“Fuck you!” I try to push him off me, dropping the towel in the process. It’s like trying to move a mountain.
He strikes and grabs my wrist, pushing my arm up against the wall over my head. “And stop walking around naked,” he growls.
“Don’t touch me!” I try to yank loose.
“I’m thinking you don’t mind it as much as you say.” He holds my wrist a few moments longer, then he drops it and steps back. His face is twisted in anger, but beneath his towel the bulge has grown and he must be rocking a raging hard-on.
Following my gaze, he then looks me over and something flickers through his gaze that makes my cheeks burn hotter. Stupid tears keep obscuring my vision. I’m weak. I’m a woman in a man’s world, and I’ve chosen the worst place I could set my foot in because it was far away. I didn’t fully comprehend how rough it would be. I most certainly didn’t predict standing pressed up against a wall with a drop-dead gorgeous brute who hates me, towering over me, looking as if he will eat me. I dart to the side, toward my bedroom door, my back burning from his gaze.
“You will wash those, Keagan,” he shouts after me.
That’s the last thing I hear before I slam the door shut so hard that our little trailer rattles. I throw myself on the bed and curl up beneath the comforter. Fuck him!
My cheeks burn, and to my extreme embarrassment, so does my pussy. Cole is brutally attractive in a caveman-like way, with those smoldering light brown eyes, that rough beard and high cheekbones. His eternally mussed-up hair practically begs to have a hand shoved through it, to have fingers lightly pull at the tresses and push them off his forehead. He says I’m strutting. What about him? He’s running around this place with only pants on more often than he’s dressed. With his rock-hard muscles and all those tattoos, he’s a mouthwatering specimen of a man. I’m not blind and I’m not interested. He’s a dick, and I’ve had enough of those in my life... but I’m definitely not blind.
Also, he hates me, so that’s that.
His thick erection confuses the shit out of me, and the memory makes me burn hotter than hell, but maybe it’s just a reflex to seeing a naked woman? That’s got to be it. He’s probably seriously sex-starved after all his time here.
‘I’ll fucking spank your ass.’
I put a hand between my legs, realizing I’m soaked, and it’s not the shower. I’m slick and burning up. I glance at the door. He better stay out. It doesn’t lock. Why doesn’t anything lock in here? I move a finger over my clit, shuddering from the fire that licks my insides. There’s a comforting clattering from the shower, and listening to it, picturing his powerful body naked in there, I come hard, and still I’m unsatisfied and achingly empty.
Seeing myself, bent over his lap, his large hand connecting with my ass, I groan in frustration and bury my face in my pillow. How the hell can I ever get back out there again with all this lust raging inside me? He’ll see. He’ll know. I’m so beyond fucked.
Chapter Eight
Cole
Fuck.
I can’t get my cock to cooperate.
I try to think about the arrogant little shit she is, but my brain refuses to connect with my body and I’m so hard it’s painful. Living with her, smelling her flower-scented soap, watching the shadow of her moving around, and imagining the taut little body beneath those ugly, bunched-up work clothes that are a size too big for her, has blue-balled me for weeks.
Jerking off, I keep seeing her perfectly rounded hips before me, imagine my hands on them, sliding up to her perky breasts and those delicate pink nipples. I wonder what she looks like when she’s in pain, when she comes. I explode. I come harder than I’ve done in a long time, feeling like a total ass for lusting after someone I should see as a workmate and nothing more. And too young. She’s too young. I’m only five years older, but there’s something so girlish, so innocent about her, despite her cocky surface. I feel like filth and my chest crawls. My old addiction flares up, the desperate need for a body, for heat, to thrust my cock into a wet, tight pussy as I maul soft breasts, to clamp my hand around someone’s throat and feel their fear and excitement. My belly aches. I need the whimpers, the primal desire, the few blissful moments of numbness after a release. I hate her. I hate that she pulls all the shit back to the surface. I want to smack her ass so hard, punish her for even existing.
I grit my teeth as I wipe off, pull on a pair of sweatpants and grab my book, but then it’s as if my feet have a will of their own, as if my body has disconnected from my fucking messy mind. Putting the book down, I push aside the curtain and move toward her room, fixated on that thin, ugly yellow door with dents in it, scraped and worn. My insides burn. My heart pounds. Fuck her. Fuck everything.
I’m going to hell.
I knock. At least I knock. It’s decent. That’s got to count for something.
The last decent thing I’ll do in a long time.
“Eh, yeah.”
That’s as far as my civility goes. I push open the door fully and take in my prey. Because she’s my prey. I will have her. I can’t stay away anymore. I did everything I could to make her keep her distance, told her everything hurtful I could think of, attacked her work, the one thing she seems to take the most pride in. If she hates me, she’s safe from me, but instead she eats me up with her eyes. She’s defying me with her every breath. There’s a tension between us that can’t be quelled with anything less than action.
She’s begging me to take command, and I’m not going to refuse myself this anymore.
Casey half-lies on her bed, a book in her hands, but sits up straight when I take a step inside, putting her book on the bedside table.
“What?”
“Take off your top.”
Her hand shoots to her chest, clutching the fabric. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Her mouth opens and closes. A whole slew of emotions cross her face, then she squeezes her legs tighter together. “Have you gone insane? You can’t just—”
“I can, and I will.” I let my gaze travel along her body, down, back up, coming to a rest on her breasts. Her nipples tent the fabric. “Are you cold?” I smirk. Her eyes follow mine and then she gives out a little gasp and pulls up the comforter.
“Ah-ah.” I grab the bottom of the comforter and pull, just a light tug, testing her, giving her a final chance to get out of this.
She stares at me, transfixed, as she lets me take it. It slides out of her hands and I uncover her whole body before I drop the comforter, letting it fall to the floor.
Done deal. She’s ripe. She’s mine. Time to play.
“Now take off your top.”
My voice doesn’t sound like my own anymore. I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s all colors of fucked up. It’ll traumatize this girl, get my ass fired, and throw myself right back into the dark depraved days of my previous life.
She still doesn’t move. Her eyes are huge and dark.
“Now, Casey.”
* * *
Casey
‘Take off your top.’
I tremble beneath his heated gaze, swallowing hard as I clutch the hem of my shirt. He doesn’t speak again, just waits. It feels as if time has stopped. I hesitate, hold his gaze, then I begin to slowly pull upward, baring my stomach, higher, my bra. I lose sight of him as I pull the top over my head. Lowering my arms, I still clutch it. Cole reaches for the fabric and carefully removes it from my hands. I can’t believe I’m doing this. He lowers his gaze to my breasts, to my rapidly rising and falling chest, as he carefully puts my top on the table.
“Turn around.”
My heart trembles as I obey. I jerk when his warm fingers slide from the small of my back up to the bra clasp.
“What do you want?” I whisper.
Cole hushes me. My bra loosens and he drags the straps along my arms, slowly, sensuously. It bunches around my wrists and I clutch the fabric tight, unable to breathe.
“Turn, Casey. Back to me.”
His v
oice is quiet, calm, but there’s authority in it. He sounds like someone who is used to being obeyed without question. I shuffle my knees, turn back. Sitting before him, naked from the waist up, I feel infinitely small, unsure, and I burn. His gaze sets me on fire as it travels along my body.
“You are to sleep without your top. Tomorrow morning, you get up at 3:59, wake me up, dressed exactly like that, then you go sit on your bed while I shower and make myself ready. Then you are allowed into the bathroom.”
I’m speechless. I mean to protest. He can’t just—My pussy is burning up, achingly needy and swollen. Oh. My. Fucking. God.
Cole tilts his head forward, holds my gaze. “You’re awfully quiet. Am I making myself clear?”
I should stop this here and now, and that would be it. I can’t go down this road.
“Yes,” I mouth.
“What was that?”
“Yes,” I say a little louder.
Sir, I think, but I can’t make it pass my lips.
His eyes darken. I hold his gaze, terrified, mesmerized, then I look down and see the unapologetic bulge in his sweatpants. Huge. Pointed at me. He’s definitely not wearing any briefs and oh, God.
“Good girl.” He smirks and turns, pulling the door closed with a soft thud.
I don’t get any sleep. At all.
I’m frustrated, hot, thinking about his stern voice, his warm, skilled fingers on my skin. I hug my naked chest, cup my breasts tightly, tossing and turning. I’m on fire and he’s the only one who can stoke it. But will he? What game is this? What did I agree on? I’m insane.
* * *
At 3:58 I jump up and dash through the corridor to stand outside the curtain to his room. I count to sixty, praying I’m getting it right. My head spins and I’m not getting enough air with the way my heart pounds in my throat. I look down on my naked chest. I’m shivering and I’m covered in goosebumps. I’m shocked that I’m going along with this. It’s outrageous, a game we are definitely not allowed to play, but there’s not a cell in me that can resist.
Pushing the curtain aside, I step inside the sleeping chamber of Cole Hooper. I haven’t seen even a glimpse of it since he moved in. I expected a mess, a guy’s lair, clothes strewn all over, smelly and dirty, but not an item seems misplaced. Jeans and a sweatshirt hang, neatly folded, across the back of a chair. A book lies on the table. I cock my head and try to read the title in the dusky room, then I twitch. Shit! The time.
I put a hand on his shoulder, his skin sleep-warm. He smells so good.
“Cole,” I whisper as the hair rises on my arms. “I’m supposed to wake you up.”
“At what hour?” His eyes are still closed, his breathing hasn’t changed. He was awake the whole time. Bastard. My eyes dart to his alarm clock. 4:01.
“3:59,” I gasp.
“And what time is it now?”
I exhale on a shudder.
“Casey.”
“4:01.” As I watch, it flicks over to 4:02.
Cole opens his eyes. In the dark they’re like bottomless wells, sucking me in. I look at the clock, back at Cole, then follow his gaze as he looks at the time before he turns back to me. I swallow. Swallow again.
“One simple task.”
He lowers his gaze, rests on my naked breasts. My nipples turn hard before his attentions.
“I’m sorry.”
Cole sits up and I take a step back.
“Ah-ah. Don’t move.” He sits up and pulls the comforter to the side. He wasn’t lying. He sleeps naked. He’s magnificent, all hard planes, tattoos, and muscles. And he’s aroused. Very, very aroused. The sight makes heat bloom between my legs, and I have to fight to breathe properly.
He stands. An inch from me. I don’t move. His cock rests, hot and hard, against my belly. I tilt back my head so I can see him.
“You are to wake me at 3:59. No sooner, no later. Disobedience will get you punished.”
I widen my eyes. “W-what?”
“Bend over and bare your ass for me.”
“Cole—I—”
“Now, Casey. I don’t have all morning.”
I don’t know if I’m afraid or excited. Both, I decide. Both. Definitely scared. I stare at him a second longer, then I turn, the hair at my nape standing up, the skin on my back electrified under his scrutiny. I hook my thumbs in the sides of my waistband and push my pajama pants past my hips, hesitate, breathe, then past my ass cheeks. I spread my legs slightly to stop the pants from falling to the floor.
“Bend over. Put your hands on the armrest.”
Clutching the couch, I bend forward in jerky moves. Cole is silent. I don’t breathe. I twitch when I feel a large, warm palm on my lower back, caressing its way down to my ass.
“You’re a bad girl, Casey Keagan. Ripping your top off for a workmate. Baring your ass, your pussy dripping. Do you know what I do with bad girls?”
A shock of arousal runs through me. I try to breathe as I shake my head. “Tell me,” I gasp.
“I punish them. Do you have anything to say to your defense?”
“I woke you,” I say as a shudder runs through me. His palm rests on my ass cheek, and I think I’m dying with the need for him to dip into the cleft. My pussy aches, desperate for a touch.
“And when did you wake me?”
“Too late,” I breathe.
“Mm-hmm. Do you deserve your punishment?”
All air rushes out of me. “Yes,” I gasp. “I do. I failed.”
Oh. My. God.
I’m going to die and go to hell.
His hand disappears, then it bears down on me in a hard smack. Once. I grit my teeth not to yelp.
“That’ll be all,” he growls. “We’re done. Go wait for me to finish.”
He pushes the curtain aside and disappears into the bathroom without another glance in my direction. I’m left trembling, tingling, breathless. Alone. I feel dirty, ashamed, used, and I wonder what happens now. This isn’t normal. My God, I’m not normal. Neither is he.
I pull up my pants and stumble to my room, acutely aware of the clatter of water, of the fact that Cole is naked behind a thin wall, a few feet away. The feeling of his touch lingers. The skin on my ass burns, but my face burns even hotter. I can’t remember if I was allowed to get dressed again, but goosebumps climb up and down along my chest, and I’m cold as all hell even though I pull the comforter up to my cheek. The sheet is chilly, and I can’t get my warmth back. Finally, I pull on a sweatshirt and wait.
And wait.
The sudden silence is deafening. The bathroom door opens and I dart out of bed. My morning schedule is seriously fucked up. If I’ll have time for breakfast, I need to shower for like two minutes top. When I dash out into the corridor, I stop flat. Cole stands with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall next to the curtain. His gaze falls to my chest, to my sweatshirt and then he tsks.
“Your disobedience is stunning. I’m not surprised. We’ll work on that.”
He disappears behind the curtain and I’m left with my heart in my throat, hot tingles shooting between my legs again. Work on that? I run into the bathroom, tear off my clothes and dart into the shower. I squeal when the water hits me. It’s ice cold.
“Asshole!”
I turn off the water and decide that I’m clean enough. -ish. I wrap the towel around me and throw open the door, pushing the curtain aside. Cole has almost finished dressing. He looks at me and raises his eyebrows.
“You took all the hot water!”
“Did I promise you a hot shower?”
“You—you can’t just—”
“I can, and I will. I don’t want to hear another word from you until I allow you to speak. Go get dressed. You’re running late.”
I open and close my mouth, my cheeks heating up. “You fucking—”
He puts his finger to his lips. “Two words. Two slaps.” There’s a wicked glint in his eyes that makes my stomach lurch.
I stare at him, horrified. “How am I suppo
sed to—” Then I snap my mouth shut, trying to count the words. Cole holds up his hand, fisting it, then raises his thumb, index finger, middle finger, ring finger and pinky, his lips moving. Then he adds two fingers on the other hand.
I press my lips together. He smiles, a smile that widens as I don’t object again.
Fuck.
I spin on my heels and run back to my room. Seven slaps. When? No time now. Tonight? He’ll bare my ass tonight and spank me seven times? My hand shakes as I reach for my phone to check the time. Hell! Damn. Fucking man and... and his body, and everything. I have a few minutes to get dressed if I want to eat. The door to the trailer slams shut, indicating that we’re apparently not leaving for breakfast together.
I’m definitely not cold when I’m done putting on my clothes. I’m sweaty and pissed. I don’t know if I’m more angry with him or with myself. I half-run toward the cantina. Everybody is already sitting, wolfing down scrambled eggs and bacon, beans and sausages. The smell of food almost makes me drool. There’s a sudden silence when I storm inside and at least half the room turns to me. I attempt a smile when I hang up my jacket.
Cole sits with his back to me by his usual spot, next to the same men as always. I grab a tray and slap some food on a plate, pour coffee in a cup, and then I steer toward the vacant spot by his table.
He turns, slowly, and the glare he gives me makes me freeze in place. He turns back and I stare at him a few moments longer, too long. People take notice. I spin around and aim for a spot at the far end of the cantina. Alone as always.
I bow my head, my ears hot with the humiliation, the memory of his hand on my skin still burning.
The day, and the meals, continues in the same fashion. He throws me hostile glances as soon as our eyes meet. There’s nothing about him that indicates we’ve been intimate. Or maybe we haven’t? He looked at my tits and then spanked me as if I’m a child. Maybe it doesn’t mean the same to him as it does for me? By dinner, I’m riled up. Fury and confusion have built in me with each cold shoulder he’s given me.
I shove the tray in the rack and stomp off to our trailer. Pissed as all hell. I throw my clothes in a pile on the floor right inside the door, because I know it will irk him. I shower until there’s no hot water left. The hours pass. Judging from the looks he gave me, I thought he’d come here right after dinner, but I guess he’s off with the guys. He must regret what we did, and rightfully so. It doesn’t get more twisted than that. I try to read. I pick up the book and put it down more times than I can count. I’m hot and bothered and fully set on ripping him a new one when he comes home.
Commanding Casey Page 6