I Brake For Bad Boys

by Foster, Lori

  She believed him. This Eric was so different from the shrewd businessman who balanced his more serious, executive side with a carefree, flirtatious attitude. There was nothing carefree about the lover he’d created solely for her pleasure. No, this man was as mysterious as the night, oozed raw male energy even when he wasn’t moving, and was outrageously blatant in his intent and approach.

  The provocative fantasy beckoned, stealing her common sense and leaving behind an explicit hunger she felt helpless to deny.

  “What do you get out of this?” she asked, before she lost the nerve.

  He tilted his head. “I have a few of my own fantasies I’d like to fulfill, as well.” Retrieving the brush from her hand, he smacked the flat backside against his palm. “Have you ever been spanked by a lover before?”

  “No.” She quivered deep inside, admittedly feeling a little breathless at the thoughts invading her mind. Wicked, shameless visions that caused a melting warmth to cascade through her veins. She lifted her gaze back to his face, and found him smiling at her in that devastating way of his. “I’m not into pain.”

  “Me either. For myself, or my partner.”

  “I’m relieved,” she said, and meant it.

  He caressed the smooth, wooden surface of the brush with long, stroking fingers. “But you might find it more pleasurable than you think, with the right man. I would think a light spank on such pale, tender flesh, done in a restrained way, could be very arousing.”

  He walked behind her, and she braced herself for a stinging slap on her bottom, torn between panic and an inexplicable excitement, but the spanking never came. Instead, he gathered her hair back, unraveled the strands from the unfinished braid, and let the silky mass flow down her spine. She shivered and closed her eyes as he slowly pulled the brush from the crown of her head to the ends of her hair. His fingers joined in on the luxurious treatment, massaging her scalp, the nape of her neck, chasing away the last of her tension and completely relaxing her. Unused to being pampered in such a wondrous way, she couldn’t contain the soft groan of pure pleasure that rose up from her chest.

  “You have beautiful hair,” he murmured near her ear, his voice low, deep, and soothing. As was the palm that trailed down her bare arm in a languid, nerve-tingling stroke. “You always wear it up at work, and I never knew how long it was, how wavy and soft.”

  Her breasts swelled, her breathing deepened, and she felt completely hypnotized by his beguiling monologue, his tantalizing touch.

  “I love long hair,” he continued. “The way it feels grazing my naked body, and especially how sexy and erotic it feels having the strands wrapped in my fist so I can be the one in control.”

  His long fingers tightened around the hair at the nape of her neck, and he gently tugged her head back, giving her no choice but to heed his silent command to rest her head against his shoulder. He brushed his warm, velvet-soft lips along her jaw, and let his teeth graze the side of her throat. Her mind spun, and she moaned.

  She felt him smile triumphantly against her neck, felt the hot, damp gust of his breath on her skin. “Do you like the way that feels, too?”

  Oh, yes, she liked. Her whole body felt alive, heavy and hot, pulling tight and aching for him. Between her legs she could feel her own slick moisture, and the steady, growing throb that preluded an orgasm.

  “I also like to be in control during sex, and dominant. Even a bit aggressive. Does that bother you?”

  She dampened her bottom lip with her tongue, briefly wondering if his dominant act was solely for the purpose of the fantasy, or if he always liked being in control with women. “No, that doesn’t bother me.” Oh, God, his aggression excited her.

  He released her hair, set her brush on the dresser, and turned her around to face him. Tucking a finger beneath her chin, he lifted her gaze to his. She glimpsed the hot fire in his eyes, could sense his barely suppressed restraint, and felt singed by the intimate connection between them.

  “I want you to know that I would never hurt you,” he said, his tone low and reassuring. “Ever. Do you believe me?”

  She trusted him and his promise. “Yes.”

  He nodded succinctly, seemingly satisfied with her answer. “This is all about fulfilling fantasies and desires, playful or dark, but if I get too rough or go too far, all you have to say is stop, and I will.”

  She didn’t miss the underlying warning that he would get sexually demanding with her. Dominant. She swallowed hard, the possibilities arousing her. Oh, Lord, was she really going to go through with this wild, imaginative idea of his?

  “Even right now, the choice is yours,” he murmured, letting his fingers drift away from her face. “To end the fantasy, all you have to do is tell me to go. To continue the fantasy, issue me an invitation to stay.”

  Struggling with those personal ethics of hers playing tug-of-war with the simple words, stay or go, she attempted to take a step back from him. But in a move she couldn’t have anticipated he pressed her up against the wall next to the dresser. Flattening his hands on either side of her shoulders, he leaned into her, aligning their stomachs and thighs. He nudged his rock-hard erection against her mound, and applied a delicious pressure that heightened the need clawing at her.

  “Eric . . .”

  His eyes glittered like burnished sapphires, and his jaw clenched tight, making him appear as dark and dangerous as the phantom lover he claimed to be. His hands dropped to her waist and slid possessively over her hips, then slipped around to grab her ass. He lifted her up onto her toes, angled her pelvis, and slowly, sensuously, ground his straining shaft against the swollen folds of her sex.

  “I want to fuck you,” he growled, his words as explicit and rough as the friction of his coarse jeans rubbing against the wet, slick silk of her panties. “With my fingers, my tongue, my cock. Slow and deep, hard and fast . . . and every way there is.”

  Her stomach muscles clenched in a forbidden kind of thrill, and her head rolled back against the wall in complete surrender. Oh, yes, please.

  He buried his face against her neck, and as if he had a direct link to her mind and thoughts, he released her bottom and pushed the straps of her gown off her shoulders and down her arms. The fabric slithered to the ground, leaving her bare except for her panties.

  He eased back, quickly yanked his shirt over his head, and tossed the garment to the floor. Her breath hitched at the sight of his wide chest, defined by gorgeous male contours and warm tan skin she tested with her splayed palms. He dipped his head again, his damp lips sliding down her throat, and his hands finding and kneading her full breasts. His calloused thumbs raked over her puckered nipples, and then his hot, wet mouth was there, his tongue flicking over the rigid tips, his teeth nibbling the taut swells of her breasts before he suckled her, hard and strong. With each deep, suctioning pull of his mouth, scorching waves of desire rolled through her.

  The pleasure was so acute, so intense, she cried out, her body pulsing for the release she’d denied herself earlier. Twisting her fingers into his thick hair, she arched into him to get closer, so beyond rational thought that she couldn’t hold back the begging sounds escaping the back of her throat.

  His hand slid from her breast down her torso, heating her flesh everywhere he touched. Kneeing her legs apart, he grasped the side of her panties, and with a fierce tug he ripped the insubstantial scrap of fabric right off her hips. She gasped, both shocked and inflamed by his primitive behavior.

  Abruptly lifting his head from her breasts, he slanted his mouth across hers and parted her lips with the persuasive pressure of his own. He kissed her forcefully, plundering her mouth with his tongue at the same time his palm fastened over her mound and his long fingers slipped between her slick folds and penetrated her lush, weeping sex. He buried the pad of his thumb against her clitoris, expertly finessed that hard, sensitive nub of flesh, then stopped just as she was poised on the brink of a shattering climax.

  She closed her eyes and shuddered at the loss of pu
lsing sensation that had promised her a glimpse of paradise.

  He dragged his mouth from hers and whispered in her ear, “You’re so tight around my fingers. I can feel your inner muscles pulling at me, drawing me deeper. You want to come, don’t you, baby?”

  More than anything. She could only manage a whimper in response, and with her hands clutching his taut arms, she gyrated her hips rhythmically against his hand, a silent plea to end the sensual torment and let her soar.

  He withheld what she wanted, his fingers filling her, but absolutely still. “Stay or go, sweetheart,” he drawled as his lips caressed her jaw, the corner of her mouth. “One word is all it takes to get what you want.”

  Bewildered and frustrated, she opened her heavy-lidded eyes and searched his expression, which was etched with unbridled lust. She could feel the sexual tension vibrating off his body and the deep, heavy rhythm of his breathing that spoke of his own arousal as he waited patiently for her to make the final decision.

  Stay or go.

  With one word from her, he was offering her the chance to explore raw, earthy, uninhibited sex, something she’d imagined in her mind in the dark of night, but had never had the nerve to instigate with another man. Her last boyfriend, Jeremy, hadn’t been at all adventurous, and had been as formal and stuffy in bed as he had been working by her side during the day. But Eric . . . Eric was virile and unwavering in his prowess, and confident of the kind of pleasure he could give her. And he might be playing a dark and dangerous kind of role, but his touch was underscored with a tempered gentleness she trusted.

  He wanted her permission, her approval. Her complete acquiescence. And more than anything, she wanted to lose herself in physical sensation. With this forbidden fantasy of his, she wouldn’t have to worry about the kind of emotional attachments that had turned so disastrous for her in the past, personally and professionally. And she instinctively knew if she let him go, she’d regret her decision for the rest of her life. She wanted this clandestine and temporary affair, and Eric. But with her consent she knew this night wasn’t going to end with her climax. No, that would be just the beginning.

  “Stay,” she said, accepting her ultimate surrender to this fantasy man, her phantom lover, and everything else that came with her submission. “I want you to stay.”

  A grin of male satisfaction curved his lips and he leaned into her, crushing his chest against the soft cushion of her breasts. Their mouths were inches apart, their panting breaths mingling, but he didn’t kiss her. Staring directly into her eyes, he proceeded to take her where she wanted to go.

  His long fingers thrust into her, slow and deep, and his thumb plied the knot of nerves between her quivering thighs until the fire inside her blazed into hot, liquid sensation.

  “Come,” he commanded gruffly, and with his sweet, searing stroke to her cleft she gave herself over to the rippling orgasm in wild abandon and a soft, keening cry.

  Somewhere in her mind she heard him groan, “Oh, yeah,” as he wrung the last of the tremors from her body, followed by, “Oh, baby, you needed that as much as I do, didn’t you?”

  She didn’t have the energy to answer, not that one was required when it was obvious how deprived she’d been, and how aroused he still was. She sagged against the wall, grateful for the support of his body that kept her upright. He withdrew his fingers, lifted his hand, and slid the soft, wet tip of one finger, slick with her desire, along her bottom lip.

  She jerked back in startled surprise.

  He didn’t relent. Instead, he gently pushed the plump flesh of her lower lip down, forcing her mouth to open. “Taste,” he ordered.

  She recognized the challenge he issued. Another dark fantasy he wanted to fulfill. She’d come this far, and while what he was asking for was something she’d never done before, she wasn’t about to back down from his sexy, bold dare.

  Drawing his finger all the way into her mouth, she swirled her tongue along the length, tasting the salt on his skin and her own dewy essence. She groaned and sucked him deeper, watching as his eyes dilated with sexual hunger. His nostrils flared, and she reveled in the momentary power she held over him.

  “Christ. I can’t wait any longer,” he muttered, and withdrawing his finger, he replaced it with the heat of his mouth and the thrust of his tongue, his sudden urgency nearly tangible. With his lips fused to hers, he wrapped a strong arm around her waist and maneuvered her toward the bed.

  He followed her up onto the center of the mattress and nudged her legs wide apart so he could kneel in between her splayed thighs, giving her no time to cling to any last semblance of modesty. His eyes branded her, from her breasts to her belly to the glistening folds of her sex as he fumbled with his belt, then tore frantically at the buttons of his jeans. His fly opened, and he shoved the waistband of his pants over his hips, freeing his long, thick shaft to her gaze.

  Her breath stalled in her lungs as she took in the size and length of him. The impressive width. His shaft looked as smooth as velvet and hard as steel, and more than she’d ever had before. She couldn’t hold back the strangled sound that slipped from her.

  A slow, bad-boy grin made an appearance. “You did this to me, sweetheart,” he said, his accusation soft and laced with amusement as he reached into the front pocket of his jeans and withdrew a foil packet. Ripping it open, he sheathed his erection in the thin latex. “I can’t remember ever being this hard and thick before.”

  A tiny thrill shot through her, that she’d done that to him. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

  “You can bet it is.” He draped her thighs over his and touched her intimately, making her wetter, hotter, all over again. “I’ve been hard with wanting you ever since the first moment we met.”

  All talk ceased as he moved over her and the smooth, broad head of his penis nudged her opening, stretching her, giving her no choice but to accept him, all of him, until with one final, forceful thrust he was buried to the hilt.

  She sucked in a quick breath and gripped his shoulders, his skin slick and damp against her palms. He was big, hot, and solid inside her, and her back arched in an attempt to accommodate his invasion, which drove him deeper. He groaned like a dying man and completely covered her body with his. His hands tangled in her hair, and his mouth claimed hers in a kiss as erotic as the carnal joining of their flesh. The tempo of his pistoning hips escalated into a wild, primitive coupling, and he ground himself against her mound, creating a near unbearable friction designed to make her come again.

  The flame of passion between them burned hotter, higher, brighter, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and rocked against him, urging him toward his own climax. With a low, guttural growl, he wrenched his mouth from hers and tossed his head back, his breath exploding from his lungs in heavy, labored gasps. He drove deep one last time, sending her spiraling into a lush vortex of sensation, then shuddered violently with his own release as she contracted around his fully embedded shaft.

  When the storm of passion had passed, he stared into her eyes and brushed tendrils of hair from her flushed face, his gaze awed, and his touch gentle and reverent. With his fingers still caught in her hair, he slowly lowered his head and drifted his mouth along the curve of her neck and shoulder, then kissed her again, his lips sliding softly, leisurely over hers.

  There was a sensitivity and caring in his actions that made her feel delicate, sensual, and cherished in the aftermath of such an untamed possession. And that revelation was an odd contradiction to the aggressive man she’d just given her body to. Yet there was no denying that this man embracing her so affectionately inspired the kind of intimacy lacking in her life, and seemed to draw something deeper from her than just sex. She felt as though he was touching a part of her soul that had been empty and lonely for too long.

  The sentimental thought shook her, because it went against her need to remain detached and unemotionally involved. “Eric,” she whispered, uncertain what was happening between them. Wondering if he felt the subtl
e shift, too.

  “Shhh.” He kissed her one last time, and without another word he pulled away, separating their bodies so he could take care of the condom and put his clothes back on.

  She immediately felt the loss, missed his warmth and closeness, and berated herself for allowing too much reality to mix in with the fantasy.

  Once he was dressed, he put her beneath the covers and brushed his mouth across hers in a sweet, fleeting caress. “Good night, sweetheart,” he murmured against her cheek.

  He moved soundlessly across the room, a renegade dressed all in black, but before he could slip out the French doors and into the night, she rose up on her arm and blurted, “When will I see you again?” She cringed at the desperation in her voice.

  He turned and smiled at her, seemingly pleased with her question and that she wanted to see him again. “Soon,” he said, the promise a vague one, and disappeared into the shadows.

  Chapter Three

  Eric glanced around the expensively furnished boardroom at Massey and Associates, not at all surprised to see avid interest reflected on the faces of the partners of the firm as they listened to what their freelance creative director had to say in regards to the Enchanted Cruise Line presentation.

  He hid a smile, knowing Jill’s intelligence and bright, innovative ideas had a way of inspiring that kind of admiration from those she worked with. And even from the man she’d slept with the evening before. Not only did he admire her, but he respected her, too. Personally and professionally.

  He’d gone to her house with a hot, forbidden affair in mind to get her out of his system. And while they’d indulged in erotic pleasures that had satiated him physically, he’d ended up craving so much more than sex with her. He’d absolutely hated leaving her after the intimacy they’d shared—and that hesitancy was an unfamiliar feeling for him since he didn’t usually linger in a woman’s bed. With Jill, he almost had.