by Sybil Bartel
I gently wrapped my hand over her throat and tipped her head up.
Half apprehension, half desire, her eyes met mine.
I stroked her jaw with my thumb. “I asked you a question.”
She swallowed, the movement flexing my hand. “I needed to concentrate on my career.”
Not a yes, not a no. “You can’t act and fuck?”
She didn’t hesitate. “No.”
Interesting. “This is acting right now.” Everything leading up until I had my dick in her was pretense.
“It’s not the same.” She brought her arms up to cross over her tits.
My expression dark, my gaze cut to her hands.
She dropped her arms.
I thought about arching her back and shoving my cock into her mouth. “You on the pill?”
Her cheeks flushed, and she squirmed. “No.”
Fucking shame. I dropped my hold on her, tossed the towel on the vanity, and stepped back. “Stand up.”
Slow, but graceful as hell, she stood.
When she didn’t turn around to face me, but silently waited for instructions, my dick pulsed. Calculating and measured, I circled her. She was stunning. Too thin, but still stunning.
Watching my gaze as I took in every inch of her, standing perfectly still, she whispered, “What are you doing?”
Getting off on the quiet and unsure tone of her voice. “Tell me something.” I stepped behind her.
“What?”
Without touching her body, I reached around and drew my finger over her bare cunt. “Who’s this shaved pussy for?”
She shivered. “No one.”
I grasped the back of her neck and leaned in. “Then why is it bare?”
“I-I’m not lying.”
“Didn’t say you were.” Not parting her cunt, my finger circled and came away wet. “I asked why you bothered shaving if you’re not getting fucked.”
Women were a means to an end for me. I liked to smell them and fuck them and feel their soft bodies under me as I pounded into them. I liked a cunt constricting around my dick. But I didn’t think about women beyond that. I’d joined the Marines at eighteen, and twelve years later went into personal security. I didn’t have time for women beyond a night. And I sure as shit wasn’t gonna end like my old man, still torn-up twenty-five years after the death of a woman who’d loved alcohol more than him.
So the fact that I was thinking about the wet pussy in front of me and the mouthy blonde it was attached to, and wondering who the fuck she’d let touch her wasn’t only pissing me off, it was fucking problematic.
Circling over her cunt again, I didn’t let it go. “Why’s this cunt bare?”
Her back arched at my touch. “You don’t like it?”
I didn’t fucking like it that she was shaved before she’d met me, or that she’d fucked other men, or that her pussy being bare wasn’t exclusively for my benefit. All of it was fucking with my head space, and I needed to remember who I was.
Pressing harder, I ran my finger up her soaked slit. “You waiting to be fucked?”
“Oh my God.” She tried to lean back into me.
I held her neck firm, not letting her body touch mine. “Answer the question.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“By who?”
“You.” She ground her hips. “By you.”
Right fucking answer. “Needy little bitch,” I muttered appreciatively. “Hands on the counter.”
Without hesitation, she leaned forward to brace on the vanity, giving me her ass.
Fuck, she was gorgeous. “Spread your legs.”
She complied instantly, but then she opened her mouth. “You’re still dressed.”
“You want me naked?” If my dick was out, it’d be buried so deep in her, she wouldn’t know her own name. “Earn it.”
Gooseflesh broke out on her arms. “How?”
Not fucking touching her, I leaned over her back and spoke against her ear. “Cold?”
A tremor crawled up her spine. “A little.”
Abruptly standing to my full height, I grabbed her waist and lifted.
Still holding on to the counter, she let out a shocked squeal. “What are you doing?”
“Legs up.” I set her on the bathroom counter. “On your hands and knees. Head down.”
“Oh my God.” On all fours, she looked at me. “What are you doing?”
I took a handful of her wet blonde hair and turned her head. “Head down. Face the mirror.”
Her arms bent, her ass came up and she looked at me through the mirror. “Why?”
“Because you’re going to watch yourself come.” I shoved two fingers into her wet cunt.
“Holy shit.” Her curse echoed through the bathroom as her elbows straightened and her chest came off the vanity.
“I said head down.” Holding her hair tight enough to make it count, I pulled her back down as I twisted my fingers deep inside her tight pussy.
Half moan, half gasp, she jerked. “Oh my—”
Pressing my thumb into her clit, I stroked her deep until I found the right spot.
“Ohhh fuck.” She grasped the faucet and the edge of the counter and slammed her hips against my palm as her cunt started to convulse.
I yanked her hair and stilled my fingers right against her G-spot.
“Ahh!”
I looked at her in the mirror. “Did I say you could come?”
Her chest heaving, her pussy pulsing, her face contorted from ecstasy to pissed off in half a second flat. “You bastard,” she spat.
I stared at her sexy-as-hell challenging beauty and shit clouded my head.
For two seconds, I thought about what it would take to not be exactly what she was accusing me of. Then just as quick, I shoved the useless thought down.
Drawing slowly out of her tight cunt, I knew who I was.
I let go of my dominant grip on her hair, lowered my voice to a nonthreatening cadence, and I gave it to her straight. “I’m worse than a bastard. I’ll take every damn thing you have to give, then I’ll take more. I’ll fuck you until your voice is hoarse from screaming my name, and I’ll fuck you until you’re begging me to stop. Then I’ll fuck you until you can’t stand on your own.” I paused for effect. “When the sun comes up, your sweet cunt will be dead to me.”
Shock colored her expression.
“Understand?”
Her voice faltered. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
“If it doesn’t, you’re one in a million.” Not that I’d fucked a million women, but I only ever got two responses from women when I told them what I was about. Fear or misplaced hope that I was lying.
I was never lying.
But the blonde in front of me studied my face like she thought I was.
Then she disappointed the fuck out of me.
Misplaced hope put confidence back in her voice. “You’re lying.”
“To what end?” Did I look like the commitment type?
“You’re trying to scare me away.” She said it like she had all the answers.
I told myself I hadn’t been waiting for her to be that one in a million, that one chick who gave me a different response. Any other response. Something that told me she was different.
But she didn’t.
So I told myself I was just gonna fuck her like I’d fuck any other chick—with no expectations. Two words I lived and breathed by, an utter religion I’d made out of no attachments—no expectations. Except for the first time in my life, those two words came up short. So fucking short that I was staring at a stunning blonde who I’d wanted to be different.
Goddamn it.
My jaw ticked, and I bit out a warning, “No expectations.”
For five whole heartbeats, she stared at me.
Then she fucking threw me.
“How’s this for no expectations? How about you don’t expect shit out of me? How about you don’t fuck me until I beg for you to stop. How about you don’t decide before you
even have one orgasm that I’m not worthy of your presence past sunrise, and how about you fuck right off with all of that bullshit?”
Surprise kicked me in the chest and went straight to my dick. My mind bent, and suddenly I was staring down two opposite fucking spheres of reality. On one side she was that millionth chick, on the other, she was nothing but a spoiled mouthpiece.
My head told me to test her, my dick told me to fuck her, and my emotions turned traitor.
Then I said the last fucking thing I should’ve. “You first.”
A switch flipped. I saw it plain as day.
Her shoulders sagged, her chest deflated, and she fucking gave up.
No conviction, her tone one step away from defeat, she gave me two words that may as well have been get and lost. “Fuck you.”
Perverse, I smiled. “Get up.” I grabbed her by the waist.
Her wary expression turned to alarm. “What are you doing?”
“Not fucking you.” I started to lift her off the vanity.
Both of her hands flew to the faucet for leverage. “Stop.”
I smirked. “I already did, sweetheart.”
A CONDESCENDING HALF SMILE ON his full lips, he let go of me and strode toward the door.
“Hey!” I barked, sitting up. My naked ass on the cold vanity, I quickly spread my legs wide, reaching to put one foot in each of the two sinks because I couldn’t think what else to do.
I wasn’t sure what the hell just happened, but I knew he’d shut down. Or maybe he was always shut down, and I was just fooling myself at the glimpses of real I thought I’d seen in him and he was walking out that door before we’d even started this conversation.
I didn’t know which it was, but I was desperate enough to take one more shot at finding out. Except all I had was spreading my legs, because that’s all he seemed to respond to. I should’ve taken a different path, but I was so in over my head, why stop now?
Fuck it. “You forgot something.”
I watched in the mirror as he paused and looked over his wide shoulder. His gun at his back waistband, his arms pushing the limits of the short sleeves of his polo shirt, his intense green-brown eyes immediately cut to my core.
But nothing in his distant expression changed.
My confidence shot, my voice wavered. “You forgot something,” I repeated, quieter than before.
Slow, like he had all the time in the world, his gaze traveled from between my legs up my stomach, over my breasts and finally landed on my eyes.
My nipples hardened to the point of pain, and my empty pussy pulsed with need. “I can make myself come.” I reached between my legs.
His body predator still, he watched me. For one long moment, he kept his eyes on mine while I slowly ran a finger through my desire.
Then, without a word, he walked out.
“Damn it.” I scrambled off the vanity.
My indignation stronger than my dignity, I went after him.
“What the hell is your problem?” I yelled, following him down the hall.
His stride quick and sure, and shockingly graceful, he didn’t even pause as he went to the kitchen. Grabbing a water out of the fridge, he uncapped it and chugged half.
“I asked you a question.” My hands on my hips, crowding him in, I sounded exactly as I looked. Pathetic.
Taking another gulp of his water, looking completely unperturbed, he pushed past me. “Get dressed.”
Goddamn it. “I want to have sex!”
With shocking speed and agility, he spun and got in my face. His voice threateningly low, he let his impenetrable mask slip and his nostrils flared. “I don’t have sex. I fuck. Hard and long and unforgiving. You don’t want to fuck me. You want to win.” His jaw ticked, and he leaned closer. “Newsflash, you’re not gonna.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “I’m not playing a game.” Was I?
“Bullshit.” He stood to his full height and drained the last of his water. “You want to top.”
“What?”
He looked at me like he was superior in every way. “When’s the last time you had control over anything?”
Oh my God. “You’re the one trying to control me!”
“You said you wanted to fuck. I told you how it was gonna go down. You didn’t like it. Game over.”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Was he for real? “Who’s playing a game now?”
He laughed. Deep and rumbling, it was barely a chuckle, but it made my whole body shiver with a desire I didn’t fully understand.
The hint of a half smile still on his face, he squashed the plastic bottle in his hand like an accordion. “Put some clothes on, woman.”
“No.”
In a move that I was sure was completely out of character for him, he shrugged. Then he tossed his decimated bottle in the trash, walked to the security panel in the front hall, and messed with it. A few swipes of the finger that’d been deep inside my pussy, and he’d scrolled through real-time images of the property. When he was finished, he pulled his phone out, sent a text and slipped it back in his pocket.
Staring at him, I crossed my arms. “What are you doing?”
“My job.”
Petulant as hell, I couldn’t help it, my mouth went for a walk. “Was it your job to fuck with me?”
Ignoring me, he moved to the first slider that led out to the lanai. Checking the lock, he moved to the next.
After two more sliders and three windows, I lost patience with his silence. “Are you trying to keep someone from getting in, or are you trying to keep me locked up?”
“Whichever I have to.” He moved to the next window.
Naked, pissed off, vulnerable, I stood there watching. “Because that’s your job?” I said the last word sarcastically as hell, but as the words left my mouth, an idea formed.
He didn’t answer. He moved to the dining room and my idea grew into epic desperation. I wondered what had happened to my dignity, or if I’d ever really had any, because in the next instant, I was moving.
Aiming for the slider closest to the pool, I ran.
Literally ran.
Because I knew how quick he was.
I’d gotten the door unlocked and shoved open when I heard his curse.
It didn’t matter.
Two seconds later, I dove into the sparkling aqua water that was warmer than inside the air-conditioned house but still crisp and cool. Completely submerged, my limbs reached and flexed and pulled with memory reflex, and I swam.
Underwater, free, I swam.
Stroke after stroke, my eyes open, I swam to the opposite end of the pool, and for one blissful moment, my mind cleared.
I wasn’t an actress, or a desperate woman trying to get a man out of my league to have sex with me. I wasn’t Dreena MacKenzie, and I wasn’t a woman quitting a career people would literally kill for.
I was just swimming.
My lungs burning, I forced two more strokes and reached for the edge of the pool. My hand touched warm concrete, my eyes closed, and I broke the surface.
Air filled my lungs and my bliss collapsed.
Two large hands grabbed me under my arms and lifted.
Then I was literally tossed in the air as a tank of a man threw me up and over his shoulder. Water sluiced off my body and drenched his clothes. My hair in my face, I let out a half scream, half grunt as my stomach hit his rock of a shoulder.
His huge palm landed on my ass, and the sharp slap rang in my ears as the sting hit my backside.
“What the fuck?” I kicked out. “You asshole! You spanked me?”
His long strides eating up the distance between the far end of the pool and the house prison, he didn’t even pause. “Scream again,” he warned. “See what happens.”
Enraged, I pounded both my fists on his back. “PUT ME DOWN.”
The slap echoed across the pool a split second before I felt it.
And I felt it.
Oh my fucking God, all the way from my scalp to my toes. Every
second of his fingers inside me rushed back in a wave of heady desire so thick, I wanted to both choke on it and hurt him. “How dare you fucking spank me!”
“Scream again,” he demanded.
“Go fucking fuck yourself, you—”
He slapped me again.
My body jerked. “You goddamn asshole.”
Striding into the house, he paused only to slam the slider shut.
“Put me down!”
Walking in to the master bedroom, he put me down all right. He threw me on the bed. I bounced once, and he was on me.
His hands around my wrists, he yanked my arms over my head as his huge, heavy body landed between my legs. “You do not walk out of this house naked.” His body pressing into me, he increased the pressure on my wrists. “You don’t go anywhere naked. You hear me?”
“Why?” I sneered. “You jealous?”
Pure alpha, ruthless intent spread across his features. “I don’t get jealous, because I don’t give a goddamn fuck what you do on your own time. But when you’re on my watch, you don’t parade your fucked-up shit naked. You don’t drag me down, making me a spectacle by proxy. I will not be on your next viral video.”
Righteous indignation mixed with suffocating humiliation. My ass stung, my pussy pulsed and tears welled. Hating him, hating everything and everyone, I bucked against his hold and lashed out. “You think you’re not fucked-up?” I laughed a sick laugh. “Who’s holding who down? Who spanked who, asshole? Nice transference,” I said as sarcastically as possible.
His chest heaving, his nostrils flaring, he stared at me.
One heartbeat.
Two.
His voice, deep and commanding, dropped to a lethal warning. “Ask.”
Chill bumps raced across my skin. “Ask what?”
“You wanna be fucked? Ask.” His hips surged forward.
His giant cock pressed between my legs, and my pussy swelled with desire as his jeans grated against my aching clit. I couldn’t stop it. The moan was low and deep and vibrated through my chest.
Oh God.
Against every reasonable thought in my head, against every ounce of sanity I still might have had left, my legs spread, my hips thrust, and three words I never, never should have said rushed out. “Fuck me, please.”
“FUCK ME, PLEASE,” SHE BEGGED.