Bedding The Bad Boy (Dalton Brothers Novels)

by Virna DePaul

  “When it comes to sex, Grace, I’m whatever a woman needs me to be.”

  “And you think I need a man who’s crude?”

  “Baby, I think you need a man who’s willing to talk straight. One who’s willing to move beyond what one might expect and get down to business with giving you what you need. To know what you need, I need to ask questions and not be held back by your sense of modesty. I want to give it to you good, Grace, and that means knowing what’ll make you come.”

  “Nothin’,” she said quickly. “Nothin’ makes me come with a man and it isn’t as if I haven’t tried. I’ve nevah been good at talkin’ about sex, but I’m not a prude. I’ve tried plenty of things, with plenty of men, and all of them have failed.”

  Max grinned. “You forget you’re in Vegas. And you forget how motivated I am. Make no mistake. You’re about to get lucky.”

  “It’s about time,” she said. “Does that mean we’re actually going to stop lollygagging around and have sex now?”

  “I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on what you need and how we’re going to get you where you need to go.”

  “What exactly do I need?”

  “A partner who wants to play. One who’s willing to push you while at the same time holding off giving you his dick until your wild for it. One who’s going to prove he’s not settling, but enjoying every fucking second of that exquisite torture right along with you. There’s no end goal, because you’re not in control of when intercourse actually happens. He is. I am. And my whole goal will be to string things out. Find out how far we can go without coming. For us, sex is going to be about experimenting and feeling and getting jacked up hot, but not giving in. We’re going to go for broke until one of us loses control and takes the other. And I’m going to let you in on a secret. You are going to do the taking, but I’m going to control when it happens.”

  She was breathing so fast she was afraid she was going to pass out. She struggled to form coherent speech. “So what you’re sayin’ is the way you’re goin’ to give me an orgasm is by refusin’ to let me orgasm?”

  “By building it up then controlling when it happens. For you and for me.”

  “Sounds frustratin’ for both of us and I’ve had enough frustration as it is.”

  “Any frustration you suffer during the process will be worth it, don’t worry about that.”

  “Don’t worry about totally placin’ myself in your hands?” She snorted. “You don’t ask a lot, do you?”

  “I’m asking for what I think you need. And Grace that includes canceling your flight tomorrow.”

  ***

  Max watched Grace squirm in her seat. He knew appearances could be deceiving, but damn if she didn’t look like she was about to come without the aid of his fingers, tongue or dick. God knew he felt close to coming himself.

  It was beyond fun rattling Grace and tempting her inner vixen to come out and play, even as she struggled to retain that blasted control of hers.

  The control she was still clinging to.

  “And stay how long?” she asked.

  “A week should do the trick.”

  She laughed nervously. “I—I can’t stay in Vegas that long.”

  “Why not? Melina said you were taking time off from work.”

  When she remained silent, he said, “Grace, you’ve got a plan for yourself. One that doesn’t involve California or career. You want me to give you something before you start your plan, but you have to give me a fair shot. One night to give you something all your lovers haven’t been able to? One night to make you feel pressured and like a failure if it doesn’t happen? No way. The way to get you where you want is to keep you in the dark, literally and figuratively.”

  “So you plan on keepin’ me locked in a dark bedroom?”

  “I know what I’ve got planned. Other than what I’ve already told you, you don’t and you’re not going to. That’s the point. If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it all the way. And that means total trust by you. And total openness to whatever may come.”

  “I don’t know if I can give you that. Total openness? Come on. I have no idea what kink you’re into.” She was obviously striving to be funny, but he didn’t give her the out.

  “I’m into a lot of things. But the only thing we’re going to do, or I’m going to do to you, is what you’re into. I will push you to stretch your boundaries and inhibitions, but I will never do anything you don’t like or cause you pain. If I do, all you have to do is say no and I’ll stop.”

  “So no is my safe word?”

  He paused and studied her. “Sounds like you know a thing or two about kink. You ever need a safe word before?”

  “No. And I didn’t mean—”

  “I know exactly what you meant and we’ll explore it later, quite thoroughly. What’s your favorite fruit?”

  “What?”

  A safe word is one you wouldn't normally say during sex but one you can easily remember. What’s your favorite fruit?”

  “Mango.”

  “Then that’ll be your safe word.”

  She was tempted to give in. He could see it in her eyes. In the way she bit her lip and looked at him as if he was a big slice of chocolate cake—and she was starving. But she held back. Out of fear. Out of honesty. Given her reluctance to talk dirty and verbalize her desires, he was getting that words meant something to Grace. She didn’t use them lightly. And she really didn’t want to say she’d give him total control when she wasn’t sure she could actually do it.

  “What about your plans?” she asked, obviously trying to buy herself some time. “Back at the house—you said you need to draw more attention to your show by drumming up press. How will you have time for that and me?”

  “I’ll make time.”

  “I wouldn’t feel comfortable. That is, I wouldn’t want…”

  “You wouldn’t want me to go from touching you to touching another woman?”

  “More like the other way around.”

  “That’s not a problem. You said it yourself, what I’m going to be doing is about drumming up press. That means being seen with women not having sex with them.”

  “You kissed Elizabeth,” she reminded him.

  “And I won’t be seeing her for another week. When I do, we might pretend some more, but we’re certainly not going to have sex.”

  “Even so…”

  You’re the only woman I’m interested in right now, Dixie.”

  “What if that changes?”

  “It won’t.”

  “But what if it does?”

  “I’ll deal with it. And that will mean talking to you before I betray your trust.”

  “I don’t want press,” she said. “I’m dealing with stuff you don’t know about, Max. Stuff that means I need total privacy. If you can’t give me that…”

  He immediately wanted to grill her about what ‘stuff’ she was talking about.

  One thing at a time.

  “I promise I’ll keep you out of my business. We’re the only people who will know we’re seeing each other. With my performance schedule and having to work the bars, we won’t have tons of time together, but the time that I do have, I’ll devote to you.”

  She thought about it then seemed to come to a conclusion. “Okay. Under those conditions, I’ll try to be open to whatevah you suggest.”

  He wished he could let it go at that, but he couldn’t. She was waffling, and he needed to be very clear about what he was asking for. And what she’d be agreeing to. “Trying to be open isn’t going to be enough. You place yourself in my hands completely—with the exception of anything that you don’t like after you’ve given me a fair shot at persuading you. You have to commit to letting me do everything I can to pleasure you and trust I’ll know when the time is right for you to go all the way.”

  Her expression turned mutinous. “That doesn’t make sense. I already know what I like. I already know what works for me. I don’t mind giving up control, but only to a p
oint.”

  “And it’s that point I have to push you past, Grace. I don’t have a problem with you being in control, but I’ll sure have a problem when your control cock-blocks me. Better to reach an understanding now.”

  “Cock-blocks you?” she practically choked out.

  He leaned into her. “Yeah, because given your past, it will happen. And my cock wants what you’re control is hell-bent on blocking. Let me have it. Let me have all of you or tell me what you’re afraid of. Because it shouldn’t be this hard.”

  She flushed, looked away, then forced herself to meet his gaze again. “Easy for you to say. Have you evah given your body and your orgasms over to someone else?”

  “I’ve never had the issues you do,” he said quietly, to which she had no response. “So are we going to do this or not? You know I won’t hurt you. You know what I want to give you. I can’t unless you trust me in a way you haven’t trusted any of your partners.”

  He was saying it straight out so she couldn’t misunderstand. She looked scared as shit but tried to rally. “I did trust them. I trust you…”

  “Words are easy, Dixie. You might think you’ve trusted your lovers because you’ve let yourself be topped. Because you’ve let a man blindfold and tie you up. But I’ll bet anything you maintained control even then, no matter how it looked. If you think you trusted them with all of you, you’re wrong. And it’ll be my job to prove it to you.”

  He saw the conflicting emotions in her eyes and felt her pain. The fact she was still clinging to the very idea of control told him she more than liked it. She needed it. Just like she needed to keep some part of herself from others even out of bed.

  She shook her head and he knew he was losing her.

  “I don’t know. Maybe this is a bad idea. Let’s just—”

  “What if I give up control to you?” he asked abruptly.

  She looked startled, then intrigued. “What?”

  He hesitated. Cursed himself. What the hell was he doing? But he’d already said he wouldn’t allow himself to come unless she did. Why not go all the way if it made her feel better about what she was going to be giving up? “You said it was easy for me to tell you to give up control, when I haven’t done the same thing myself.”

  She nodded.

  “So before you place yourself in my hands, how about I place myself in yours?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You say you’re adventurous. Show me. Pleasure me. Control my pleasure and you decide when it’s time for me to come. Who knows, maybe that’s what’ll get you off. If it doesn’t, then we’ll try things my way.”

  Silence stretched between them as she thought about it. He practically saw the gears turning in her head.

  “I need to think about it. Can—can I take the night? To make sure I can clear my schedule, I mean.”

  Disappointment crashed through him, but he nodded. “Sure, Grace.”

  He drove her to her hotel and stepped out of the car with her at the lobby doors. To his amusement, she held out her hand. “No matter what, thank you, Max. I mean it.”

  His mouth tipped up and he shook his head. “I think we can end this night with something better than a handshake, don’t you?”

  “Um…sure,” she said.

  She waited for him to move toward her. When he didn’t, she leaned closer and kissed him.

  She was complex and so was the way she kissed. She started slow and easy, a whisper of soft caresses that drew him in. Then when he started to relax, she amped things up. Nipped. Sucked. Made him groan and bury his hands in her hair and, before he knew what he was doing, start to take over. He tipped her head to the side, giving him better access to her mouth and plunged his tongue inside her. Pushing her back against his car, he lapped her up and pressed against her until a car honked and someone whistled.

  He pulled away.

  Her breath hitched and puffed against his mouth. She wanted more. And so did he.

  It took everything he had, but he took several steps back.

  She’d said she needed time and he was going to give that to her.

  “Take tonight, Grace. If you decide you can accept my terms, let me know. Otherwise, catch that plane tomorrow and know that I wish you well.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Max’s Magic Rule #7:

  Never let a beautiful woman upstage you.

  “Melina told me you were concerned about Grace. You finally track her down and make your move?”

  Max blinked. Considering he was right in the middle of bench-pressing two hundred and fifty pounds, he didn’t answer his brother, who was spotting him, right away. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he saw Grace, but for all he knew, she was heading to the airport to catch her flight right now. To make sure he didn’t do something stupid like try to stop her at the airport and fall to his knees begging for another chance at bedding her, he’d called his brother to meet him at the gym. Like he’d told her, he needed Grace’s total trust if he had any hope of giving her what she wanted. Without that…

  After he settled the free weights in place, he sat up and cocked a brow at Rhys. His brother already saw too damn much. On the off chance Grace didn’t get on that plane today, he needed to throw him off the scent. “Make my move? What are you, in sixth grade?” he asked, injecting an “as if” tone into his voice.

  Rhys rolled his eyes. “Right, like you haven’t wanted a piece of her since you heard her voice? She’s gorgeous. Her accent is sexy as hell. And all those little Southernisms she spouts?” He paused, obviously waiting for Max to fill in the blank.

  “Adorable,” he said. They were one of things he enjoyed about Grace. One second he wanted to shove her against a wall and fuck her hard, the next he wanted to laugh at the crazy things coming out of her mouth. He wondered how many southern idioms she had in her back pocket.

  He choked back a laugh when his brother scowled. “I don’t get you, Max. You hit everything else, why not Grace?”

  Max took the towel lying around his neck and wiped his brow. “She’s Melinda’s friend. I fuck her and that fucks up everything.” He shrugged, again suggesting his disinterest rather than lying flat out.

  Rhys’s shrug mimicked his. “So what’s the plan for tonight?”

  Max frowned. He hadn’t expected Rhys to accept his excuse so easily. He found himself wanting to continue talking about Grace. To give in and do what he always wanted to do but never had—grill Rhys about what he knew about his wife’s friend. He wanted to know what her hobbies were. What kind of movies she liked. What her favorite ice cream was. All he had were the little bits of information Melina had dropped in conversation over the years and what he’d learned about Grace last night, which wasn’t enough. But he contented himself with the knowledge that he probably knew things about her that Rhys didn’t—like the fact she’d dated guys with big dicks. And that she made out like a porn queen.

  Just thinking about those lips she’d laid on him last night had him wanting more and getting hard—not a good thing when he was wearing thin, dry-weave shorts at a gym.

  He forced himself to answer Rhys. “Same as usual as far as I know. Rehearsal. Show. Promoting the show.” Unless Grace had decided to stay in town and grant him the opportunity to add something even more spectacular to his agenda.

  “You heard from Elizabeth?”

  “Only a voicemail, thanking me again and checking in.”

  “She’s a good friend. Now that her husband’s out of the picture, you think anything might happen between you two again?”

  Not at all, Max thought. First, because her husband wasn’t out of the picture. Not as far as her heart was concerned. Second, the only woman Max was interested in right now was Grace.

  “Hey,” Rhys said, nudging him with his elbow. “Look who we’re not talking about.”

  Max followed his brother’s line of sight and barely stopped himself from pumping his fist in the air.

  It looked like Lady Luck was sidling clo
ser and closer.

  Grace stood at the check-in counter, dressed in black spandex shorts and a pale pink sports tank that left a few inches of her lower back exposed. Her head was bent as she signed some papers, her ponytail revealing her neck and upper back. Above and below her tank, Max could see tattoos, which had been well covered by her top last night. The tattoos were curved lines, spaced about an inch apart. The lines, at least what he could see of them, created a shape that resembled half a feather. He had no idea whether all those curved lines met in the middle of her back to form some kind of recognizable image but he wanted to find out. More than that, he wanted to trace the patterns with his tongue, then work downward until he could kiss, suck and bite the curvy flesh of her ass and explore the buttery-soft skin between her legs.

  The tattoos were just another facet of Grace. Bold yet mysterious. Trendy yet subdued. She wasn’t hiding them, but she wasn’t revealing them either. Just like she wasn’t hiding her desire for an orgasm, but—despite the fact she was right here in front of him—he’d still bet she wasn’t willing to bare all she was, give all she was, to get it.

  Not unless he continued to push her.

  In a moment, she straightened, dug around in the large workout bag slung over her shoulder, and produced what Max figured was a credit card. The young woman helping her at the counter took it and swiped it through a register.

  “She’s staying in Vegas for another week,” Rhys said. “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

  “What?” Max said absently, keeping his eyes on Grace as she headed toward the women’s locker room. He could feel the grin trying to take over his face.

  Then he remembered he’d promised to give her total control and it tempered his feelings of victory and anticipation. His unease grew the longer Rhys stared at him. Was his brother going to say anything, or burn him with laser eyes all day?

  Max finally turned toward him. “She’s staying for a week? Why would you think I already knew that?”

  “You called Melina and found out where she was. Next thing I know, Grace has decided to extend her trip. Quit bullshitting me, Max. I need to know you know what you’re getting into. Because somehow I don’t think you do.”