mr. Palmer’s house.”

  His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, and he groaned as he stroked my slick folds. “I’ll need more details, Ms. Montreat. Many more.”

  “You pushed me down on the bed and you were so rough with me.”

  “How rough?”

  “You pinned me beneath you and held me down and, and . . .”

  His fingers at my clit stole my voice.

  “And what?”

  “And you fucked me until I came.”

  “Did you ask me to come inside you?” His lip teased my ear.

  “Yes.”

  He swirled his fingers around my clit. “Did you like it?”

  “I loved it. I loved every second of it.”

  “Fuck, Ms. Montreat, I think you may have a claim after all.” He moved his fingers down and pressed one inside me.

  A strangled whimper caught in my throat. His breath was in my ear and he nibbled my earlobe. “You may need to add this incident to your report.” His voice was raspy, devious as he moved his finger in and out slowly.

  “I, mmm, I will.”

  Our food appeared, and Wash leaned away, though he left his fingers right where they were. The server explained the dish, but I heard none of it. I couldn’t think about anything except Wash’s finger inside me.

  Once the server had retreated, Wash pulled his fingers away and licked the one he’d put inside me clean, his eyes never leaving mine as he did it. The butterflies in my stomach decided boots-on-the-ground warfare wasn’t enough and entered the nuclear codes.

  “Perfect appetizer.” Wolf.

  I turned to my plate. It was some sort of white fish on top of a grits cake with a garnish of greens and and other vegetables. Suddenly Wash wasn’t the only thing at the table that made my mouth water.

  We dug in and ate and talked like normal people through the meal . . . well, if normal people discussed murder cases and blood-soaked wooden carvings. My mind eventually settled down, but my heart skipped at odd intervals when he looked at me a certain way. As if he knew me, the real me.
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br />   I was too stuffed for dessert, but he ordered it anyway. I was glad. It was the most delicious chocolate bread pudding I’d ever had in my life. Light and fluffy with a cream sauce that was beyond decadent.

  I placed my napkin on the table and almost knocked over my empty wineglass.

  “You in your cups, Ms. Montreat?” He smiled.

  “Please.” I gave him a limp-wristed wave. “I can hold my liquor.” Truth be told, I was tipsy.

  Wash insisted on paying the tab, and we met the chef on the way out. Wash pulled me into his side as we shook hands and thanked the chef for the excellent food. My curves melded into his hard body, and we were suddenly a cute couple, smiling and talking to the chef at a fancy restaurant. No longer the hardass and the class clown, we’d become something else for the night. Would we change back at midnight?

  He led me into the lobby and, instead of turning toward the front door, headed for the elevator.

  “What are we doing?” Excitement coursed through my veins like jet fuel.

  “I got a room for the evening. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. But I would like to show you the view before you go, if that’s all right?” He never stopped his confident stride as he smiled down at me.

  I affected a scandalized tone. “Well, of all the presumptuous, self-centered, overconfident things you could do, Mr. Granade.” I toned down to a stage whisper. “Is there more wine up there?”

  He laughed and ran his hand down to my hip, pulling me into him. “Yes, but I don’t want you drunk. I want you more than capable of consenting.” He kissed my hair. “And remembering everything I’m going to do to you.”

  Fuuuuck. It wasn’t a good idea to get on the elevator with him. I did it anyway. It was a worse idea to let him push me against the wall and run his hands along my body until I moaned. I did it gladly. The worst idea of all—walking into the penthouse suite with him and being utterly entranced by the view of the French Quarter. Done and done.

  He opened one of the glass doors to a patio, and we stepped out. Jazz wafted through the streets, and the smell of beignets or some other sugary food was heavy on the air. The river was down the street, the water glinting in the moonlight. He came up behind me and wrapped me in his arms as I soaked in the city.

  “You like it?” He nuzzled into my hair.

  “This is beautiful. The last time I was this close to Bourbon Street I was flashing my—” I cut myself off, barely. “I mean, I was just sightseeing, you know. Usual stuff.”

  He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest and into my shoulder blades. He let go of my waist with one hand and drew my hair from my neck. When his breath played over my skin, I sighed, the sound carrying everything I wanted from him and worried about in one note.

  “You don’t have to stay.” His fingers tightened into my hip, and he nipped at my shoulder with his teeth.

  “I want to.”

  “You sure?” He tugged at my hair, pulling my head to the side and sending his warm breath down my neck, chill bumps erupting along my skin. He still hadn’t kissed me. He’d kept his word.

  I leaned into him, his hard length pressing into my lower back.

  His hand traveled from my hip to my breast. He palmed me, squeezing the mound. My heart raced, and I put my hand over his as he kneaded me.

  “God, Wash.” It was an exhale of pure desire. I wanted him so badly I was certain I’d do anything he asked right then and there.

  He turned me so quickly I would have fallen if it weren’t for his arms around me. He leaned in, his lips so close to mine I could almost taste the heady wine lingering on his tongue.

  “I want you, Caroline. I want you so badly I can’t even think sometimes.”

  My heart tripped over itself so hard I thought it might be down for the count.

  “Can I have you? Can I have you tonight?” His voice was a deep rasp, and his gaze darted to my lips.

  I couldn’t look away from him. Nothing could have ripped me from his grasp. I was lost. He’d won. “Kiss me.”

  He crushed me in a burning kiss, his lips firm and his tongue exploring. If he’d held me any closer, I would have been on the other side of him.

  I twined my arms around his neck and opened wider for him, giving him every bit of access he demanded.

  He groaned into my mouth and gripped my ass, lifting me so that I wrapped my legs around him. My heels clattered to the deck as he walked me through the suite and into what I assumed was the bedroom. I was too busy enjoying his mouth. The way he kissed was something that should be taught as a freshman requirement. I didn’t want to breathe if it meant I wouldn’t get to feel his lips anymore.

  He laid me down and settled on top of me, his hands moving to my face and into my hair. When he broke our kiss and moved down my throat, I clutched his hair and tried to bring him back. “Patience, Caroline.” He ignored my tugs and licked the line of my collarbone until he came to the fabric of my dress. He got to his knees and sat back. “Off. Take it off.”

  He unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes attuned to every movement I made as his fingers worked fast and sure. I wriggled the hem up my hips. When he saw my panties, his fingers slipped past a button.

  “Jesus. Faster. I want to see all of you.” He attacked the buttons with renewed vigor as I sat up and pulled the dress over my head.

  He put his palm on my chest and pushed me back down before whipping his shirt into the floor. His chest was broad with dark hair running down the center and into his jeans. I reached up to touch him, but he gripped my hand and pinned it over my head. He kissed me roughly and sat back.

  “Don’t move. I just want to look at you.” He unbuttoned his pants, and I licked my lips. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

  His words were like a shot of heroin, euphoric.

  “Did you wear these for me?” He ran a finger under the lace along my hip.

  I smiled and looked away, suddenly shy. “Maybe.”

  He gripped my chin and turned it back to him. “Maybe?”

  I squirmed under his demanding gaze. “Definitely.”

  “That’s better. I love them.” He smoothed his fingertips down my thigh. “Now let’s take them off.” He gripped my panties and yanked them down so fast I yelped, then pulled them off my legs and tossed them aside. “Bra off, Caroline.”

  I arched my back up and unclasped the closure before sliding the bra off and tossing it to join my panties. I was totally naked beneath him. He shucked his jeans and boxers and spread my legs, his gaze devouring every inch of me as he did so. He leaned over me and wrapped his hand around my throat, squeezing a little before releasing me and running his fingertips down my chest, down my quivering stomach, and to my pussy.

  His cock was reddened with blood, hard and ready. I closed my eyes at the thought of it inside me.

  He ghosted his thumb over my clit and my hips bucked. He did it again and I was already on the verge of begging him to fuck me.

  “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t walk straight all weekend, Caroline. Is that okay with you? I won’t be able to stop myself. So I want you to know now, before I begin. I know I can’t control myself with you. Just fucking look at you.” His voice shook at the end, whether with pent-up need or something else, I didn’t know. His whole body was tight—his chest, his jaw, his abs tense to the point of trembling.

  All I knew was that I wanted him in every way one person could want another. I met his gaze. “I want it. All of it. Just like you said.”

  He fell on top of me and grabbed a fistful of my hair, pouring kerosene on the fire that already raged inside me. His words in my ear made me gasp. So simple, but so much more. Possession.

  “You’re mine.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wash

  She’d been spread out before me like the most delicious feast. Her tits large and round, the nipples hard and begging for attention. Her soft curves leading down to her glistening pussy, her creamy skin and succulent thighs. I was in he
aven. Or I was about to be balls deep in it.

  Her blond hair was spread across the pillow, and her eyes, God, her eyes, drew me in like nothing ever had before. I wanted to be all over her, to fuck her so good that she never wanted another man. It wasn’t rational, it wasn’t even practical, but she affected me to the point I turned into the lowest common denominator of man. I wanted her all to myself.

  When she’d said she wanted all of me, everything, I couldn’t hold back. She was mine. I gripped her silky hair and kissed her throat, leaving my mark and daring her to say something about it. All I heard was soft moans, the sounds echoing in my mind and making my dick impossibly harder. I moved my hips against her, and when my tip brushed against her slick heat, I groaned.

  Her pussy was soft and bare, and I wanted nothing more than to be inside her. She ran her nails along my scalp, pulling on my hair. I bit into her shoulder and she squealed. My cock jerked to attention, raring for the starting gun. Not yet.

  I kissed down to a pert nipple and licked around it, teasing the tip even harder as I circled. She dug her nails harder into my scalp, but I liked the pain, liked that I made her wild. I finally took the tip in my mouth and sucked hard. She gasped and arched her back. Her skin tasted faintly sweet, maybe her lotion. I wanted to lick her all over, not just her tits. But my cock was already leaking precum. I couldn’t hold out long enough to worship her gorgeous body. Later. She arched again when I drew her other nipple into my mouth and bit down on it.

  I bit harder, and she gasped, “Wash.”

  I loved it when she said my name with that breathy sex voice. She had no idea what she did to me. Her confidence, her smarts, her sense of humor, her amazing body. She was too much. Even so, I had to have her.

  I kissed back up to her plump lips and pressed my mouth into hers. I could have kissed her for hours, just running my hands along her body and making her moan into me. My cock was not on board with that plan. I rocked my hips against her and moved my head against her, our wetness mixing as she cried into my mouth.

  Pulling her hands from my hair, I pinned her to the bed. I wanted her vulnerable, open to me. She didn’t struggle, not yet. I pushed inside her the slightest bit, her body constricting around me.