Without thinking to answer him, and without acknowledging he’s pulling my emotions in a hundred different directions, I merely lean into him and place my mouth on his. I immediately feel his entire body stiffen in shock before his hands come to my shoulders to push me away.
And I almost let him too… push me away, that is, but I also immediately feel his erection swell bigger and harder than I would have thought possible underneath of me.
So I press my lips against his and open my mouth, forcing his to open in turn, and letting my tongue dart in for a slow swipe against his. A growl rooted deep in his chest rumbles. I think it’s in approval, but then his hands tighten on my shoulders and he does, in fact, push me back so our mouths break apart.
I stare at him in confusion, because I know he’s turned on and I know he wants me. But it doesn’t fit in with the chill in his gaze and his unwillingness to kiss me.
“That stuff turns you on?” he asks coldly.
I’m losing the connection and I can see him retreating, so I tell him the only truth I’m sure about right now. “You turn me on.”
Bridger stares at me, his eyes going from glacial to muddy confusion.
“What do you want from me?” he practically croaks, and there’s no denying the tinge of fear in his eyes.
My heart plummets that I make this man scared because I was pretty sure he feared nothing. I want to cry because he’s petrified that I want him and for the life of me, I can’t imagine what happened to Bridger to make him fear a woman wanting him.
“I want to kiss you again,” I say breathlessly, wanting to push past his fears and have him give me something back in return. Something that lets me know I’m not the only one imagining this spark that’s pulsing between us.
Bridger’s body seems to lock tight, and he glares at me like I’m a complete annoyance. But then… his eyes drop down to my lips and he lets out an almost wistful sigh.
I hold my breath, waiting to see what he does.
Chapter 9
Bridger
Goddamn her.
Goddamn her for kissing me and making my dick hard and telling me she’s turned on.
Goddamn her summer eyes and luscious ass pressing on my erection; those sweet fucking lips that felt so good on mine I was on the verge of a major freak-out; and finally, goddamn myself for not pushing her off me and ending this catastrophe in the making.
Push her off, Bridger. Just push her off, man, and put her out of your mind. You do not need this dangerous complication in your life.
Goddamn her.
My eyes stay pinned on her mouth and her words rattle around in my brain, taunting me. I want to kiss you again.
My own lips fucking tingle from the brief touch she gave me moments ago, and my balls actually ache with the need to come. I think about that blow job Carina gave me last night and how long it took me to get relief, and I know without a doubt that if Maggie just barely whispered her lips against my dick, I’d fucking blow like an unruly volcano.
I almost resolve in my mind to push her off my lap, then she does the unthinkable and nervously licks her lips. So now they’re not only soft, but they’re also shimmering… fucking begging me to have at them.
“Bridger,” Maggie whispers and my gaze slides up to meet hers. Expectation, hope, and desire swirl within those fern-green irises and the ache moves from my balls to the middle of my chest.
Goddamn her.
My body is not my own to command because rather than pushing her away, I use my grip on her shoulders to pull her to me, crushing my mouth down onto hers. Maggie’s sweet moan strokes over my tongue, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never tasted anything as good in my entire life. I bet her pussy is even sweeter, and that makes me feel something I’ve never felt in my entire life.
From a mere kiss, a low groan starts in the bottom of my chest as a shudder of desire shoots up my spine, and then tears free from my throat to explode in her mouth. The sound is guttural and tormented. It shames me because it clearly speaks to the depth of need I have for her right now, and I’ve never needed someone before.
Never.
But it doesn’t shame me enough to push her away and end the kiss.
How can I when it feels this damn good?
I sure as hell have fucked a lot of women in my life, but I’ve never been much of a kisser. Never been much of a face-to-face kind of guy now that I think about it, preferring to stare at a woman’s back while I fuck her or the top of her head while being blown. Rather look anywhere than in a woman’s eyes because they’ll inevitably morph into hers, and I’ll read triumph and power in them even if that’s not really what I’m seeing.
I’m not sure what makes this different from any other woman I’ve been with, but for the first time, I get a pure thrill from the simple intimacy of kissing. It’s as erotic to me as if I were to pull her onto my face and have her ride my tongue. Her sweet, soft lips and tiny moans, and the way her tongue tentatively swipes at mine but otherwise prefers to let me have my way with her mouth. Even her hands that are now both clutching onto my t-shirt as she twists in my lap makes this kiss seem like the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Which is fucking ridiculous.
I should stop it.
So I kiss her deeper, one hand slipping behind her neck to hold her in place so she’ll never go away.
Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m so fucking fucked.
Maggie squirms some more, starting to pant. My cock turns so hard it starts to hurt as the backs of her legs and ass rub all over me. I bring a hand down to her thigh and grip her tightly, trying to hold her still, but that does nothing more than cause her to moan in protest. It’s like torture to me that she needs something, and, apparently, I’m the one to give it to her.
Ripping my mouth away from hers, I pull my head back so I can look her in the eye and tell her this cannot go any further. I am not going to fuck her, because if her kiss is this dangerous and has the power to cause me to lose all sense of myself, then what the fuck will her pussy do?
Except her eyes are shut tight, brow furrowed in consternation. She gives a rumble of protest and slowly opens her eyes, which are fogged over with lust. It takes her a moment to focus on me, but when she does, her eyebrows draw in even closer with confusion. “Bridger? Why did you stop?”
“We can’t do this—”
“Yes,” she exclaims, her hands moving from my t-shirt to slide behind my neck where she holds me tight. Tilting her head to the side, she presses her lips to corner of my jaw before whispering, “We can do this. Please don’t stop. I’m begging you not to stop.”
“Mags,” I whisper consolingly, because the emotion and need in her voice slays me.
She tilts her head back so she can look at me. With a swiftness I didn’t think was possible, she grabs one of my hands and shoves it in between her legs, spreading them so my palm presses right against her core.
Heat sears my skin and I groan again… and what the fuck is up with the God-awful sounds of need that are popping out of me? I’m simply out of fucking control, and I hate it.
“Please, Bridger,” she whispers plaintively, and rather than sound annoying and whiny, it appeals to some deep-seated need within me to give this woman everything she craves.
“Goddamn you,” I mutter and rather than push her away, which would be the best thing for my self-preservation, I roll us until she’s on her back and I’m on top of her. Her legs part willingly and my cock comes to rest right over her pussy. She gasps, rolls her hips, and starts to writhe in an attempt to create friction between us.
I hiss… another fucking God-awful sound I apparently can’t help but make when I’m touching Maggie, and because that felt too goddamn good and I have no intention of fucking her, I shift us to our sides so we’re facing each other on the couch.
Maggie mews like an abandoned kitten and tries to scoot closer to me, her hips flexing inward for contact.
“Not going to fuck you, Mags,” I tell her
harshly. She goes still, her eyes flaring wide with surprise, and focuses on me intently. She opens her mouth to argue, but I beat her to the punch by shoving my hand between her legs and giving her pussy a rough squeeze.
She cries out in almost pained pleasure, hips twisting and seeking more from me. She’s so fucking turned on and rabid for me that I almost feel dizzy from wonder. No woman has ever responded to me like this, but granted… I’ve never kissed a woman the way I kissed Maggie.
“Not going to fuck you,” I reiterate as I slide my hand to the waistband of the stretchy-type pants she’s wearing that fucking fit like a glove and make me hard whenever she’s wearing them. “But I am going to take care of you.”
“What?” she says, her voice sound slightly slurred from lust and confusion.
I don’t answer. Instead, I show her, sliding my hand down the front of her pants, past her lace panties that I bought her, and right through the cleft of her pussy where my middle finger grazes over her clit on the way to the wetness I’ll find just beyond.
“Oooooohhh,” Maggie cries out, her back arching hard, which causes her to press against my hand, making it so easy to sink my finger into her.
And goddamn traitorous body of mine, another fucking groan rips out of me as I feel the tight, wet heat surrounding me. I have a moment where my mind actually sort of blanks, and the overwhelming need to rip her clothes off and bury my cock deep inside her makes me go dizzy with confusion. In this moment, I’ve never wanted to fuck someone so bad in my life.
Blinking a few times, I try to clear my head. I focus in on Maggie’s delicate neck that’s bare and exposed as her head is thrown back and pressed hard into the cushion. Mouth parted, she’s panting like she just ran a marathon. Her eyes are squeezed shut tightly, and her teeth are pressed down into her lower lip.
The expression is as clear as day that she’s dying for me to make her come.
I’m dying to give it to her.
Leaning my head down, I press my lips to the middle of her throat as I start to pump my finger in and out of her slowly. Maggie makes a strangled sound that has my lips curling into a smile as I graze them to the side and move lower until I’m just above her collarbone.
Lifting my mouth briefly from her skin, I ask her, “Want to come, Mags?”
“Y-e-e-e-s-s-s,” she stammers, and then screams when I pull my finger out of her pussy and start to circle it around her clit.
So goddamn responsive.
Goddamn her.
I give her an openmouthed kiss at the side of her throat near the base, and then I suck against her tender skin while I alternate between finger fucking her and stroking her clit. I suck against her neck like a goddamn vampire, but not with the need to draw her blood. More with the insane need to mark her in some way.
Maggie starts thrashing, hips moving so violently against me that she’s doing most of the work and riding my fingers. I lift my mouth from her skin and look down at her face again. Eyes are still shut tight, but now she’s biting down on her knuckle in an effort to not scream.
It’s sexy and fucking adorable and just… goddamn her.
I push my middle finger back in her, feel her reflexively tighten around me, and then pull it out. I shove two back in and she grunts… which shouldn’t be, but it’s fucking adorable too.
Pull both of those out, put three together, and push them inside, feeling the stretch of her tender skin and wondering what that would feel like against my cock, which is now in utter agony. I fuck her with those fingers, knowing the fullness feels good because she writhes and thrashes harder as she moans.
“So close,” Maggie pants, her hand falling away from her mouth but her eyes staying closed. “So close. Please, Bridger.”
God, I want her to come, and I want her to say my name again when she does. I’m immediately disgusted with myself for wanting something so… so… ultimately useless to me.
So as I pull my fingers from her tightness to circle back around her clit, I lean forward and kiss her hard, my teeth knocking against hers in a desperate attempt to distract her from saying my name when she comes and keeping me protected from this foolishness.
My tongue overwhelms and captivates her mouth, so when I flick my thumb against her clit and she starts to break apart on me, any word that could possibly resemble my name gets swallowed down my throat as she cries out. Maggie bucks against my hand as she starts to shake from the force of her orgasm. I work her clit through the downfall, gently circling the edges until she comes all the way back, all the while kissing her in a more leisurely but no less dominating fashion.
When she finally stills under me, I lift my mouth from hers and pull my hand from her pants. Maggie’s eyes flutter open, immediately capturing mine, and she gives me a tremulous smile.
Raising a hand, she places it against my chest and whispers, “Let’s go to your room.”
My cock jerks in agreement and my chest aches, but I shake my head, pushing up and rolling over her to get off the couch.
I don’t look back at her as I walk to the door. “You need to get some sleep. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
“Bridger?” she calls to me, clearly perplexed and hurt.
I don’t turn around, knowing that will hurt her even more, but I do issue a gruff, “I’ll be back later.”
“Bridger?” she calls again, this time in desperation. The tiny quaver in her voice causes my chest to squeeze with brutal force.
I ignore her and walk out the door, shutting it behind me. Without thinking, I trot down my porch steps and get in my Corvette, cranking it up and doing a quick turn around on my double concrete driveway so I can head down the long, paved road that leads back out to the main highway.
My hands grip the steering wheel tight as I think about Maggie calling my name, and the way she thrashed like a hellcat just from my fingers and fuck… I can smell her on my goddamn fingers and my cock starts hurting again. It’s still hard as a rock and with a growl of frustration, I slam on my brakes and come to a screeching halt. After slamming the gearshift into neutral and pulling up violently on the emergency brake, my hands immediately work at my jeans to get the fly open.
Then my cock is out and in my hand. I’m stroking hard with pure agony that it’s not Maggie’s hand on me but with relief I can make this pain go away pretty quickly. I jack myself viciously, twisting hard at the top and when I close my eyes, I remember how wet Maggie was and the way she begged me to make her come. My balls draw up tight and start to tingle, and with three more pumps of my hand, I’m barking out a hoarse cry of release as I shoot my wad all over the steering wheel of my car.
Fuck, that felt good. Way better than the blow job Carina gave me, but not as good as it would have been to fuck Maggie. Poor, abused, and frightened Maggie. Dropped on my doorstep and wiggling her way into my worries. Beautiful Maggie with the curvy body, tight pussy, and a mouth that was made for kissing.
I look around my car helplessly for something to clean the steering wheel and myself, seeing nothing in sight. I watch the pearly cum sliding down over the Chevy symbol, and I feel utterly defeated.
Because for the first time in my life, I want something I can’t have, and I can’t have it because I don’t deserve it.
Chapter 10
Maggie
My finger absently strokes over the reddish-purple mark on the side of my throat. It’s too high for my sweatshirt to hide it, but it’s low enough a turtleneck would do the job. Sadly, I don’t have one.
When I saw Bridger this morning, having sleepily stumbled out of my room at six AM when he woke me up, I was cognizant enough to see his eyes immediately drop to the mark on my neck. I may have been imagining it, but I swear I saw a look of triumph in his eyes. Which is weird, because Bridger clearly doesn’t want me. Not the way I clearly want him, and my face heats up with embarrassment as I think about the way he made me lose utter control in his arms before turning around and walking out on me.
I struggle to suppr
ess a tiny snort that wants to come out. Despite this strange and enigmatic man who I don’t think I’ll ever be able to figure out, I find it comical he left a bruise on me. A hickey really, and it doesn’t hurt at all, but it is vivid. It’s funny to me because as my other bruises left by Kayla are fading, he puts a practically neon sign on me that says, “Bridger Was Here”. It also makes me want to laugh, because this man… who hands out pain to women with whips, left a mark on me that was neither painful nor scary.
Talk about irony.
In fact, his mouth on me felt too damn good. Even as he was sucking on my skin, I knew it would be visible to everyone, I couldn’t find it in me to care last night. While his fingers were in me and on me, and his mouth was on my neck, I didn’t have one single worry in my world. He made me forget everything.
Except this morning, those memories are dulling and I’m left with the brutal reality that Bridger doesn’t want anything from me in return. I was positive last night after the last rumbles of my orgasm faded, he’d fuck me… make love to me… whatever. It totally stung in a humiliating way that he walked out. I didn’t wait up for him to return, knowing when Bridger draws a line in the sand, he sticks to it.
It’s been evident all morning as we drive northwest across Idaho. It’s not been a silent and tense ride so far, but it’s been absolutely devoid of any conversation that would even remotely come close to what we did last night. I am too afraid to bring it up, and he’s clearly not going to.
Bridger had me pack an overnight bag as it is a good eight hours to Coeur D’Alene, Idaho where Aunt Gayle lives, and his plan is for us to stay the night after we pick up Belle before heading back. He ushered me into his sleek red Corvette I’ve seen but never ridden in, as I’ve been in hiding. We then drove a back road made of dirt and gravel that scraped on the undercarriage of his car, through the Double J Ranch, and came out at Woolf’s house, which was a massive monstrosity set atop a butte.
I stared at it with my jaw hanging open and asked, “I assume ranching is a profitable business?”
The Wicked Horse Boxed Set (The Wicked Horse Series) Page 100