Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline)

by Sparrow Beckett

  In a matter of a few breaths, he’d stripped her out of her T-shirt and jeans. The bra was already in her bag, since the strap would have rubbed her tattoo. She couldn’t believe he’d paid to get her the tattoo she’d wanted. Every time it crossed her mind, she grinned at him. She wished she’d have been bold enough to get it on her arm so she could look at it all the time, but there was time for that in the future. Easing her parents into the tattoo world seemed kinder.

  When he’d slipped her panties down her legs, he moved the leather ottoman into the middle of the room. “Kneel here.”

  “Bossy much?”

  “You like me bossy.” He swatted her ass.

  “Maybe,” she said coyly, eyeing the ottoman like she had to consider whether to comply.

  “Then do what you’re told and maybe I’ll let you come.”

  The man was insufferable and she loved every minute of it. Apparently he really got off on orgasm control. It seemed to be a running theme. Not that she was complaining. Being made to wait, to suffer, seemed annoying at first but she couldn’t deny it made orgasms that much more mind-blowing.

  The feel of his gaze on her was an invasive caress. As she crawled onto the ottoman, she gave him a good look at everything she owned.

  “Fuuuck,” she heard him whisper to himself. “Evil, evil woman.”

  Obediently, she knelt, knees spread, shoulders back, breasts outthrust. The air quivered with the buildup of sexual tension.

  He walked slowly around her, assessing her, trailing a gentle finger over her skin here and there so that she never knew when a touch was coming. Her nipples ached, and when the pad of his finger trailed over their peaks, she shuddered, spreading her knees wider.

  When he stopped behind her, he murmured, “Can I take a picture of you from behind like this?”

  She hesitated, thinking about refusing, but if she trusted him to tie her up, and to not tell anyone she stole cars, she could trust him with a few naughty pictures, right? “You won’t show anyone?”

  “Of course not. It’s just for me.”

  “Okay.” Was he just flattering her, or would he actually look at the pictures again sometime? Damn. What if he lay back in bed and jerked off looking at them? She visualized him stroking himself while staring at a pic of her naked ass and she blushed hotly.

  She heard him take out his phone and the click of a photo being taken, then he held his phone in front of her to show her the picture. In the shot, it was obvious she was nude and in a very submissive headspace, but the angle kept her face and the more intimate parts of her body private. He’d made her look beautiful.

  “So how many pictures like that are on your phone?”

  He leaned closer. “Just the one of you,” he breathed in her ear. “Because you’re perfect.”

  She mewled and shuddered at the caress of his breath, glad he was kind enough to lie. If it wasn’t a lie, though . . . it moved things to dangerous territory. It might mean something she wasn’t ready for.

  “I could take pictures of you all day,” he said, looking from her to the phone, as though contemplating taking more.

  “Nooo,” she said, feeling self-conscious. “You should touch me, instead.”

  “You think so?”

  She nodded, arching her back to thrust her breasts out further, trying to lure him closer again.

  “Touch you here?” His hands hovered over her breasts.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Hands and knees.”

  She went to her hands and knees immediately, even though it made her feel like a circus animal. “Do I get a treat?”

  He smacked her ass then ran his hands over her body like he owned her, kneading her flesh, groping her, cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers. Her whole body shook with need before he went anywhere near her clit. When he finally worked his way downward, he squeezed her labia together, frustrating her even more. A finger drew a line from her pussy up toward her ass. She squeezed her eyes closed and tensed, but didn’t stop him. He brushed the tip of his finger back and forth over her anus, sending jolts of mortifying desire through her.

  “You really don’t want to like this.”

  “Stop,” she begged, afraid to move.

  “Hmm . . . not your safeword, so I don’t believe you honestly want me to stop.” He paused, but when she didn’t say anything, he chuckled quietly. “You stay so still when you don’t like something, but you do the same when you really do. It’s hard to tell which is which,” he mused.

  Maybe her mouth was hanging open, but at least she was managing not to moan. A finger slid into her pussy and the sound she’d been holding in escaped from her mouth as a loud moan.

  “Hmm. Are you all right, Addison? You sound like you’re upset about something.”

  If he was expecting an answer, he was going to be disappointed. She dug her nails into the ottoman, gritting her teeth as he pumped his finger inside her and toggled her clit. The room’s heavy air-conditioning chilled the sweat that had broken out on her skin. Between the release of tension after her long tattoo session, and the renewed stress on her body, she was overwhelmed.

  She wasn’t going to beg. Not again. It couldn’t end up with her being the one who lost control every time they fooled around. Maybe it wasn’t a fair contest if he didn’t know about it, but if he fucked her before he made her beg, she won. That was fair, right?

  “I’m fine,” she said tightly. “Just . . . fuck me already.” Huh. That had probably been the wrong thing to say.

  “Fine? Am I boring you?” He grabbed her by the back of the hair, right against the scalp and pulled her to her feet, then higher until she was standing on her toes and whimpering. “Oh, baby girl. You have no idea how much I love that sound.”

  Maintaining his tight grip on her hair, he walked her across the large open space to the bedroom. The bed was made up with expensive-looking fresh white linens. If this place still secretly ran as a hotel, it was a really high-end one.

  He let go of her hair and shoved her onto the bed hard enough she bounced, then grabbed her ankle and dragged her closer. His weight dipped the bed, and before she knew what he was planning to do, she was draped facedown over his lap. At least the mattress wasn’t letting her dangle, even if it felt like her ass was much higher up than the rest of her.

  “I thought you weren’t into being a capital D Dominant.” It sounded grumpy, but she had a serious case of blue balls, and he didn’t seem to be in a rush to fix that anymore.

  “No, no, sunshine. I don’t like titles,” he corrected. “They’re limiting. But as you know, I do enjoy being in control—of you, specifically.”

  Why was the fact that he was still fully dressed making her feel even more submissive to him? She tried to squirm away, but he held her in place without effort. Damn him and those big, sexy muscles.

  “But what did I do?” She dug her fingers into the pristine white bedspread, bracing herself for the worst.

  “You implied I was boring you, and you were rude and demanding.” He smoothed her hair and she sighed at the affectionate gesture. “You need to be taught that things will happen when I want them to, and not a minute sooner.”

  “But!” she objected, not sure what she was going to say next. A good argument wasn’t forthcoming. “But you want to fuck me. Why are you making me wait?”

  “I’ve had a raging hard-on since before we left my garage. Why shouldn’t I make you wait?”

  “But I’ve been horny since then too!” He was punishing her for that? It was his own damn fault. If he would have told her where they were going, she wouldn’t have started anything they couldn’t finish. Well . . . maybe that was a lie. Teasing him was fun, but not if he was going to start taking it out on her hide. “Maybe I should punish you, since you’re the one who started it. Maybe I should just safeword and walk out of here. You�
��re too cocky for your own good.”

  “Like you’d walk away now, before I get you off.”

  That made her glare at the duvet, but mostly because it was true. How was she supposed to gain the upper hand with him if he already knew her too well?

  Without warning, one of his big hands came down on her ass—twice, three times, picking up force with each smack until her butt was on fire and her teeth were rattling. The man knew what he was doing, and made it hurt in ways she never wanted to end. By the time he hit twenty her brain melted into a puddle which oozed out of her mouth and was rapidly soaking the bedding.

  “Still bored?” he finally asked, just as she considered using her safeword.

  “No, Fox.” Fuck, she’d almost said “Sir.” It was short and almost sounded the same, at least in her current frame of mind.

  “Spread your legs,” he growled.

  “No!” No? No, what? She wasn’t sure if she was refusing to do what he said, or complaining about how the spanking had made her feel. Or maybe she was protesting the rush of bone-weakening heat that was her body’s automatic reaction to his commands. For a not-Dom the man was pretty damn dommy. Whenever she was around him, her body was a groupie at his rock concert. It was undignified, but she didn’t seem to have any control over her reactions to him.

  “Now, Addison, or you’re not going to like the consequences.” Oh god, his tone would have melted her panties off if he’d left her wearing any.

  She spread her legs with feigned reluctance, but if he didn’t touch her soon, she was pretty sure she was going to die.

  He slid what felt like two fingers back into her, filling her and making her choke on the sensation. All the bits between her legs throbbed. He let a finger trail to the front and back of her entrance, rubbing at her clit and her ass. As much as she wanted to, he held her still and wouldn’t let her push back harder against his fingers. He teased and toyed with her, playing her body like he owned it and knew it more intimately than she did, keeping her on the verge of coming without letting her go over.

  In her head there was plenty of screaming and begging, but she refused to do more than breathe like she’d spent too long on the stair climber at the gym. When she came, she was going to come so fucking hard, but she wanted his cock, not his fingers.

  He stopped too soon, leaving her on the very edge of a now-ruined and desperately needed orgasm.

  “No, no, no!” she screeched. She struggled to get up, but he held her down.

  “No, what?”

  All she managed was a series of incoherent whines.

  “You seem upset about something,” he replied, sounding completely unaffected, but the hard-on digging into her hip said otherwise.

  “Stop being a tease.”

  “It’s good for you.” She couldn’t see him from this position, but his voice was full of amusement that had an edge. “Are you that against asking nicely for what you need?”

  “I don’t make you ask for what you need, so why should I have to ask?”

  “Because you don’t get to come until I let you.”

  “You can’t control what I do when you’re not around,” she grumbled. Okay, so her latest masturbation fantasy starred him not letting her come, and a few times she’d even stopped before she got off, but he didn’t need that kind of boost to his ego. How was it possible for him to give her a fetish for orgasm denial? It seemed counterintuitive.

  “Maybe not, but when you’re with me, you’ll ask to come like a good girl.”

  Mentally daring him to stop her, she forced a hand down between her legs, and almost touched her clit when he caught her and forced both arms behind her back, pinning them there. He lifted his knees, and her ass with them, and bit her hard on her already throbbing ass cheek. Fuck! The pain only made her hotter for him.

  He stood gradually, and slid her down his legs and onto the floor. Standing, he towered over her. She scrambled to get up, but he caught her by the hair when she’d reached her knees.

  “Stay where you belong, woman.”

  Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

  She shivered, gazing up at him, feeling the truth of what he’d said.

  A hand gripped her chin. “Look at me and ask nicely for what you want.”

  His blue eyes were mesmerizing. A door inside her that she’d always kept heavily locked was opening to him, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  He stared into her, like he was learning every secret she’d tried to keep hidden from herself. The instinct to rub against his legs like a tame housecat was difficult to overcome.

  Ask nicely for what she wanted? An orgasm or five would be nice, but it was the barest minimum of what she wanted from him.

  What I really want is to know how you feel about me, because I think I’m accidentally falling in love with you.

  Love? Fuck. She pushed the thought away. Euphoria from that tattoo, and the date, and the frustrated orgasm were to blame. It wasn’t love, it was just . . . feelings tricking her. Falling in love with a car thief would be a bad idea. And two thieves together? They were, by nature, untrustworthy, right? So why did she trust him so implicitly?

  “What do you want, baby?” he coaxed.

  “Whatever you want, Fox,” she whispered. His name came out of her mouth with far too much reverence than it should have. She pulled her chin from his grasp and latched onto one of his fingers, sucking it like it was his cock. His eyes went half-lidded, and he watched her as though the spell between them went both ways.

  “What if I don’t want you to come?”

  She released his finger and sat back on her heels. “Then I’ll wait.”

  A silent conversation transpired between them. She caught that he wanted her and she was making him feel things he wasn’t comfortable with.

  Welcome to the club.

  Silently, he stripped out of his clothes and yanked back the blankets on the bed, leaving the bottom sheet and a pillow, but throwing the rest on the floor. She couldn’t decide whether to drool over his chest, his arms, his stomach muscles, or the thick, hard cock he kept waving in front of her face.

  “Up.”

  She got back onto the bed and he guided her belly down on the mattress, wedging the pillow under her hips. Hopefully he was done messing with her and would finally give her what she needed.

  “Show me how you touch yourself when you think about me,” he commanded.

  “What?” She blushed so hard it felt like her cheeks were being scalded. “I don’t—”

  “Liar.”

  She bit her lip. “I wasn’t going to deny it.” Even though it was so fucking conceited of him to assume that. The truth of it was completely irrelevant. “I was just going to say I don’t really know how to do that facedown.”

  A laugh rumbled from his chest. “Lying on your new tattoo is a bad idea. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  “But . . . I can’t if you’re watching,” she lied.

  “You were going to a few minutes ago.”

  “That was different. It was a threat to get you to do what I wanted.”

  “Trying to trick me into doing what you want comes with consequences. Now I want to watch. Get to it.”

  Nothing like putting a girl on the spot. She was horny and wanted to come, but she knew he wouldn’t make it that easy. Ugh. The man had an incredible dick and she really wanted him to use it on her. But if he wanted to watch . . . Maybe it would make things happen faster.

  She shut her eyes and slid a hand under her belly, wriggling it lower to the split in her sex.

  He reached for something, then pulled his T-shirt over her head, startling her. When it covered her eyes, he twisted it and it stayed in place after a bit of fiddling. It was surprisingly effective as a blindfold.

  “Now you can pretend I’m not here.”

  Sure. Forget
ting that there was a sexy, hard-muscled man in bed with her watching her masturbate would be easy.

  The first touch of her finger on her stiff clit made her gasp, and Fox groaned in appreciation. Knowing it was turning him on made it less awkward.

  Normally, when she was masturbating she would have done her best to stay silent—she’d never lived alone and there were certain things your roommate didn’t want to know. With Fox watching, she wouldn’t hold back.

  Half of her mind ran through the graphic memory of him torturing her with the feather, and the other half was aware of every shift of his body on the bed next to her. The feather barely touching her clit, his gaze hot, his big body rippling with tattooed muscle as he tormented her.

  In real time, his mouth was on her neck, drifting down her spine, breathing kisses on sensitized skin. She teased herself, moaning at the feel of his lips tickling over the curve of her ass, to her thigh and the back of her knee. Thoughts flashed past, impossible to latch onto. The smell of him from his shirt. The heat in his gaze when he held her down for the tattoo. How the tattoo he’d paid a small fortune for felt like a mark of ownership. The feel of his cock deep inside her—the cock she longed for, that he was withholding.

  Shuddering, she was so close, trying to wait, but he was more patient than she imagined. He nipped the inside of her thigh and she cried out and arched back for his mouth, her mind a haze of need.

  “Please, Fox,” she whimpered, vaguely aware she was losing her own private game. She was going to beg but she didn’t care about winning anymore.

  “Please, what?” he asked. The breath from his words streamed over the heated flesh of her pussy. He was close enough to put his mouth there, but he was hovering, teasing, his hands gripping her thighs so she couldn’t get any closer.

  “Oh god, please fuck me.”

  “I’m sure you know how to get yourself off.”

  She tried, but she was too wound up to make it work.

  “What’s the matter with my girl?” She felt him stretch out next to her then he was kissing the parts of her face not covered by the blindfold.

  His girl? He’d called her his to the other guys today, but she’d thought it was just posturing, or claiming her just so they’d leave her alone. Did really he think of her as his? Why did that idea appeal to her? She didn’t want a relationship, just someone to have fun with. He needed to quit using her body to get access to her mind. She was going to have to put her foot down about that . . . sometime.