Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline)

by Sparrow Beckett

  “And what did I do to inspire this?” she asked, laughing to cover the flare of arousal that came with him manhandling her. He’d been working hard to get past the damage Marcel’s bullet had done to his deltoid. God, he was even more built than before, and he was growling in her ear.

  “You exist. That will always be enough. Now, quit treating me like I’m breakable, woman.” He drew the back of her dress up until he got an eyeful of the underwear she wasn’t wearing. There was a sound of pained disbelief. “I think you forgot something.”

  “Damn, did I leave the oven on again?”

  “You think you’re going to be a funny girl right now, huh?”

  The sound of his belt coming off only added to the slickness between her thighs. She loved him like this—horny, half-crazed, wild and almost out of control. Nervously, she rifled through her brain for the safeword she hadn’t yet used. Someday he’d probably make her use it, but so far he’d been good at sensing when she needed him to slow down. She braced, anticipating the hard sting of the leather connecting with her ass, but instead he pulled back her arms and belted her elbows together. She struggled to slip free while keeping an eye on him, but only succeeded in wriggling under his hungry scrutiny.

  He buried a fist in her hair. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  His breath was warm on her ear, and she could feel him fumbling with the button of his jeans already.

  “That depends on if you’re going to fuck me or not.”

  His callused palm slid over her bare ass then swatted her sharply. The tingle it left was delicious and she arched up for more.

  “What have we talked about, sweetness?” The eerie calm of his voice and tighter grip on her hair made this hotter. “I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready.”

  He wasn’t ready? Damn. Obviously, she was doing something wrong. She arched her back to try to entice him.

  He chuckled darkly then three more swats followed, stinging, ramping up the thudding of her heart.

  She struggled then, and he untangled his hand from her hair and held her down with his body, her bound arms trapped between them. With negligible effort he shoved her feet apart with his big boots and crammed his denim-covered erection against her sensitive flesh. It was even worse than wearing tight jeans with a seam that tended to ride up, but she rubbed against the rough fabric, trying to get his erection to hit just the right spot, but only managed to inch herself higher onto the hood.

  Even though he hadn’t exerted himself much, Fox was breathing hard. Maybe his cock was stealing his oxygen. He grabbed her hips hard and dragged her back down to him.

  “Are you done being a bad girl, Addison, or do you need me to teach you some manners?”

  She rested her forehead on the Spyder’s smooth paint, feeling like she was living an echo of the day they’d almost been late for her tattoo appointment.

  Her answer came out as a wordless moan. Damn, the man knew all the right things to say.

  His breath shook in her ear. “Maybe I should fuck your ass dry to remind you who’s in charge in this relationship,” he said, his voice low and nasty. “You didn’t like that very much the last time, did you?”

  She shook her head hard and whined, which only made him laugh. The spit he’d eventually used had made it more bearable, but she preferred lube and patience, even though her aching body had loved the display of dominance.

  “When you struggle it gives me the impression you want it rough.”

  “Nooo,” she objected. “You like challenges. I’m just being thoughtful.”

  He barked a laugh. “You don’t like it rough? Oh, but I think you do.” His fingers sought between her legs, finding her telltale wetness. “What has you dripping and ready for me? You like that idea, of me forcing myself into your poor defenseless ass again?”

  “No, please,” she gasped. He coaxed a finger into her pussy, and then a second, then circled a finger over her clit. She trembled, overwhelmed by the way he’d trained her body to react to him.

  He knew all too well he was the boss of her when it came to things like this, and the further he pushed her into the submissive role, the more she craved it. He kept teasing her that eventually she’d call him Sir even without meaning to, and she was progressively less resistant to the idea. When he put her on her knees lately, it felt so very right.

  “No, please, what?” he mocked. “You don’t want me to shove my cock into your tight little ass?”

  Spreading her legs wider, she pushed back against him.

  “Careful, little girl. You’re going to make me think you like being treated like this.”

  “Cock,” she whined. “Please. I’ll be good.” A residual part of her was still embarrassed he could make her so mindless and needy, but her own baser instincts were completely obsessed with him. When it came to this kind of sex, dignity could go screw itself.

  “Fuck,” he rumbled, more to himself than her. He withdrew his fingers, leaving her body empty and wanting, and then his cock was sliding up against her pussy, teasing, but not penetrating.

  “Now, please!” The head of his cock kept slipping over her clit, but not hard enough to get her off, even though she was so fucking close to orgasm she could taste it.

  “What?” He kept tormenting her, rubbing against her while keeping her pinned to the car with his big hand spanning her lower back. The way he controlled her body made her feel like his pathetic little toy, and she loved every second of it. “You want to go home now? Should I take you back to your apartment and drop you off?” He chuckled evilly.

  She meant to make some joke about her roommate, Mariella, helping her work off some frustration, but she knew better than to make him jealous when he was like this. The last time he’d covered her body in hickeys and bite marks, and although it had been fun, Luke and Atlas had teased her mercilessly. Besides, it would’ve distracted him from what she really wanted.

  “No, Fox.” She moaned. “Quit teasing. Don’t you want to be inside me? I need you.”

  “If you’re not more specific, I’ll use your mouth and leave you like this.”

  She hated that she loved that idea. He was twisting her poor mind.

  A sob of frustration escaped her, and he thrust into her with a sudden violence that stole her breath. Her body stretched to accommodate him, and she reveled in the rough way he used her. Hell, she was addicted to it. Slow was awesome, too, but his ferocity was awe-inspiring. Fox didn’t do things by half measures anymore—if he’d been alpha before, since he’d been shot he’d become even more intense. Like the threat of death had made him want to ride life even harder.

  Caught between him and the car, she couldn’t do more than accept his rough use. His fingers sought out her clit and pinched it, making her gasp and tense, forcing her body even closer to an explosive orgasm. His every thrust connected with her G-spot, and the overwhelming sensation made her eyes roll back. Her cries of pleasure were loud in her ears, over the howls of the wind, and when he rubbed a thumb over her anus she screeched, her body clamping down on his and freezing in place for a long, unbearable, thrilling moment until the orgasm broke over her in jarring, rippling waves. She closed her eyes against the pleasure that overtook her, that he forced her body to accept.

  He covered her body with his again, biting down on the spot between shoulder and neck, and fucking her hard, crushing her into the side of the car until his hips lost rhythm and he buried a hand in her hair, as though afraid she’d escape before he could fill her with come. Through the haze of her pleasure she could feel his cock jerk deep inside her, marking her as his own.

  When he was spent, his hot breath stirring the hair at her nape, she lay under him, shuddering with the aftershocks of her orgasm, feeling quiet settle over her like a warm, calming blanket. As much as Fox excited her, he made her feel safe. With him, she got the best of both.

  Cradl
ed beneath him, she felt as though he was her armor against the harsh world. They’d only known each other what? Six months? But now that they were together all day, almost every day, she couldn’t imagine going back to life without him. Although Marcel may not be a problem again, the danger of their work sometimes made her worry that they wouldn’t have a long life together. Then again, maybe it was better to live fast and hard while they were still young.

  He freed her arms from the confines of his belt. Pins and needles invaded, but nothing worse than when her foot fell asleep. While she flexed her arms, he sucked the spot between her shoulder and neck, where it still stung from his earlier bite.

  “Ugh,” she grunted. “What are you doing?”

  “Marking you as mine.”

  She tsked in mock annoyance. “You do realize that to see the mark, someone would have to see me partially naked.”

  “Hmm . . . good point.” He tensed over her, fiddling with something, and for a moment she thought he’d start fucking her again. The man was insatiable. He kept her sore, more often than not, and she loved it. The way he watched her, even when she was lazing around in track pants at his place, made her feel beautiful.

  His hand slammed down on the hood of the car, startling her.

  “What was that for?”

  “I thought of a better way to mark you. It’s a little more conventional, though, so I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

  Confused, she watched as he lifted his hand away. A ring glittered—it was hard to see in the low light, but it was definitely a ring. Not a dainty one, either, with the size of the rock in it.

  “What . . . ?”

  He nuzzled the side of her face, making her melt. “You should marry me.”

  The ring twinkled menacingly in the low light, like a distant star that brought the promise of eventual heartache. She loved him, but what would happen if he got sick or died? It would kill her. But then again, not having a ring wouldn’t make losing him easier.

  “Isn’t there a rule saying you can’t ask girls important, life-altering questions while you have them bent over the hood of a stolen car?”

  “Hmm. I forgot to check Miss Manners for that one.” His hips moved lazily, and he thrust into her a few times, making her groan with pleasure and forget about the lifetime proposition that hovered inches from her nose. When he stopped again and her eyes focused, she realized he was waiting for an answer.

  “I’m not answering you like this.” She tried to turn, to see his face.

  He pulled out of her then flipped her over. This was the most undignified proposal ever. She yanked her dress back down and pulled up his jeans.

  Now that she could see his face, look into his eyes, she gave the question some real thought. The whole thing was surreal. Who proposed like this? She’d never be able to tell anyone this story. They’d have to come up with a fake one.

  As she stared at Fox, she realized he was holding his breath. As if he were waiting for the most important thing in his life. As if she held the key to his happiness.

  She smiled, realizing that although this was unexpected, there was nothing in the world she wanted more.

  “Yes,” she said, beaming up at him.

  He exhaled then grinned back.

  “I love you, and I can’t imagine living without you.”

  She rose up on her toes and kissed his sexy mouth. He murmured a response while kissing her hungrily. Something about loving her too.

  Abruptly, she pulled away and gave him a stern look. “However, if you’re planning on posting this proposal to YouTube later, I’m safewording that shit right now.”

  He chuckled. “It would probably go over better on a kink site, but hey, at least I untied your arms.”

  “And they say romance is dead.”

  “I organized a flash mob, but they must have gotten lost.” He peered around them then shrugged.

  Laughing, she held out her hand and he picked the ring up and slid it onto her finger. It was a little too big, but not a bad guess.

  After he put it on, he kept her hand in his and watched her face. “I never planned on getting married. I always thought it would be Luke or Atlas who’d settle down while I focused on running the business until I was old and grumpy like my uncle.” He chuckled. “But lately . . . I’ve been worried that if I don’t hurry up and marry you, you’ll realize you can do way better than the likes of me.”

  She snorted but felt flattered at the same time. “So you’re saying the ring is just another way to trap me?”

  “It’s better than chaining you in my dungeon.”

  She wasn’t so sure about that.

  “We don’t need to be fancy or conventional.” He wasn’t the only one who’d never thought he’d end up married. To her, marriage had always been just another way to be trapped. To end a future full of freedom and opportunity.

  “I know, but I want it to be official. I want a tacky wedding with our family there and crappy catering, and my uncle drunk dancing on the table. I want everyone to know we’re permanent.”

  Her grin was so big her cheeks were starting to hurt. “That sounds . . . pretty fucking perfect.”

  Fox reached down and pulled her to sit on the hood of the car. Then he kissed her and she felt every ounce of his love poured into it.

  She’d always thought marriage would result in a boring, dead-end life, but with Fox, even marriage felt like an adventure. Their relationship was a high she could see herself riding forever.

  And she never wanted the buzz to end.

  Acknowledgments

  And now for the part of the book no one reads, but stay tuned because there’ll be a cute clip of us getting into a bar fight at the end of this segment . . .

  First, we’d like to thank our agent, Nicole Resciniti from The Seymour Agency, for helping us steer our career, always having our backs, and for answering our incessant questions . . . and for making us seem classy and professional when you meet with editors on our behalf. Without you we never would have had any hope of working with Kristine or taking over the Tristate area.

  Also, we’d like to thank the best editor ever, Kristine Swartz from Penguin InterMix, for her patience and insightful feedback. You always find ways to help us improve our manuscripts, and yet give us that information without making us cry and gnash our teeth. You’ll always be welcome in our super-secret writing lair—just let us know when you’re coming so we can lock the killer robots in the garage.

  Thanks to our copyeditor for her stoic willingness to look up any number of slang terms, swears, and vulgar words to make sure we’re spelling them right and that they’re grammatically correct. We’re really sorry you have to leave us notes like—“I think you meant ass here, not pussy.” When we conquer the Tristate area, we’ll make sure we skip your house and we’ll try to keep the noise down.

  We never would have done so well without the Penguin InterMix publicity team. Thanks so much to Ryanne Probst who isn’t afraid to promote our books, even in places where people are discussing much fancier ones.

  Thanks to Danielle Mazzella Di Bosco, our cover art director, for understanding exactly what we were hoping to convey with our covers, and nailing it.

  As always, thanks to our street team, Sparrow’s Circus, and to our friends in the Badass Brats street team, and the Angelic Book Club. We appreciate all of your help in getting the word out about our books, and we treasure your friendship. Feel free to ride the killer robots anytime, but make sure you knock before entering the super-secret writing cave. We all remember what happened last time. There’s extra brain bleach in the medicine cabinet, so help yourself.

  Thanks to our husbands and families, who will (hopefully) never read this. You remind us about wild things like real life, outside, and the need for food and sleep. We shall conquer the Tristate area in your honor.

  Finally, than
ks to the strange urge that convinced Justice that striking up a conversation with a stranger on the internet was a good idea. Who’d have guessed we’d end up being writing partners, and go on to vanquish our enemies together? Shit—who’s vanquishing today and who’s revising? *checks schedule*

  The shot pans back, back, until the entire Tristate area is visible, then zooms in on a random bar on a random street in the middle of a random part of the city. Sorcha comes stumbling back to the table from the bar.

  “They cut me off again,” she sighs wearily. “What kind of dessert bar cuts a woman off?”

  Justice rises from the table. Melodramatically, she breaks her wooden chair into bits, hefting one of its legs like a club. “Oh, we’ll get more cheesecake.” Justice hits the secret button that summons the killer robots, knowing they’ll bust up the place, but resigned to paying for the renovations later. It would all be worth it for another slice of the chocolate decadence . . .

  Look for the next Masters of Adrenaline novel,

  FUELING HIS FIRE,

  available October 2016 from InterMix.

  “You’re wearing that?” Chloe crinkled her nose as she looked Ophelia over. “You can’t keep dressing like you’re going to a funeral, O.”

  “No.” Priya clucked her tongue. “She looks like she’s homeless and going to a funeral.”

  Ophelia rolled her eyes and leaned on the edge of the vanity, watching her friends primp in the mirror. Two months ago, she would have agreed with them. Wearing black skinny jeans and a plain black tank top to one of the biggest parties of the year would probably get her onto some “Worst Dressed” list on a celebrity gossip website. She’d tried to make her outfit more chic by adding her Jimmy Choos and a diamond necklace but apparently it wasn’t enough.

  Funny how everything could change in just a day. A moment even. A phone call.

  Two months ago she cared about fashion. Two months ago, she would’ve been worried about whether her lipstick shade complimented her complexion or not. But lately, she was having trouble giving two flying fucks about clothes or makeup.