Make It Hurt (Texas Bounty)

by Jackie Ashenden

  “Uh-huh.” His jeans were open now, her gaze helplessly drawn to the trail of black hair that led down beneath the waistband. “Maybe you should try staring at me instead.”

  Nora swallowed, her heartbeat loud in her head. She didn’t want to stare at him. She wanted the fight.

  “I thought you wanted me to open my legs.” With an effort, she lifted her gaze from his zipper to his face. Not that that was any easier, not when the look in his eyes made her nearly self-combust. “Perhaps you’d better think about it some more since you’re clearly having problems making your mind up.”

  He smiled, another one of his dark, hungry smiles that made heat break out all over her body. “Oh, I have no problem with making my mind up. I know exactly what I want. I think it’s you who’s got the problem, golden girl. You want to fight me, you want to win against me, you want me to make you do what you’re telling yourself you don’t want because you can’t bear to admit it to yourself.” His hands dropped to the waistband of his jeans. “Admitting what you want isn’t a failure, sweetheart. It isn’t a weakness. But if you want me to make you do it so you don’t have to blame yourself later, then I’m okay with that.” That smile of his gleamed white. “You can fight me, Nora. But you won’t win.” Then, as if to prove his point, he shoved down his jeans and underwear and stepped out of them.

  She blinked, struggling to get a breath.

  Smith had been absolutely magnificent naked before. He was even more magnificent now. Powerful thighs, long lean calves. His cock big and hard and ready for action.

  He stared at her without any self-consciousness at all, a man who was glorious and knew it. Either that or he just didn’t care.

  “You’re kind of a dick,” she said, trying and failing to keep the hoarse edge out of it. “An arrogant dick.”

  That smile of his only grew wider. “Yeah. And you love it.”

  She did love it. That was the problem. And she loved it even more when his hand slid down to the base of that magnificent cock and his fingers slid around it, and he gripped himself hard.

  She didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t drag her gaze away as he began to move his hand up and down, pumping himself in a lazy movement. Holy shit, she’d never thought watching a man touch himself would be hot, but it was.

  His smile was wicked, his eyes glittering. “Feels good, Nora. But I bet your hand doing this would feel even better.”

  “You seem to be handling things all on your own.” Her voice sounded scratchy and not at all like hers. She needed to look away, she really did. But her gaze remained firmly on the long, slow movement of his hand, on the flex and release of his abs, on the tension in his forearm, and the hard, hot length he held in his palm.

  What’s the point fighting him? Sure, you want to win, but winning isn’t everything. Not when losing means he gets to make you feel good…

  And he would make her feel good. He’d make her feel so good.

  The throb between her legs intensified, an ache that seemed to pulse in time with the movement of his hand on his cock, making her want to do exactly what he said, spread her legs so he could see.

  He made a low sound of pleasure in his throat. “I can keep doing this all day, believe me. Stamina is something I’m not short on.”

  He wasn’t short on anything anywhere else either.

  Nora dragged her gaze away from his hand, up over the hard planes of his chest, up to his magnetic, intense face. In his eyes heat flamed, pleasure and hunger a bright, burning fire. There was a stain of red along his high cheekbones, his breathing coming faster, harsher in the silence of the room.

  He would get himself off without her, she could see it in his face.

  This was stupid. Denying herself what they both wanted for her pride’s sake was stupid.

  Is it pride, though? Or are you just scared?

  She caught her breath. Maybe she was. Maybe she was afraid that all those old feelings she’d thought she’d long since gotten rid of were still there, bubbling away under the surface. And that passion would make them break free.

  You know they’re still there, you can feel them.

  Okay, so maybe they were. But she was different now. She was tougher, and those old feelings were no longer part of the equation, not if she didn’t want them to be. Except for lust, of course, and she had plenty of that going on right now.

  And apart from all of that, losing one fight didn’t mean losing the entire war.

  Slowly, Nora let her legs fall open, giving him the view he’d asked for.

  A low growl escaped him, his attention dipping down, and maybe the deep and obvious satisfaction that flared across his face would have irritated her if she hadn’t noticed the way he seemed as much in thrall to what she was doing as she was to him.

  It only increased the pressure of that nagging ache.

  Smith’s hand didn’t stop and he didn’t move, his gaze flicking back up to hers. “You’re gonna do what I tell you to from now on, hmmm? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

  “If you say so.”

  He gave a low, husky laugh that whispered all over her skin, making the heat inside her double. “Oh, no, gimme the words, golden girl. I wanna hear them.”

  Dammit. He was going to make her say it, the bastard.

  Nora shifted on the couch, made herself meet his brilliant gaze. “Yes. I’ll do whatever you say, Smith.”

  His mouth turned up. “Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” His hand dropped away and he was coming forward and kneeling in front of her the way he had before, his hands on the couch cushions on either side of her hips, the intense heat of his beautiful, perfect body hotter than the midsummer Texas sun.

  She trembled at that and the hungry look in his eyes, unconsciously digging her fingers into the leather of the couch. Her heart was raging behind her ribs and she didn’t know what to do or what to say. Her body felt like it was on the brink of something and the slightest touch would push it over.

  “Keep still,” he murmured, his gaze dipping down between her thighs again. “That’s all I want you to do. Don’t move.”

  “A-And if I do?” Goddammit, she hated that stutter.

  “If you do?” he echoed softly. “Well, then…I’ll stop.” He lifted his hands from the couch cushions and gently laid them on her inner thighs, applying pressure, easing them wider apart, making her heart beat even harder. “And you won’t want me to stop, I guarantee it.”

  She tried to keep still, she really did. But it was almost impossible when he bent his head, when his hot breath whispered over her aching flesh. Her fingers dug into the leather even harder and she tried to moderate her breathing. But that, too, was impossible.

  Then he slid his fingers closer, spreading her delicate flesh and holding it open, and he bent closer, touching his tongue lightly to her throbbing clit and every muscle in her body tensed like she’d been touched with a live cable.

  He did it again and again, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, making her jerk, making her gasp, making lights burst behind her eyes. Pleasure was an electric current, shocking her over and over, the sounds of her short gasps loud in the room.

  She fell back against the couch, her whole body shaking as he kept up the movement of his tongue, licking and licking and licking. “S-Smith.” His name was a hoarse whisper in the back of her throat and she didn’t know why she said it.

  “I know.” The words a rough, heated growl, making her shiver uncontrollably. “I’d tell you I’m gonna make it all better soon, but that would be lying. I’m gonna torture you, baby girl. You taste so good, I don’t want this to end.”

  Those big, warm hands pressed harder, spreading her wider, and she couldn’t stop the groan that escaped her; the feeling of being held open to him was so erotic she almost couldn’t stand it. Then he bent and ran his tongue straight up the center of her pussy and she just about levitated off the couch. “Smith!”

  He didn’t stop. His hands were hard on her hips,
holding her down, and his tongue was there, on her wet, aching flesh, licking her up and down, long and slow. She groaned, arching helplessly, lifting against his imprisoning hands.

  Why the hell had she resisted this? Why had she resisted him, when what he was doing made her feel so unbelievably good? She was clearly insane.

  He pushed his tongue inside her, shifting one hand to her stomach and placing his palm there, pressing her down at the same time. Which increased the intensity of the sensation.

  “Oh, my God…” She arched again, trying to urge his tongue deeper or higher, she wasn’t sure which. She just wanted more, Jesus, so much more.

  But he seemed to be in no hurry, keeping up those slow, leisurely licks, then changing it up with some nips and kisses to the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thighs. The heavy hand on her stomach didn’t move, but when he eased a thumb down to brush nearly-but-not-quite against her clit, she just about exploded.

  Apparently he hadn’t been kidding when he said he was going to torture her.

  Everything began to narrow, the world fading away until there was only Smith’s tongue on her pussy, licking her, licking into her. Feasting on her as if he was a food critic and she was a dish he’d been longing to taste. Taking his time, savoring her.

  Her pride slid from her grip and she began to beg him, shifting restlessly under his hands. The only thing that mattered was the building pleasure and the end that was going to come. The end she was desperate for.

  He murmured things to her, whispering soft, filthy things against her slick flesh that added yet more erotic layers to the sensations.

  There were tears in her eyes, and somehow her fingers had wound themselves into the thick, black silk of his hair, gripping him for dear life. She kept saying his name, kept begging, because now she had no shame and this was getting to be too much for her.

  Eventually, he shifted, sliding his hands beneath her butt and lifting her, gathering her close. The soft prickle of his beard brushing over her tender skin was almost painful, and when he began to sip at her gently, like she was a cup of wine, the pleasure become an agony.

  She said things, she didn’t know what they were. She sobbed. She begged for mercy.

  But he didn’t give her any. He kept sipping, licking, and only when she’d lost the power of speech entirely did he push his tongue deep inside her, pressing down on her clit with his thumb as he did so.

  Nora screamed, her whole body convulsing as the pleasure detonated, sending a shock wave through each and every nerve ending, the intensity of it blinding her.

  She couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe. All she could do was lie there with her eyes tightly closed, her body shaking so much it was amazing she hadn’t shaken herself apart, as he eased her butt back down onto the couch, his hands sliding out from underneath her, stroking down her thighs as if to calm her. The echo of her cries throbbed in the air around them, her own breathing loud and way too fast.

  Oh, Jesus. He’d ruined her. The bastard had ruined her.

  She didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t want to look at him, so she kept lying there unmoving, trying to put herself back together again.

  He didn’t say anything, but she felt the withdrawal of his heat as if he’d moved away. There was no other sound—God knew how such a big man managed to move so silently—and she was tempted to open her eyes just to see where he’d gotten to.

  But then came a familiar rustling sound and she realized what he was doing. A wash of heat went through her.

  “Come here.” His voice was soft, but implacable, his arms sliding beneath her, lifting her, the solid heat of him under her.

  She opened her eyes to find him kneeling on the couch with her sitting astride him, her legs on either side of his lean hips. His expression was tight with hunger, his eyes black and hot. He held her gaze and leaned forward slowly, gripping the back of the couch. “Put me inside you,” he ordered roughly. “Do it.”

  “Say please.” Jesus. She was an idiot. What had made her say that? There was a devil in her that made her push and she couldn’t resist.

  “You do not want to fuck with me right now, little girl.” His voice was taut, harsh, almost a growl, and there was a feral glitter in his eyes. “Put me inside you. Now.”

  Another shiver racked her at the demand, at how close to the edge he was.

  You made him like that. You pushed him there.

  She wanted to smile, but even she knew that would be a step too far. So she reached down between them, finding the hard length of his cock and wrapping her fingers around him. He hissed as she touched him, his muscles tensing, and a deep satisfaction unfolded inside her. She’d never guessed she’d still have this power over him, not after what she’d done to him and not after so many years.

  It was good to know.

  Lifting her hips, Nora guided him to her, spreading herself open for him. Then it was her turn to tense, because it had been a long time since she’d done this with anyone and he was big.

  “Look at me.”

  The rough, raw note in the words was impossible to resist and she met his gaze, holding it, trembling a little as he flexed his hips, pushing slowly into her. He didn’t say anything, pinning her there with the look in his eyes as he pushed deeper, her flesh at first protesting then stretching around him, letting him in.

  It was nearly too much; her breathing was ragged, quivering, and she was unable to help herself as the burn of him inside her intensified. He slid deeper, his hips pushing insistently against hers, pressing her back to the couch.

  “Fuck, you feel so good,” he said thickly. “Even better than I remember.”

  She was panting now, her hands reaching for his shoulders, wanting something to hold onto. He was so hot, surrounding her with smooth skin and hard muscle, the slight prickle of crisp hair. The eagle on his chest flexed with his movements, the tattoos on his biceps moving as his fingers closed on the back of the couch.

  She groaned, sliding her hands up the powerful column of his neck, cupping his strong jaw with her hands, his beard soft against her palms. Had it been like this before? Had it felt this good? This overwhelming?

  A weird panic rose up inside her and she leaned forward, suddenly needing to do something, take charge of this in some way, pressing her mouth to his in a desperate kiss.

  He gave a rumbling growl, meeting her kiss with his own as he pulled his hips back and drove them forward, slamming back into her. Pleasure was an electric shock, a jagged bolt of lightning, and she tightened her legs around his waist, kissing him harder as she held on tight to his jaw. Again, and again, driving deep and hard, he pinned her to the leather as he stroked in and out.

  She couldn’t believe how quickly the sensation began to build, especially given that she’d had two orgasms already that day, and it made her weird panic intensify. Her fingers pressed hard against his skin as she struggled to ground herself, gripping him tighter, kissing him deeper, with more hunger as he slammed her back into the couch, over and over.

  It was desperate, intense, the sound of flesh meeting flesh an erotic counterpoint to the harsh pants of their breathing.

  God, he was right. This was so much better. Because she was stronger now, more sure of herself, more confident, and it was less about the wonder of discovery and more of how much she could take. How much they both could take.

  Nora found herself arching to meet him in a way she hadn’t before, moving with him, being demanding in a way that her shy, nervous eighteen-year-old self wouldn’t have. She flexed her hips in time with his, bit his lower lip, then pushed her tongue inside his mouth, exploring him insistently.

  He made a feral sound deep in his throat, his movements becoming even more powerful, kissing her back as hungrily as she was kissing him. This was the fight she’d wanted, a subtle fight for dominance, and she thought he was probably letting her get the upper hand, but she didn’t care, not when the pleasure he was giving her was this good.

  Perspiration made the
ir skin slippery and she had to release him, her hands sliding down his throat to dig into his powerful shoulders and hold on. Not that he was going to let her go anywhere, not when each driving thrust held her pinned.

  She panted, staring up into his tar-black eyes, watching pleasure light them, glorying in the knowledge that this was her doing. That she was breaking him apart as much as he was breaking her.

  “You want me,” he said roughly, his hips slamming into hers, biceps flexing, taut intensity in his face. “Tell me, Nora.”

  She couldn’t deny it, couldn’t bring herself to lie. “Yes. I…want you.”

  “You always have.” Another powerful thrust. “You always will.”

  “I…always have. I always…God…will.” Somehow he’d found another angle, the base of his cock hitting her clit in a way that made her see stars. She arched back, her hips shifting in time with his, riding him.

  “Yeah, you do.” His head dropped, his mouth against her skin, teeth brushing the delicate cords of her neck. “It’ll always be me, golden girl. Always.”

  She heard him dimly, the driving pleasure insistent, demanding. And nothing seemed to matter but the movement of their bodies together, the push of him inside her.

  Her thighs squeezed tighter around him, holding onto him as he upped the pace, moving faster, deeper, harder. She groaned and put her head back, gasping aloud, her nails digging into his skin.

  “That’s right,” he whispered, hot and dark against her neck. “Scratch me, baby. Bite me. I wanna see your marks in the morning.”

  So she did. She scratched him, all the way down his long, powerful back as the pleasure squeezed her in a vise. As each stroke seemed to turn her inside out. And when it felt like she couldn’t take it anymore, when she felt like nothing more than a never-ending cresting wave that only got bigger and never broke, he moved one hand, slipping it down between their bodies. And he touched her, a light brush of his fingers that sent her off the edge of the world.

  And out into space.