Bedding The Bad Boy (Dalton Brothers Novels)

by Virna DePaul

  “I’m not getting into anything.” Besides Grace’s pants, he thought. But Grace wasn’t some conquest to bed. She was one of his sister-in-law’s best friends. A good woman. He was determined to take care with her, and that meant respecting her desire for privacy. Too bad it would be creepy for him to follow her. It’d be fun to watch her bouncing up and down doing aerobics, or displaying her ass as she did a Downward Dog.

  “Max,” Rhys said.

  “Don’t you have a pregnant wife to get home to?”

  His brother sighed. “I most certainly do. And to tell you the truth, she hasn’t been feeling well.”

  Max’s good humor immediately fled. “Why? What’s going on? Do you need to take more time off?”

  “She and the doctor assure me it’s just normal aches and pains. And believe me, I’m taking plenty of time off to be with her. So much she’s worried she’s interfering with work.”

  “Well don’t let that stop you.”

  “Of course not. But you know the baby blankets Mom’s been working on? She finished them early and wanted me to pick them up before they leave for Hawaii. I’d planned on driving there today. Only…”

  “No problem. I’ll swing by and pick them up for you.”

  Rhys’s expression turned to one of relief. “That would be great. I’ll head home and watch a movie with Melina.”

  “Is that all?”

  When Rhys hesitated, Max understood. “Wait. Are you that concerned? That you’re afraid to—”

  Rhys shook his head. “Sex is supposed to speed things along. Help, not hurt. Only she’s so tired lately. So fragile…”

  “If Melina heard you say that, she’d kick your ass. Besides, even if most of her old clothes don’t fit her right now, I’m betting a certain bikini still does. Break it out and neither one of you will be tired for long.”

  Rhys laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right. She would kick my ass. Thanks, Max.”

  “No problem. Now run along and have sex with your hot pregnant wife. Magician’s orders.”

  The hand Rhys clapped on Max’s shoulder said it all. After Rhys left, Max headed toward the check-in counter.

  The young woman who’d helped Grace a few minutes earlier smiled at him and leaned against the countertop, not so surreptitiously pressing her breasts together with her elbows. “May I help you, Mr. Dalton?”

  He flashed her a mega-watt smile. Even counter girls expected him to flirt with them. All women did.

  But right now, all he wanted was peace of mind. And that meant figuring out why Grace hadn’t yet come out of the women’s locker room.

  “Hiya, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, leaning against the counter and getting close to the girl, who giggled nervously. “I’m looking for my friend, Grace. She was supposed to meet me but I’m not seeing where she went. Maybe she got the time wrong?”

  The girl—Kenya, according to her nametag—pulled back a little but her smile widened. “Yes, she was just here. She told me you might be joining her. That you’re working on something for your show?”

  What the hell? Why would Grace have told her that? “Sure. Something for the show. So where is she waiting for me?”

  He looked around. The main gym, with various elliptical and treadmill machines, and a weight-lifting circuit, sat surrounded on three sides by glass-walled rooms. In the first room, sweaty women jumped and rotated to music, and in the second room, a combination of men and women were in the middle of a yoga practice. The third room was empty.

  Kenya giggled again, the sound grating on his nerves. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Grace giggle, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t annoy him. Everything about her fascinated him. That wasn’t bound to last, but right now…

  “She’s in one of the private dance studios. Probably took the back door through the women’s locker room. You can get there through that hallway.” She tipped her head behind her. “It has everything you’ll need,” she said with another giggle.

  “What do mean?”

  “It’s set up for pole-dancing.”

  His combined shock and excitement nearly staggered him.

  Grace was in a studio meant for pole dancing. Just the thought sent blood pounding everywhere but his brain, where he needed it the most. Instead, he stood there in total guy mode, with a major hard-on and his knuckles practically dragging on the ground. But then he jerked into action and headed down the hall.

  He did so with a huge smile, feeling like he was following the yellow brick road.

  ***

  Bluesy pop music was already playing on Grace’s smart phone, the lyrics echoing her hopes to soon have Max Dalton begging her for mercy.

  She’d had no clue he’d be at the gym. The moment she’d seen him and Rhys, she’d wanted to turn and run. Her own cowardice had appalled her. It didn’t matter that she’d gotten up the nerve to cancel her flight. She’d felt shaky and unsure of herself, and by reserving the gym’s pole dancing studio, she’d hoped to exhaust her body and clear her mind, at least for an hour.

  A minute after seeing Max, so damn sexy in his workout clothes, his biceps bulging as he lifted weights, her nerves completely disappeared. An idea formed instead. Why not let him watch her on the pole? Surely that would help her regain the upper-hand in the small game they were playing. But she wasn’t about to invite Max directly, not with Rhys there. She figured if he was interested enough to track her down, however…

  She peeked outside the studio window, which was tinted so she could see out but no one could see in. Her pulse accelerated when she saw Max heading up the hallway toward her.

  She scrambled to the metal pole at the front of the room. As she did, she caught sight of her image in the mirrored wall. She looked decent in her workout clothes but not terribly seductive. Her expression, however? Even she could see the excitement. She looked youthful and daring and free. How had Max managed to significantly diminish her stress and anxiety over Logan Cooper and her baby plan in one night?

  She’d taken enough pole-dancing classes back home to know exactly what she was doing. In a matter of seconds, she’d climbed up the pole, hooked her calves around it, then lowered herself until her chest was pressed against the pole and she was hanging upside down in a basic inversion. Then she braced her elbows and gripped the pole with her right hand about two feet higher than the left. Her instructors called it a split grip.

  When she heard his footsteps just outside the door, she kept her right calf hooked around the pole but released her left leg and pressed it behind her, keeping her knee bent so the toes of her left foot pointed toward the floor. The position stretched her thigh muscles and her pant fabric pressed tight against her body, stimulating her clit ring. It felt good. It felt twice as good because she knew Max was coming.

  She heard the door open. “Grace? Jesus.”

  A quick glance confirmed he looked shocked… and aroused. With a loud click, he shut the door behind him and locked it.

  When Max stepped toward her, she said somewhat breathlessly, “Sit. And just watch, Max. No talkin’. No hands.”

  He saw the chair in the corner. And sat.

  Then watched as she proceeded to do the rest of the routine she’d learned. It involved contorting her body in ways that sparked her imagination. She’d bet it did his, too. That was the whole point.

  She squatted and spun, undulated, frisked the pole, and even managed to pull off a crescent—an advanced move that ended with her sliding down the pole with her body contorted into the shape of a crescent moon.

  By the time she was done and standing with both feet on the ground, his expression was tight. Lids heavy. His fists clenched. Hot flags of color rode his cheeks. He looked thoroughly aroused. And she felt like she was going to go off like a firecracker.

  He obviously hadn’t believed it himself, but maybe he’d been right the night before, when he’d said controlling his arousal might be the thing that got her off. She’d hurt when she’d lain in her bed last
night. Ached for him. And even after she’d made herself come, she’d still ached.

  She ached now. Her body fairly throbbed and she could almost smell the arousal—hers and Max’s—in the air.

  More than ever she needed to convince him she was no shrinking violet when it came to sex. That he could trust her to give both of them something good even if she didn’t give him everything.

  He sat rigidly, sucking in breaths as if he’d just run a marathon, waiting to see what she’d do next. Her plan had been to blow his mind, then blow him a kiss and walk out, leaving him to suffer. Instead, instinct moved her toward him.

  The way he sat, thighs slightly spayed, eyes glued to her, was so hot, so tempting, she couldn’t end things here. Only she had to keep the upper-hand.

  “Do you want more?” she asked, her voice dark and raspy.

  Instead of speaking, he inclined his head slightly, a facsimile of a nod.

  “Do you go to strip clubs?”

  He hesitated only slightly. “I have.”

  “Have you evah had a lap dance?”

  “Yes.”

  She liked his honesty, as well as the fact he didn’t look ashamed or embarrassed. “I assume you looked but didn’t touch?”

  “That’s right. But…”

  “But what?”

  “But if you dance in my lap, Grace, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep myself from touching you.”

  His honesty stole her breath. It made heat spread through her. Made her feel powerful and sexy and in control. See? She liked this. She didn’t need to give up control in order to get turned on. In fact, the more control she wielded, the hotter she got. She’d prove it to him.

  “But you will have to keep yourself from touchin’ me. I’m in control here. That’s what you promised me and that’s what I want.”

  For a minute, he looked ready to argue with her, then the tension seemed to seep out of him. He slouched lower in his chair and made a production of putting his hands behind the back of his head. The position emphasized his muscled shoulders, biceps, and chest, making her think of a predator. “Go ahead and have your fun, Dixie.”

  Dixie. She loved that something as simple as her southern roots had created an intimate bond between them, even if it was only a nickname.

  Max continued speaking. “Just remember you asked for it when you’re the one being controlled.”

  She refused to acknowledge how her core clenched with need. That’s never going to happen, she told herself. It doesn’t have to. Not if I do this right. She stole a quick glance at the one-way window and the locked door. Could she actually give Max a lap dance, then make him come right here and now?

  “Don’t worry about my memory, Shugah. Worry about yours. Because right now I’m goin’ to make you forget evahthing but me.”

  She advanced to within three feet of him. With her back arched, feet slightly more than hip-width apart and her toes turned out, she began a slow grinding circle. Max’s gaze stayed glued to her hips as she bent her knees then straightened. She repeated the movement before turning her back to him. With straight legs, she bent forward slightly, looked over her shoulder at him then slapped first one ass cheek then the other. “Have you evah spanked your lovers, Max?”

  He visibly swallowed. “I’ve told you before, Grace. I’ve done whatever my lovers needed. Do you enjoy being spanked?”

  “As I think I’m demonstratin’, I prefer to be in charge.”

  He smiled thinly. “Keep telling yourself that, baby.”

  She frowned. She wasn’t getting her message across. Determinedly, she danced into the triangle made by Max’s open legs, back still to him, feet together. Bending her knees but keeping her back straight, she placed her hands on Max’s knees. His body immediately tensed at her touch. Slowly, she lowered her bottom toward his lap until she just made contact. Then, keeping her hands on his knees for support, she grinded down, moving her hips in a circular motion.

  “Doesn’t that feel nice as pie, Max? When I’m done playin’ with you,” she said, “I’m goin’ back to my hotel and I’m goin’ to take care of myself in a way that’s guaranteed to get me off. Next time, if you want to be the one to give me an orgasm, trust that I know what I need. Stop makin’ things so hard on yourself. Whether we label it control or not, let me direct you so you can get me there. And I promise I’ll give you what you need, too.”

  When he didn’t respond, she turned and looked at him over her shoulder.

  He was breathing hard again. He remained still, but he looked ready to explode. He smiled evilly. “Oh, I’m going to give you what you need, Grace. I guarantee it. And when I have, you’re going to dance for me again. Only you’re going to do it nekkid. You’re going to do it while I have my hands and mouth on you. And you’re going to know exactly who’s in control.”

  Her movements faltered before she got going again. “You’re spoiled. Too used to gettin’ your own way. But I can see how much this is workin’ for you, Max.”

  “It’s definitely working for me,” he said. “Everything you do works for me. Kiss me.”

  She turned back again, having to block his look of need since it reflected everything she was feeling herself. “Uh-uh. This is my thing, remember? I get to give instructions.”

  “Then tell me what you want.”

  “I’ll show you instead.”

  Turning to face him, she moved closer, gently leaned forward, and placed her hands on either side of his chair. Slowly, she pressed her breasts toward his face, then brushed from side to side, stroking the end of his nose with her nipples. The gentle pressure against her piercings made her nipples instantly harden into tight points. As if connected by an invisible cord, sharp tingles traveled from her nipples to the piercing at her clit. Her body involuntarily jerked, and she rubbed her nipples against him even harder.

  He groaned and she felt a rush of victory sweep through her. Before she knew it, however, he’d opened his mouth and covered one nipple through her top. The heat and suction was so sudden and so amazing that she cried out.

  Their gazes locked, giving her a perfect view of his cheeks hollowing as he sucked her. She should have moved back and scolded him, but she hesitated. What he was doing felt good. So, so good. But she could see by the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes that he thought he’d won, stealing control away from her.

  She dropped her hand to his groin and cupped him through his shorts. His eyes widened even as his mouth loosened. She tried to move away, but his hands came up and gripped her hips.

  She stroked him harder. Tighter. “I’m in charge,” she said breathlessly. “Let go or you ’n me are gonna mix.”

  He laughed. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

  “Both. Let go, Max.”

  “Only if you promise you won’t,” he said.

  She smiled at the naked need in his voice and, without realizing what she was doing, agreed. “I promise.”

  When he released her she kept her word, continuing to explore his length and rigidity.

  “Show me your piercings.”

  “Later,” she said, rubbing against his face again while gripping him tightly.

  He tipped his head back, and she couldn’t resist licking and nibbling at his throat. Getting more frantic, he arched his hips into her touch but she could tell he wasn’t anywhere close to coming.

  Time to amp things up even more.

  She dropped to her knees.

  His head tilted down, eyes narrowed, and he watched as she teasingly traced his waistband with her fingertips.

  “Do you want to come?”

  “I want you,” he said.

  Those three words dripped with such yearning that she almost caved. Almost told him to take whatever he needed. She wouldn’t care if she came or not. It would feel so good to hold him. To feel him slide inside her.

  “I want to see your tattoo and your piercings. I want to see where else you’re pierced. I want to feel your nipple piercings against my tongue even as I
fuck you. But this isn’t about what I want. I’m yours to control, remember? For my pleasure. For yours. You want to suck my dick? Suck it. But only because it will make you hot.”

  She was already hotter than blue blazes yet she knew sucking him off would indeed make her hotter. She wanted to feel him against her core even more. She ached so badly. And he’d said he’d give her anything she wanted. No, he’d implied she could take it.

  Without conscious thought, she straddled him, resting her hands on his shoulders. Swiftly, she began grinding down on him, their thin clothes barely any protection against the delicious friction that sent ripples of electric sensation zipping through her veins. She was sure he could feel how wet she was, and how much wetter she became with each second that passed. She could barely resist tearing their clothes off and shoving him inside her. But that would require breaking contact with him, and right now… right now…

  Their breaths soughed together, loud and erratic. His deep groans mingled with her high cries of excitement. He gave her the illusion of control, not touching her, but the piercing intensity of his gaze kept her trapped as surely as the feel of his body did.

  She closed her eyes, focusing on the rise of pleasure inside her. She could feel it building and building and building. But at some point, it faltered and she almost cried out in despair.

  “You gonna come, baby?” he asked, causing her eyes to pop open. “You going to get what you need like this? Cause this is all for you.”

  His heated words of encouragement made her body tighten and desire surged through her again. Her movements grew almost frantic as she sought release.

  But it remained outside her grasp.

  It wasn’t going to happen. No matter how badly she wanted it, no matter how determined she’d been to make him hot and take control of her own sexuality, she was going to fail again.

  With a small whimper, she stopped moving and collapsed into him, burying her face in his neck. Her fingers clung tightly to his T-shirt as frustration thrummed through her. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around her, one hand cupping the back of her neck while the other rubbed soothing circles on her back.