by Angel Payne
Her eyes flared. “That sounds intriguing.”
“Depends on how you define intriguing.” It took supreme willpower not to accent it by glancing at the headboard, with its custom iron inlays in a stars and moon theme—so easily transformed by his mind into bondage rope rigging points.
“Hmmm.” Her kittenish sound was accompanied by a sexy little wriggle. “Try me.”
Well, that did it.
He let a dam break. Just one—but that was more than enough. His psyche flooded with desire; his body coursed with white-hot fire. Both sensations were ruthless and perfect, propelling him to roll on top of her, dragging her sweatshirt up as he went. The second he had the garment ripped over her head, he trapped both her wrists in his grip, shoving them into the pillows, twisting his hand in her hair as he went. She winced as the pressure pulled on her scalp, though her eyes instantly sparked once more, lusty gold flashing in those huge chocolate depths.
The sight widened his grin. Ohhh the little fox, even outrunning herself about the truth. She’d liked that slice of pain; her huge hang-up was appearing weak or stupid about begging for it. A hurdle easily handled. He’d simply eliminate the choice for her.
“Take it,” he directed, brooking no retreat from his gaze—or the order. “You can.” A sharper twist on her hair. “And you will.”
Conflict stormed across her face. He was ready for it, as well as the harder jerk of her wrists. He held them fast, letting her see his answering expression: all the heat and pressure and desire she gifted to him with her surrender. To make the point completely clear, he bent in and licked the seam of her lips until she opened with a moan, letting in his wet assault.
During the kiss, he pulled her hair harder. Again, she resisted. Again, Rhett held her tight. By the time they ripped apart, her chest was pumping in triple time, her teeth openly bared. He captured her pantings with his lips, studying all the facets of her eyes again. They were captivating before; they were a damn light show now. So stunning. He was a kid at his first fireworks show.
With one noticeable—and at the moment, uncomfortable to the point of pain—exception.
“You are so beautiful.”
She wasn’t amused. Her grimace darkened. “You only able to say that when your sadist is getting fed?” Her gasp punctuated it, as his dick pulsed at the juncture of her thighs. He wasn’t going to be sorry for it. Wanted her to know what she did to him, for him, with this.
“You like my sadist.”
For an interminable moment, she didn’t answer. When she did, it was on a reluctant rasp. “Maybe. A little. Only because he’s kind of cute.”
He replied, equally as softly, “So tell me no. This isn’t green light-red light, sweetheart. You say no, it means no. Tell me you don’t like it, to just let go, and I will.”
She blinked, looking puzzled. “And then what?”
“Oh, I’m sure my dirty mind can come up with something.”
He smirked, committing in full to the cute sadist thing. Her tension still wasn’t eased—but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, after all. Her breaths came harder as her fingers curled in, a sublime demonstration of the conflict clearly hammering her. Rhett waited. Had to issue a few silent profanities at his cock to do it, but no way in hell was he going to hurry her through this choice. An hour of pleasure was hers either way, but would they play by her rules or his? Did she swim in the shallow end and keep the ground beneath her, or trust him to lead her into the deep end?
“It’s not so bad,” she finally murmured. “And your hand…against my head…it makes me feel…”
“Safe?” He supplied it when she trailed off, nervously wetting her lips. After she jerked out a nod, he leaned in tighter. “And…desired? And…sexy?”
He watched her pupils dilate as he drew out each descriptor, lightly licking the corners of her berry-sweet mouth after each seductive pass. “Yes.” She lifted her chin, silently pleading for fuller contact with his lips. “Yes.”
He used her hair to yank her back down. A sensual whine trembled out of her, and he caught every note of it with the new invasion of his mouth. He rolled and dipped and teased her with it now, spreading her slowly, tasting her thoroughly, angling her fully as he swept into every wet, welcoming corner…
When he was done, he slipped his hand off her head. Freed her wrists from his clutch.
“No!”
She blinked fast, her own outburst clearly a surprise, before plummeting her head back into the pillows. Her stare popped wider when falling to her chest, where her nipples had turned the cups of her T-shirt bra into erotic teepees.
A blush rushed her whole face. It was one of the most incredible sights of Rhett’s life.
“Ohhhh, little peach.” His growled endearment fit so perfectly now. The color suffusing her skin, combined with washes of the firelight, transformed her dancer’s figure into smooth, light pink curves that made him want to sink his teeth deep in so places…
Hell if that wasn’t the one thought that led to another.
Longing became craving. Desire became lust. And seduction was sure as fuck going to become action.
Another rumble started low in his throat, generated from the depths of his gut. He watched it curl through her too, a proper enough warning for the hand he twisted over the button on her shorts. After that came free, he made short work of rasping down the zipper. Brynn sighed and arched against him, widening the V in the denim—and exposing the lace band of the panties beneath.
It was agony to shift away from her and rock back on his haunches, but years of crouching in bunkers and sleeping in the dirt made him no stranger to suffering. Those situations didn’t promise this delicious reward, either.
Soon, man. So soon now…
He snagged her gaze with his before nodding toward her sweet juncture. “I need to see more. Take them off, sweetheart.”
A fresh look of conflict skated across her face, though never entered her eyes. Those lush brown depths affirmed the conclusion that rooted stronger in him by the minute. Given the right guidance with the proper affection, this little fox yearned for domestication as strongly as any submissive he’d met.
But now wasn’t the time for theorization.
Definitely not.
As his blood turned to magma, his stare narrowed to the perfect pink flesh she uncovered. Before she was done toeing off the shorts, the moisture evaporated from his mouth. He swallowed hard then uttered lowly, “Damn.”
Brynn’s lips twitched, hinting at hope and insecurity at once. “Dance costumes are unforgiving. I have to keep things…clean.”
He pushed forward again, stroking fingers up and down her totally bare sex. “There’s nothing clean about what I want to do with this.”
A little gasp stuttered from her. “So you don’t mind?”
“Mind what? That I can see every gorgeous inch of you? That as I turn you on, every drop of your juice will be exposed for me? That I’ll know exactly how ready your pussy is to be filled with my cock?”
She lifted her hands, scratching at his back to bring him closer. Her mouth parted, all but pleading for a deep kiss, but he gave her only the tip of his tongue, making her reach up with her own to meet his taunting stabs.
“Ahhhh.” she finally cried. “Rhett. I’m—I’m going crazy. Please!”
He pulled back up, indulging a moment of just gazing at her. Holy fuck. With her hair splayed on the pillows, her eyes hooded and horny, and her body restlessly writhing, she was a sight he could have watched for hours. A fantasy he didn’t even know he had.
A lover who sure as hell didn’t fit into the one-night-fun file anymore.
A challenge to be confronted later. Much later. If this woman was going to take him down, body and spirit, then he was sure as fuck going to enjoy the ride.
“Please what?” Ribbing her was more than a pleasure. It was like splitting a diamond open, exposing fascinating new facets of her. As she arched her neck, glaring at him with a mix of outrage
and arousal, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “What do you want, Brynna Monet? I can deny you nothing, creature of my dreams. Should I caress you? Taste you?” He looked deeply into her eyes, purposely drawing out a pause. “Fuck you?”
She wet her lips and gulped. “Is there an ‘all of the above’ box?”
He chuckled. Adorable little fox. He wondered if she’d have answered the same, had he included everything he wanted on that list. Didn’t matter. He was ready and willing to give her everything she’d asked for.
“For you, peach, there absolutely is. And oh, look…here’s a pair of perfect tits, just begging to be first for the fun.”
A quiver claimed her as he tugged her bra straps down to her elbows. He used them to trap her arms at her sides, thereby exposing her erect tips to his heated gaze. “They—I—don’t do begging,” she snapped.
Rhett didn’t miss a stroke as he sucked at her right peak. “Oh, sweetheart…yes you do.” He licked and nipped his way over her skin, set on attending the other nipple, already standing at full readiness for him. “In this case, times two.”
She wrestled against the straps. “Ohhh, no. We’re not going there, soldier. Your little figurative freedoms aren’t going to—ohhhhh!”
Biting a woman’s nipple had never felt so fucking good.
Her scream was only the beginning. It jolted the air before squeezing his cock, making her taste all the sweeter as he flattened his tongue against her engorged nipple. He primed her other tip for the same feast, pinching the stiff red bud between his thumb and forefinger then twisting just enough to make her shriek again.
“Ahhh! Bastard!”
“Oh, peach. Flattery will get you everywhere.”
He scraped his teeth down the side of her breast, cherishing the feel of her flesh against his mouth. He alternated between long licks and little bites, yearning to mark her even harder, pledging to take it slow…at least this first time.
First time? You mean the only time? Yeah, get that through your goddamn head, asshole—the big one and the little one. She may not be a flighty club submissive but she’s also not the kind of woman who wants to ride off into the kinky sunset with you. She deserves a man who can give her stable and strong and normal, not a guy who grew up as a transatlantic chess piece, who learned relationships from magazines and eavesdropping on the flight attendants’ conversations…
The discomfort of the memories was eclipsed by the magic of Brynn’s thighs.
He moaned while gliding both hands along that flesh, like fine silk stretched over her solid dancer’s muscles, while tracing his tongue between her ribs and into the valley of her navel. He stopped there, exhaling hard, forcing control over the cock now threatening a full revolt if not set free soon. The wet spot on the inside of his pants only added fuel to that fucking fire.
Dear God, he couldn’t wait to taste her.
Clenching his jaw helped tether his erection, at least for a few more minutes. After that victory, he dipped his head lower. Pushed her legs wider. Inhaled the rich, heady ambrosia of her soaked, pouting pussy.
“Fuck.”
“Rhett!”
He pressed in with his nose. Took another long breath. “You smell so goddamn good. Really like peaches…only with a lot of other things added.” He slid his tongue out, venturing a tentative taste. “So many good things…”
Her intimate lips, engorged by arousal, quivered against his mouth. He licked in, moaning deep as drops of her juice flowed along his tongue. There was no sweeter nectar in the world. When he looked up to see her neck arched back, her breasts thrust up, and her hands curled into the pillows, the sampling tasted even better.
But he didn’t just want to sample.
Wrapping his hands around her legs, he angled deeper into her core. Drank from her openly, savoring her pulse beneath him, her folds around his tongue, her desire totally at his mercy. She let out a high moan as he widened his mouth, lunging then retreating, sucking then laving, always teasing the slick membranes that led to her body’s most secret sanctuary. As badly as his cock begged for its time there, he wasn’t going to rush any moment of taking her this high. And higher still…
“Rhett!” It was pitched high with need, finished off on a frantic gasp. “Oh…damn…I’m—I’m going to—I won’t be able to stop…”
A perfect segue to the moment that he did.
“No!” she yelped again. “Oh, no! What I meant was—”
“Oh, I know what you meant, peach.” He leaned back, enduring the cock-to-fly persecution again, praying that Blake was half the slapper the press said he was, and liked hanging with the ladies when he was here. If that was the case, there was a good chance the man kept a stash of rubbers—
Yessss.
Sometimes, the treasure really was right where expected. There in the nightstand drawer, neatly layered in one section of an organizational tray, were the square packets he sought. The other compartments of the organizer held a tube of water-based lube, a pink anal plug imprinted with Just For Her, a long-tubed vibrator, and a sizable cock ring.
Well, hell. Forget the notorious playboy. Dax Blake was a man after his own heart.
A sexy-as-fuck whimper trickled from Brynna as he withdrew one of the condoms. “Oh, thank God,” she blurted, closing her legs a little and gyrating her hips a lot. “Hurry. Please!”
Imagine that. It was the very thought ruling his brain—until she started her little bump-and-grind with the mattress. With his zipper only halfway down, Rhett stopped. Nailed her with the stare he saved for subbies trying to pull brat moves with him. She wasn’t anywhere near a brat, but she also wasn’t getting away with that sneaky shit.
“You want me to hurry, or are you interested in doing the job yourself?”
She froze, too. For a second. “You’re the one who left me like this!”
He felt a brow arch. Half a grin inch up. “I haven’t gone anywhere, peach.”
She huffed. “Really? Are you doing semantics now? Can we dither later? Please?”
The other side of his smile formed. Ohhhh, he just couldn’t help it—nor the words that flowed out, easy as the birds that glided over the lake outside. “Little peach pie, are you begging me?”
He braced for her profanity. Probably another huff, reinforced with a tormented girl growl.
Instead…she laughed.
It wasn’t a huge sound, or necessarily a pleased one—but the pure honesty of the sound was like nothing he’d ever witnessed, nor would soon forget. Against his better judgment, he felt his smirk widen. Joining her humor, letting her know how easily she could get under his skin, was against every Dom code that had to exist. But that was freeing, too. He didn’t expect anything the perfect little subbie thing from her, meaning she didn’t expect the flawless big-bad-Dom from him.
Her husky retort was the perfect break-in to his thoughts. “Well, I won’t tell anybody the begging thing happened if you don’t. How’s that?”
He went ahead and added a laugh. Dear fuck, was she really this cheeky little negotiating machine all the time? He wagered the answer was yes—in which case, it became clear how she and Dan Colton, Sir Dark and Dirty the First, were doomed from the start.
Bad news for Colton.
Even worse news for Rhett Lange.
He was a goddamn sucker for sassy negotiators—especially this one. By proposing her little deal, she challenged his brain. By challenging his brain, she revved his imagination. And God help the woman who cranked the throttle on his imagination.
“Deal,” he told her, prowling back down the bed. Enjoy the reprieve, foxy. As he positioned himself near her feet, he deftly added, “As long as you do it again for me.”
Her smile faded. “Do…what again?”
He didn’t answer until flattening his hands to the insides of her knees—and again spreading them wide.
“Beg.”
He didn’t stop there. With fingers skimming the insides of her legs, he moved back between them like hu
man liquid, rolling his shoulders with every new inch covered, flooding her in his unmistakable intent. Giggles aside, she was going to come hard for him. That meant letting him tease at the door of her submissiveness. Just a few light taps…in all the right places…
“I—I’m not comfortable—” She interrupted herself with a hiss, as he closed both thumbs over her pussy. “I told you, I can’t just be ordered to do it—”
“Not an order.” He paused when reaching the outer edges of her feminine triangle. “Only a suggested clause in our negotiation. Isn’t that how negotiations work? I give something, you give something.”
At first her reply was just shallow, sharp breaths. They intensified, quivering through her whole body, as Rhett pressed in a little more. The action pushed her intimate lips together, indirectly stroking her clit in the process. “Oh!” she finally exclaimed. “God! Oh!”
“Hmmm.” He pressed in one more time before dragging his fingers away, scraping toward her stomach. “Nice try but my name’s Rhett, sweetheart.”
Her legs fell open a little wider. Such a guileless move…she had no damn idea what kind of heaven and hell she opened for him, exposing more of her perfect paradise to his hungry stare. He wondered if she still tasted like creamed honey. Idiot; of course she did. What he longed to know now was the perfection of her tight sheath around his cock, taking him deeper with every thrust, until they detonated together.
But not until she gave up her end of the deal.
Not happening. Not yet. Though a stressed sheen coated her face and her muscles visibly shook, her lips thinned and her jaw jutted, hanging on to her defiance.
Rhett wavered between cursing and grinning. Her boldness was a thrill ride he hadn’t experienced in years. On the other hand, the shit might just be his undoing. At least he’d enjoy the crap out of the descent.
He chose the grin. It grew, slow and subtle, as he rose higher over her, positioning his thighs between hers—opening his pants enough that she felt the wet cotton of his briefs and the hump of the shaft beneath.