She’s breathing heavy, her pulse rapid-fire against my palm, and a soft purr hums in her throat. “Getting your attention.”
I shove up into her space, pinning her to the wall with my terry-cloth-clad hips. “You got it. Now tell me what you want.”
She bites her lip and wiggles against me, drawing attention to my quickly hardening dick sandwiched between us. “I think you know.” Her gaze darts down and she smirks. “Feels like you want the same thing.”
“You want to fuck? Is that all this is?” I can feel her hot breath against my lips, her heaving breasts incased in starched cotton against my chest.
“Does there have to be more?” She smiles seeming to enjoy my reaction to her baiting.
“You want to use me to piss off your dad.”
She pushes my towel to the floor and grips my hard-on in a tight fist. “That’s not all I want to use you for.”
I hiss and roll my hips into her hand. “You want to play with me, kitten?”
“You want to play with me too. You won’t admit it, but your body screams it. I’m right, aren’t I, Theodore?”
Hearing that name from her lips is the ultimate pleasure-pain. I flex my fingers around her throat and a sigh falls from her parted lips. I rest my forehead against hers, breathing hard, pushing the filthy, demented sexual fantasies of the two of us together far from my head and yet they continue to flood my mind. “Yes.”
I don’t know who moved first, only that suddenly our mouths fuse together and her tongue slips eagerly against mine. She tastes of sin and peppermint, her lips promising redemption only to drag me further into damnation. A temptress, she licks into my mouth coaxing me to deepen the kiss while she rubs her soft body against me. The idea that I could’ve resisted her advances was nothing more than an illusion, a lie I told myself. I was helpless against her advances that first night in the bar, and I’m helpless against her now.
My breath catches when she bites hard on my lower lip. I rear back, grinning as the flavor of my own blood touches the tip of my tongue. “You’re dangerous.”
“You have no idea.”
“Coach is gonna have me shot.” I pant as she continues to stroke me.
“I’ll handle him.” She pushes up on her toes and kisses me gently. “Don’t you trust me?” Her tone is teasing.
“Not even a little.” This woman is unpredictable, and yet, her cunning has me aroused and captivated in the worst way.
“I should probably go.” She releases her hold on me and a frustrated growl bubbles up from my chest. She slips out from between me and the wall, moving to the door as I brace my weight and catch my breath. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Tonight? Where—” The door closes behind her and I’m left alone, bare-ass naked with a nasty case of blue balls and my towel at my feet. After a series of deep breaths, I straighten up, wrap up as best I can, and storm out of the room.
Carey, Kaipo, and Loren are there waiting for me, eyes wide and obviously trying to avoid my not-so-quickly deflating hard-on.
“Dude.” Kaipo says. “You and Coach’s daughter?”
I’m already committed, my dick insisting to have it no other way. “Yeah, I guess so.”
He ignores my boner but keeps his distance to give me an awkward high-five. “You got brass balls. Coach’ll make you pay for slipping it to his little princess.”
Carey shakes his head in disapproval. “I can’t believe you’re going for it.”
“Why not?” Loren blurts. “She’s fucking hot. I’d take Coach’s bullshit any day to get a chance with pussy that pretty.”
“Watch your fuckin’ mouth.” I’m about to lunge when Carey’s shocked gasp derails me.
“Oh no,” Carey mutters with horror in his voice. “Don’t tell me…” He squints. “You’re actually falling for her.”
“No. It’s just sex.” And no matter what I’m feeling inside, it’ll always only be just sex, because that’s all I’m capable of.
SIX
Emery
FINDING OUT WHERE Theodore lives was easy. I asked a few cheerleaders in my psychology class and after they gave me a long hard look and dismissed me as a sexual threat, they spilled the address.
My Uber pulls up to the gigantic house just before nine o’clock at night. I was expecting an overgrown yard littered with beer bottles and rusty workout equipment, not something out of a Martha Stewart magazine.
I knock on the front door and smooth my pleated, tartan skirt that hits just above the knee. I check to make sure the silk scarf tied and bowed under my oxford collar is centered.
“Coming!” The door swings open to reveal a super-muscled guy with dark skin and a playful smile. “Emery, right?”
With my shoulders stiff and my spine straight, I nod. “Yes. Is Theodore available?”
“Theod—girl,” he chuckles. “You’re not gonna get anywhere with that man by calling him Theodore.”
I don’t smile outwardly, but he must see the grin in my eyes.
“Okay, Emery, I see you.” He laughs and opens the door wide with a smile. “Come on in, then.”
I step inside the entryway; it’s so tall and wide my footsteps echo.
“Yo, Spider! You have company!” He waits with me at the foot of the staircase.
“Why do you call him Spider?”
“His last name’s Web, and he throws a football like he’s got eight arms.”
“Spiders have eight legs. Not arms.”
“Who’s to say they’re not arms?”
I shrug. “Science.”
“No one listens to that.” A mischievous grin tilts his lips. “Do you know sign language?”
“I know a little, yes.”
“You know…” He lifts a brow. “My dick can speak sign language.”
I crack a smile. “Really?”
“Oh yeah. Feel like having a conversation?” He braces his hands on hips and rolls them forward and backwards. “Right now, he’s telling you he likes your headband.”
“Your dick has great taste.”
He wiggles his hips again. “My dick says thank you—”
“Put it away.” The menacing growl comes from the top of the steps where Theodore stands gloriously topless scowling down at us.
“All right, all right,” Kaipo winks at me. “I’ll see you around, Coach’s daughter.”
“See ya.” I turn to look up at Theodore, who hasn’t moved to come down to meet me, so I guess that means I’m making the trip up. I stop two steps before the landing.
“How did you know where I live?”
“I’m not giving away my secrets.”
His glare tightens.
“May I?” I motion to the two steps still between us.
He stiffly nods—one quick jerk of his chin.
I tentatively wrap my fingers around his tattooed hand. Two breaths later and his fingers curl around mine. “See, that’s not so hard is it?”
He doesn’t answer in words, but his expression softens in resignation. He shows me to his bedroom, closing the door behind me. Once again I’m surprised by how clean it is.
“Have a seat.” He motions to one of the two chairs in his room.
I ignore the chairs and sit at the edge of his bed. He watches with a voyeuristic heat in his gaze as I untie the bow at my neck. I pop the top button of my blouse, then the next and one more until the cleavage and white lace of my bra show. I kick off my flats, put my heel to the bed and scoot back to the middle, knees bent allowing my skirt to slip open and bunch at my hips.
He bites his lip and an animalistic growl rumbles up his throat. “You have something against underwear?”
“Unnecessary obstacle.” I unbutton the rest of my shirt, peeling the two sides apart. “You said you wanted to play with me.” I take the black silk that was around my neck and use it as a blindfold, tying it tightly over my eyes. “Let me be your playground.” I lie down on the bed, completely exposed and vulnerable. My heart races with excitement because
a man like Theodore won’t be able to hold back his baser instincts when I offer myself as prey to his predator.
His desk chair creeks and his bare feet pad against the wood floor, growing louder as he draws closer. I tremble with anticipation, the memories of our first night together still fresh in my mind, my body desperate to relive it.
Fingers bite into the skin at my knees as he grips hard and presses them into the mattress. Exposing me to the cold air in the room, I gasp when his hot, wet tongue licks up my inner thigh. “You taste like forgiveness,” he mumbles against my skin.
“What does—”
“Quiet, kitten.”
My pulse pounds at his display of dominance. I had a taste of it our first night together, but I sensed he held back. He bought the image—pearl earrings, sweater sets, and slacks. He thought I was delicate, that he had to go easy on me, treat me as if I’m breakable.
No one in my life has ever gone easy on me, and he can’t break what’s already broken.
SEVEN
Spider
I WASN’T SOBER the first time I hooked up with Emery. If I had been, I would’ve paid closer attention to the way my touch affected her. Learned all the ways to make her moan, catch her breath, bite her lip and squirm restlessly under my mouth.
Like now, as I run my teeth along her inner thigh to the warm and welcoming apex of her thighs, she sucks in a stuttered breath.
Even wasted, I remember loving her taste and sober she tastes even better.
Savory, rich, and so fucking pure—she’s out of my league and yet here I am, eager to contaminate her with sin and debauchery.
I lick into her body, poisoning her with ugly thoughts of ruining her for every man who comes after me. With a bruising grip on her thighs, I pin her knees to the bed and drown myself in her taste and her needy sounds. She buries her hands in my hair, gripping the strands and pulling until it hurts.
I sit up and hold both her wrists with one hand. “Don’t touch me.”
“You let me touch you before.”
I bring her hands to my sweatpants and press them to my hard-on. “Only here.”
A wicked smile tilts her lips. “Works for me.”
I reach into my bedside table and hand her a condom. Still blindfolded she manages to open it and roll it on like she’s done it a million times before. I wonder what kind of rich, boarding-school assholes she’s let inside her body. I’ll kill every fucking one of them.
I fall over her, bracing my weight on my elbows while kissing the white lace over her full breasts. Her nipples tighten between my lips, perfect pink beneath virginal white. She arches her back, lifts her hips, her body begging me to put out the fire I’d barely begun to stoke.
The urge to fuck with her, bring her close only to leave her wanting, rides me hard. She sought me out, hunted me, and refused to listen when I told her to back off until I couldn’t resist her. She made me weak. Denial of pleasure would be the ultimate payback. Pain would be even better.
My nostrils flare as I fight against my baser instincts. Her hands remain at her sides gripping the fabric of my comforter. I calm at the sign of her obedience. She wants to please me.
I run a finger along her jaw and whisper, “It hurts you to be good, doesn’t it.”
“Yes,” she breathes.
“We have that in common.” I grit my teeth together and slowly sink inside her. My muscles shake with the effort it takes to keep from slamming my hips forward.
Seated inside her, we’re both breathing heavy. Her lips part to accommodate her breath as I move inside her. She licks her lips, her mouth calling to be filled. I run my lip along hers in a brutal tease.
“Kiss me,” she whispers.
“No.” I use my tongue, my lip ring, and my teeth until she’s growling in frustration and trying to chase down my mouth. “How do you like it when you’re not heard, kitten? When your desires are left unmet?”
Her jaw gets hard, her pretty mouth closes in a tight, defiant line.
I dig my elbows into the bed and pick up my pace determined to wipe that look off her face. I kiss her throat, pull the tender skin between my lips and suck. Hard.
Her thighs quake and the soft sounds falling from her lips spur me on until I’m lost to my need for release. I close my eyes, bite down, and send her soaring over the edge. My mind scatters, my heart pounds and I follow right after her with a primal growl against her throat.
Seconds pass as I catch my breath and wait for awareness to return. I pull myself off her, toss the condom in the trash, and tuck myself back into my sweatpants. She looks like an erotic painting, sprawled out on my bed with her open shirt, rumpled skirt, and the angry red mark I left behind on her neck.
She sits up, pulls off her blindfold and meets my eyes boldly. “Even better than I thought it would be.”
“Happy to be of service,” I say through clenched teeth. I hate how easily I gave in. I hate myself for not being able to resist her. Lucky for me, self-hatred is something I’ve spent my life perfecting. “Anything else I can do for you, Miss Brawley?”
She fixes her shirt, buttoning up to the top and covering my mark. I have an unreasonable desire to rip her collar open.
She ties the black scarf around her neck and straightens her skirt. “Yes, Mr. Web.” She smooths her hair, easily putting herself back together as if she’d never been dirtied by me. “We’re just getting started.” She slips on her shoes and moves toward the door, stopping at my shoulder, she looks up at me with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “We’re not so different, you know.”
“How would you know?” I look her up and down making sure she sees disgust on my face rather than the awe-struck attraction I can’t seem to fight. “You don’t even know me.”
“I see it in your eyes, Theodore.”
“Oh yeah, and what do you think you see?”
“The same thing you see when you look in mine. Nothing.” She walks out of my room without another word, and there’s one thing I know without a doubt.
This isn’t the last I’ll see of Emery Brawley.
Spider and Emery’s story continues in Hail Mary releasing Fall 2020.
ABOUT JB SALSBURY
JB Salsbury is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. She lives in Phoenix, Arizona with her husband and two kids.
Her love of good storytelling led her to earn a degree in Media Communications. With her journalistic background, writing has always been at the forefront, and her love of romance propelled her career as an author.
She spends the majority of her day behind the computer where a world of battling alphas, budding romance, and impossible obstacles claws away at her subconscious and begs to be released to the page.
For more information on her books, or just to say hello, visit JB on her website, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.
Web: http://www.jbsalsbury.com/
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WHATEVER IT TAKES
* * *
GIANNA GABRIELA
ARI COLE
ONE MORE STEP would mean certain death.
Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating, but that’s how it feels right now.
“Jump!” I hear someone yell.
“You wouldn’t dare,” someone else adds.
“She’s got no balls!!!” An idiot says, and I want nothing more than to turn around and find him so I can punch him in the face.
The thing is... if I turn around, I’ll walk away. I know I’ll chicken out, so I refuse to turn around. I need to stay focused.
If I do this wrong, if I take one wrong step, I could die.
Honestly, I probably could die. I mean, I’m standing on top of the highest rock in Forest Pines Lake, with a drink in my hand, my underwear riding up my butt, and my jeans and T-shirt pooled at my feet, getting ready to jump off.
I look down at the water beneath me and
take a deep breath as I try to muster up the courage.
The wind picks up speed and I shiver. Who thought this was a good idea?
“Are you going to do it? Or are you just going to stand there all night?” someone asks.
“Shouldn’t write a check your ass can’t cash,” someone else yells. Who even says that?
“I could’ve been inside partying right now!” another complains and all the voices mesh together in the background of what might be the biggest mistake I have ever made, if I end up making it.
I shouldn’t have said I could do this... but once the guys questioned my ability to do so, I had to prove them wrong. It’s their fault really, they started it. The baseball guys…it’s always the baseball guys.
We were at a party at Stevenson’s house to kick off the long weekend when I somehow found myself in the middle of an argument I had no business being part of.
Well, I may have inserted myself into their conversation.
But that’s beside the point. The point is they said I wouldn’t jump.
I said I would. That I’d do it anytime, anywhere. Those were my exact words. Words they took advantage of.
They suggested I do it tonight. Well, suggested is putting it lightly. They put money on it.
I had to win the bet, not only for the money but for the respect that comes with it. If I jump, they won’t doubt me anymore.
News of the bet spread with most people joining to bet against me. My classmates couldn’t believe I had said yes to jumping off a rock, and they would take any chance they could to make some extra cash, not that any of them needed it. People at Bragan Prep didn’t need money. Still, they all craved excitement.
Conveniently for all of us, and I say this sarcastically, Stevenson’s house happens to be near this damn rock, so here we are.
One More Step Page 26
