by Shayla Black
“Does Preston have any suspects?”
“That’s a very direct question.” He teased the hard tip of her breast in his mouth while pinching the other.
Did he expect her to play a cat-and-mouse game with her words, like the one he played with her body? “It’s been forty-eight hours. Surely, he must have some suspicions about who killed Mr. Haney?”
“He does,” Josiah muttered as he dragged his lips up her neck, toward her ear. “Same suspicion I do.”
“Enlightenment Fields?” she managed to get out between heavy breaths.
“That encompasses a lot of people.”
True. “Adam Coleman is a recluse. He never gets his hands dirty. It must be some of his followers. The first one that comes to mind is—” He bit a little harder at her nipple, and she gasped. “Oh. Mercy . . .”
“I don’t have any,” Josiah promised, suddenly sliding his slick thumb over her needy clit. “Try again.”
She squirmed away from his touch. “No, I meant Mercy, that strange girl—”
“Isn’t who I want to talk about when I”—he jostled her on his lap, then tugged her closer again, this time impaling her on a pair of his outstretched digits—“have my fingers inside you. I haven’t forgotten what you sound like when you come. I want to hear that again.”
Maggie exercised herculean effort to swallow a moan and block out the tingles soaring through her body. “Answer my question, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Anything?”
Alarm bells went off in her head, and the distant, rational part of Maggie’s brain told her not to say yes. But between her need for information and her growing urge to climax, she couldn’t find the vocabulary to say anything else.
“Anything.”
“Yes, Mercy is our primary suspect, and we have absolutely no proof. Now that I’ve answered your question, lie across my lap, face down, ass where I can spank it.”
As if he knew his words would pelt her with shock waves, he rooted his fingers deeper inside, finding the spot she couldn’t resist, no way, nohow. He goaded her even more by lowering her T-shirt and bralette, then lavishing attention on her bare nipple before sucking it into the heat of his mouth.
“Josiah . . .” Maggie wasn’t sure if she was protesting his command or begging for more of his touch.
Why could this man turn her upside down, inside out, and unravel her so completely?
“What, baby? Tell me . . .”
She gripped his shoulders, holding on for dear life. “You’re supposed to tell me.”
“I did. I answered the question you said you’d do anything to have the answer to.”
“But I need more.” Maggie couldn’t help herself; she rocked her body on his big fingers.
“If you mean information, that’s not what you negotiated. If you mean pleasure, well . . . as soon as you’re done laying yourself across my lap, we can negotiate again.”
But if she did that, she’d have to withdraw from his touch, and that wasn’t something she was willing to give up, not when the stirrings of climax were burning deep and hot between her legs.
“I need you. The way you make me feel . . .” As she tightened on his digits, she bit at his lobe, breathed in his ear, kissed her way down his neck, gratified when his big body shuddered under her. “Please, Josiah.”
“Baby . . .” He bent to her, eyes sliding shut.
She was getting to him, too.
Blindly, Maggie fused her mouth to his, losing herself in his taste, in the intimacy between them. Right now, no one else existed in this world. For two minutes, what could it hurt to be a woman enjoying the touch of a man? Couldn’t the outside world wait for one hundred twenty itty-bitty seconds?
Maybe, but Josiah couldn’t. After one last curl of his tongue against hers, he backed away, his heavy breathing the only indication she affected him.
“You’re so fucking tempting and you kiss like a goddess, but none of that changes what happens next. You. Across my lap. Now.”
When he withdrew his fingers and gave her a stubborn glare, she huffed. Sure, she could protest and resist, even slap him in the face and say no. But she was too damn curious . . . and turned on.
Maggie lowered herself over his thighs, the way he’d demanded, taking care to ensure that her cursedly short skirt covered the essentials. “You’re going to spank me for bad behavior like I’m a little girl? You can’t be serious.”
She’d barely situated herself when he grabbed her wrists and immobilized them above her head, pinning her with his left hand and flipping her skirt up with his right. “Oh, I’m totally serious. Lacy panties like this are only good for seduction. You going to tell me again you had no plans to fuck Preston?”
Maggie bit back a snarky comment. He’d been burned, and that possibility would only bother him if either his ego was monstrous—which didn’t seem like the case—or he cared.
Normally, the latter possibility would scare the hell out of her. In some ways it still did, but she couldn’t deny it softened her, too. She wanted him to care.
Why? In what parallel universe was she actually interested in more than hooking up?
“I really wasn’t going to let him touch me,” she promised.
She didn’t even know why that was true. Preston was attractive enough. They were both single. He lived in Comfort. He’d clearly been on the prowl. But somehow when she’d looked at him, she just couldn’t.
Josiah’s fingers around her wrists tightened a fraction. “I should give zero fucks about what and who you do.”
But he gave many. The resignation in his voice told her that.
Against her will and better sense, her heart leapt with something that felt like thrill.
“Josiah . . .” Now she chanted his name for an entirely different reason. She ached for his hands on her, sensed that he craved this as much as she did. But it was more. Maggie wanted him to show her that what they did together mattered to him, in whatever way he needed to show her. “I’m telling the truth.”
“Goddamn it, woman.” His voice was rough, not with anger but with longing as he dragged her panties down, bracing the elastic of the waistband just under her jutting cheeks. As his palm cupped her backside, he swallowed audibly as his hot skin skimmed the curve. “Tell me I can spank you. Say it.”
This probably made her crazy, but not only was she curious, every muscle in her body was both liquid and quivering with desire. “Spank me. I want you to.”
“Thank fuck,” he muttered a moment before he raised his hand.
She’d barely registered the whoosh before the distinct sound of a slap filled her ears. A jolt of shocking sensation followed. Pain at first. Fear, too. But then the sensations morphed. Her skin went warm. The tense muscles underneath heated. Fresh tingles brewed. Her body awakened.
Maggie held her breath, anticipating his next move.
He did it again, harder. The sound echoed louder. Her suffering and delicious anxiety climbed. Then heat rippled across her skin, fired her flesh. Her clit burned, almost turning nuclear with need. Maggie found herself mewling and lifting her ass to him for more.
“Like that, do you?”
It never occurred to her to lie. “Yes.”
“Ever been spanked?” He rubbed her burning cheeks with his rough palm, withholding more stimulation until she answered.
“No.”
“Does it make you wetter?”
He couldn’t feel her on his thigh? “Yes.”
Josiah shoved her panties between her knees and fitted his hand under her to cup her pussy. “Fuck, the heat you’re putting off . . . It’s killing me.” Before she could say anything, he trailed a finger between her folds. “And you’re drenched.”
She nodded frantically as she wriggled and rooted around for his fingers.
He withd
rew them. “No. I mean to give you five swats. You have three more to endure. And don’t you dare come.”
Was he freaking crazy? How the heck did he think she was supposed to control her body when he was methodically unwinding all her self-control?
Maggie couldn’t find the words to ask, and he didn’t wait for her reply before he lifted his hand in the air again, then sent it crashing back down across the fiery skin of her backside. She bit her lip to hold in a cry and rocked her hips, grinding against his thigh in search of relief.
“Oh, you’re going to be a bad girl?” He tsked at her. “No, you get to suffer with me. You think it’s a piece of cake to spank that pretty ass, to feel those soft, pert cheeks under my palms, and not be able to see how red they are? Not order you to spread your legs so I can see exactly how wet you’re getting? Not fuck you? Suck it up, baby. Two to go.”
How would she ever make it?
Her panting filled the cab of his truck, along with the scent of her arousal and the anticipation arcing between them, mutual and pinging electric. “Hurry.”
“No. You’ve been leading Preston and a host of other suckers around by their dicks for years, I suspect. And you think you’re going to do the same to me? Nope. I’ve finally found one way to make you listen to me. I always intended for you to enjoy every moment of your paddling, but knowing you love it? What a fucking turn-on. If anything, I’m going to drag it out.”
Lord, why did that threat only arouse her more? “You’re mean.”
“I thought I was being awfully nice, bringing you so close to climax. You are close, aren’t you?” He tested her again with his fingers.
Maggie gasped and clawed at his leather seats, swearing that at any minute she’d lose her mind. “Yes!”
“Hmm. Now there’s the throaty little cry with that sweet begging note I love. Are you trying to excite the fuck out of me?”
Was there a right answer that would persuade him to put her out of her misery? “Not intentionally.”
“Which makes your response even sweeter. Let’s see how you like this, baby.”
Before she could brace, Josiah shoved a finger deep into her. Then another. Then a third. His hands were huge, and she felt completely stretched around his digits. As if that sensation weren’t provoking enough, he lifted his left hand from his grip on her wrists and landed it in the middle of her ass, sending fire screaming across both cheeks. Using his right, he toyed with sensitive spots that threatened to light her up like a fireworks spectacle.
She inched even closer to release, squirming to find that last bit of stimulation she needed to push her over the edge. Josiah pressed his left palm to the small of her back to halt her movements. Maggie groaned and whimpered in protest.
“I told you not to come.”
“But . . .”
“I expect you to wait until I give you permission.”
Permission? “Are you crazy?”
“Want to test me and find out?”
“No.” She had no doubt he’d only dangle that orgasm a little further out of her reach.
“Good choice. One to go. Hold it together for me.”
“Why?” No man got to control her pleasure. If she wanted to come and some man couldn’t get the job done, she took matters into her own hands. But this was different. He could let her fly—if he wanted to. He simply didn’t. Something about him having complete power over her body, especially when he wielded it so perfectly, aroused her to the brink of madness.
He caressed her cheeks, his palm almost seeming cool against the fire emanating from her backside. “Because I want you to give that orgasm to me. I want to see the ecstasy on your face.”
Her aching sex clenched and pulsed at his words.
Some rational part of her brain gaped at both her reaction and her behavior. Sure, she’d fantasized once or twice about an alpha lover so masterful that he was able to command her—all while giving her sublime pleasure. She’d never believed such a man was real or that she’d find him. Josiah was proving her wrong. Even more deliciously terrifying, Maggie suspected that he was merely showing her a fraction of his capability.
“Want this last smack?”
“Yes,” she gasped. Her heartbeat surged at the thought of it. Her skin ached with need of it. Her whole body shivered in desire for it.
Slowly, Josiah lifted his hand. Maggie held her breath, lifting to meet his downward stroke. When it came, it would be wicked and encompassing. It would be everything.
“Did you think you’d enjoy me spanking you this much?”
“Not at all.”
His chuckle sounded smug.
If she weren’t so aroused, she’d probably tell him to go to hell. But she couldn’t now, not when he alone could give her this singular pleasure. Not when all she wanted to do was welcome him deeper.
“There’s an art form to spanking,” he went on. “It’s a learned skill.”
Clearly, he’d learned quite well, and Maggie hated to think of all the women he must have practiced on over the years. She pictured Josiah and a nimble, nameless beauty stretched across his lap, and something inside her couldn’t stand it. Which made no sense. She wasn’t possessive. She’d never been jealous. When she’d heard Sawyer brag to some of the ranch hands that he had another something on the side, she’d even cheered.
“No matter how good you are at it, some women still won’t respond,” he mused. “I’ve been wondering almost since I clapped eyes on you if you’d be the one to love it.”
She was. That reality filled her with excitement and shame. The way he revved her up was like a forbidden thrill. She shouldn’t like this so much . . . but she couldn’t help herself. He confused her, aroused her. And in this moment, he owned her.
“Hurry. Please.”
“You do understand who sets the pace, right?”
“Yes.” Josiah obviously did. He’d made that clear, but . . . “I said please.”
He laughed. “You are one interesting handful, baby. And in a minute or two, I’ll get to call you Magnolia.”
Before her hormone-soaked brain could work out his meaning, the whoosh she had been anticipating hissed through the air. She heard the crack of his palm on her ass a split second before the sting sparked across her skin, then flared underneath into a raging blaze.
Tingles leapt. Blood rushed. Her clit screamed. She gripped the edge of his seat with white fingers, her entire body tensing. She was almost there. So, so close . . .
Josiah caressed her cheeks, his slow rub adding a warm friction that both soothed and enflamed. “You did good.”
“I’m dying.”
He ripped her panties off, lifted her from across his lap, and sat her back to straddle his knees while he fished in his pocket. “Can’t let that happen. I’ll make it all better, baby.”
The sight of him unzipping his jeans and rolling a condom down his length was both a relief and a turn-on. He did it with a well-practiced economy of motion in a minimal amount of time. Thank goodness.
Maggie almost wept when he lifted her up and over his erection.
“Guide me in.” His voice sounded gruff, ringing with a hint of desperation.
She didn’t hesitate. He was going to end this misery. Granted, it was enthralling, all-consuming, something totally new, but every sinew and cell needed him inside her.
“Good girl,” he crooned as she aligned his crest with her opening, then he eased her down, pushing his way into her swollen sex. “Oh, shit. Magnolia, baby . . . This is going to be hard and fast and raw as fuck. Come whenever and as often as you can.”
Before she could even weep with relief, he shoved down on her shoulders as he thrust his hips up and filled her in one rough stroke. The pleasure-pain was enough to send her over the edge with a high-pitched scream.
“One,” he chanted with satisfaction.
When her body finally stopped shuddering and the euphoria began to dissipate, she regarded him with panting breaths, studying the gray glint of his eyes, which looked almost black with need in the dark. “You’re counting my orgasms?”
He nodded and sent her a smoldering stare. “I gave you five swats. It seems only fair to give you an equal number of orgasms.”
Was he out of his mind? “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“I have a more can-do attitude about this. Let’s give it a whirl,” he suggested in a low murmur before he began to fill her with long, slow, hard strokes. The kind he knew undid her, damn him.
Within a half-dozen plunges inside her, the tingling flesh that hadn’t been quite satisfied with the first climax soared again, boomeranging into number two.
Maggie gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin when he kissed his way up her neck to whisper in her ear. “So fucking pretty when you come. I could watch you do that all night. Nothing turns me on more.”
He loved that idea; his voice said so, just like it told her that he might want to give it a try. Already she felt dizzy, wrung out, and limp. He barely sounded winded or strained. What the hell was happening?
“I don’t think I can climax again for a while.”
“Sure you can. Mind over matter. I’ll get your brain back into it . . . and prod the rest along.”
Maggie could only guess what he meant, but he didn’t leave her wondering. “Grind on my cock, baby. Don’t bounce. Rub that sensitive area right behind your clit on me and . . . yeah. That’s it. Good. Now, let’s get three and four out of the way.”
He sounded supremely confident, as if he weren’t discussing anything more complicated than taking a breath. Then he settled his thumb over the stimulated nub between her legs and began rubbing slow, excruciating circles.
“Josiah!”
“Hmm . . . The way you tighten around me is perfect. What are you thinking about?”
“What you’re doing to me. How you’re doing it. And why. Is this some macho thing? Are you trying to prove you’re better than Kane Preston in bed? Because you don’t have to prove that. I believe you.”
“Your thoughts aren’t where they should be, baby. Want to know what I’m thinking about? I’m imagining you in nothing but those sexy-as-fuck boots, spread across my bed, nipples in the air, legs open for me. You toss your head back, flinging your hair across my sheets as I lift your legs over my shoulders. I’d spend half of forever feasting because I love going down on you. I would stare at you as you turn rosy and swell and your pleasure climbs until you . . .”