by Cari Quinn
…
Jill dug her phone out of her purse to check the time. She’d gotten out of work early and texted Bryan in the hope that maybe he might be free. They’d set up their next date of the five for Thursday, but nothing said she couldn’t change things up a bit. So far he hadn’t answered her. The extra time gave her a chance to change outfits. Repeatedly.
She settled on a lacy camisole top and jeans and wondered where she’d gone wrong. Too many words, maybe. She needed to communicate on a level he would respond to in swift fashion.
She shimmied out of her jeans and climbed atop her neatly made bed. Did she dare? She glanced down at her cami and tiny pink panties and considered what Vic might do. Assuming her brother wasn’t involved, of course.
Show him your moves.
She pulled at the top of her cami, showing off a hint of cleavage and her matching pink push-up bra. She reclined against her pillows, biting her lips until they stung. Then she clicked the camera and attached the resulting picture to a text.
I’m just lounging around in bed. Bored and alone. But if you’d rather wait for Thursday…
She sent the text and dropped her cell on the mattress. There. She’d made a move. It was up to him to ignore or counter.
A reply didn’t appear as fast as she’d hoped. The early evening twilight became full darkness while she pondered the benefits of going with a partial nude. Vic would’ve recommended a boob shot, she was almost sure.
The knock on her door took her by surprise. As did the bellowing, “Jill, open up.”
She grinned as she debated pulling on her jeans. Nah, she’d sent a message. Why pretend she wanted him for something else? Good girls played the game. So-called bad girls—her new idols—went after what they wanted. So would she.
She fluffed her hair as she hurried down the hall, a teasing come-on already formed on her lips. But when she opened the door, his clenched jaw silenced her.
He looked…wrecked. Hair disheveled. Expression wild.
“I—”
He shoved her inside and kicked the door closed, pressing her body to it and his mouth to her neck in the span of one frenetic heartbeat.
“What are you doing?”
“You know what happens when you send me pictures that tell me you want to get fucked, baby?” He bit the side of her throat, hard. “I stop what the hell I’m doing and oblige you.”
Adrenaline pumped through her system, and she twisted between him and the door, already so aroused that the wet slide of her thighs reached her ears. Could he hear it, too? He overwhelmed her to the point of insanity. “Do you want to—”
“No more talking. You decided to move our date from Thursday to today, but you ended my plans for conversation and a nice dinner out when you sent me that picture.” He ripped her underwear, and she cried out, not from fear but desire. He shoved his hand down the front of her tattered panties and pushed a finger inside her, groaning at the wetness he found. “God, you’re fucking hot.”
She dropped her forehead against the wood, shamelessly riding his fingers. No hesitation. Heat and excitement coiled in her belly as she bore down, encouraging him to press deeper. To give her what she needed without holding back.
“Are you still sore?”
She couldn’t process the question. “From what?” Then she remembered and tried not to squirm away from his focused attention. “No. Not anymore. It’s been days.” Too long.
“Damn right about that.” He tugged the strap of her cami off her shoulder with his teeth while his fingers continued their relentless assault. “I can tell your pussy missed me. Know how I know?”
She made a sound in submission, torn between wanting to hear more of his dirty talk and wanting him to shut up. She couldn’t focus on the pressure way down low when he was rasping in her ear, his choppy breaths on her neck causing her to spiral higher. Too much. He took her places she was scared to go even as she craved the trip.
“This is how I know. Listen to the music you’re making for me.” He jammed his fingers inside her, her body so slick that there was no mistaking the movement. Her cry of shocked pleasure tumbled free, and he did it again, seeking out that spot inside her that made her thighs shake so hard she couldn’t drag in air.
Again and again he worked her, stroking her so violently she inadvertently banged her head against the door. The lewdness of what he was doing increased her desperation. She rode one hand while she grabbed the other, yanking it up to her breasts, needing to feel him everywhere.
He pulled at her cami, and it tore in strips that caged her sensitive breasts, somehow increasing the sensation of his fingers pulling at her distended nipples.
“Make me come. Please.” She didn’t recognize the high, thin pitch of her own voice. She couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t quite get there.
“I will, baby. I’m living for it.” Then his fingers brushed that swollen area deep inside her, and she jerked in his arms, caught between him and the door. She sobbed, writhing at the hot wave of arousal that flooded through her body.
“So damn sexy.” He pushed his soaked fingers in her mouth. “Taste what I did. What I’m going to do again.”
The scent of her orgasm made her cheeks blaze, but it didn’t stop her from drawing on his fingers, tentatively at first, then with increasing boldness. She slid her lips down to his knuckles, driven on by his uneven breaths. Still sucking, she reached behind him to fumble at his jeans. She wanted to do this to another part of him. She’d never wanted it so badly in her life.
“Uh-uh. Who said I was done with you?” He licked his way up the side of her throat. “I’m going to make you earn it, sweetheart.”
Earn what? His cock?
Before she could ask, he carried her to her bedroom just as he had the other night.
“You’re going to have to stop doing that. I can walk.” The protests seemed weak to her own ears. Though her thrill at his easy strength embarrassed and baffled her, there was no denying it.
Her inner feminist could rant and wail all she wanted, but it was hot to be manhandled by a guy who could hurt you if he wanted to—and never would.
“Oh yeah? Then I better start doing my job right.” He tossed her on her belly on the bed, deliciously rough, and wrapped her fingers around the spokes of her footboard. “Next time you try to get up, you won’t be able to. Your legs won’t support you. You’ll beg me to carry you.”
She would’ve argued if he hadn’t already been digging around in her nightstand top drawer. “What are you doing?”
“Close your eyes. Better yet”—he grabbed the scarf she’d hung from her bedpost—“let’s try this.”
“You want to blindfold me?” she whispered, shocked at how exciting she found the idea.
“I do. I want to do all kinds of dirty, despicable things to you. These pretty pink cheeks get me so fucking hard. I want you to flush every time you hear my name, baby.” He kneeled behind her and ground his length against her ass, leaving no doubt about the thick hardness awaiting her. “Still sure you want to play?”
“Yes. There isn’t a damn thing you can do to me I can’t handle, Townsend.”
“I won’t be gentle.” He brought the flimsy multi-colored scarf down in front of her face and rubbed it against her mouth. In lieu of his kisses, somehow the gauzy fabric felt like an erotic touch. “I’ll take every shred of innocence you have left.”
Her chin quivered, but her resolve never wavered. Though they hadn’t discussed going from zero to sixty in terms of sex play, she was on board. No time to learn like the present. “Good. I can’t wait.”
The blindfold came down over her eyes, closing out the red glow from her nightlight. Trapping her in the dark with the scent of Bryan’s citrus aftershave and the slight tang of his sweat. If she kissed and licked his skin, she’d taste the salt.
Want cramped her belly as he moved away from her, and she gripped the footboard to keep from crying out. In an instant, he returned, his big body shifting over
the mattress. “You know what your picture reminded me of?” He toyed with the scraps of fabric clinging to her torso and hips. “A sweet schoolgirl,” he said. “All you needed were those pigtails from last night. And maybe a short skirt and some white stockings…”
“Here I thought you’d prefer me naked,” she said shakily.
Ignoring her, he rolled an object up her damp inner thigh, and her brain scrambled for an explanation. What was that?
“Then I thought about you all alone in this room,” he said. “Half dressed and lonely. I wondered how you’d pass the time.” He flicked a button, and something buzzed to life between her legs. “I went looking for a piece of paper the other day. Didn’t find it. I found this, though. Perhaps you remember taking it off your dresser and hiding it from me?”
Oh God. As if he’d guessed she would try to scramble away, his hand clamped on her hip, and he wedged his knee between her legs. “Open up. Let me see the mess we made. Before I mess you up even more.”
She couldn’t stifle the whimper from the vibration against her inner thigh. Even a few inches away, the toy was powerful enough to send jolts to her clit. She almost wished he’d gagged her, too, because she couldn’t keep quiet when she used that thing on herself, never mind when he—
Without warning, he slipped the curved head inside her, bypassing her clit completely. Though it barely breached her swollen opening, she let out a wail, caught between despising him with every fiber for turning her into this thrashing, helpless creature and wanting nothing more than to suck him until he blasted off in her throat.
“How much can you take, darlin’?” And there was his kill shot, that seductive drawl that made her wet all on its own. “Let’s see, shall we?” He turned up the speed.
“Bryan,” she pleaded, scrabbling up the bed. She bucked against his implacable grip, sawing her teeth into her lip in a futile attempt to suppress her cries.
“Aww, are you hurting? I’ll make it better.” He flipped the notch to the max, letting out a dark chuckle at her defeated whimper. “You like this, remember? Hell, I know you like it. You’re getting my whole hand wet, sweetness.” He shifted position behind her, rubbing his denim-clad crotch over her ass cheek while he cupped first one breast then the other. No reason for him to hold her in place any longer. He must’ve known it would’ve taken supernatural involvement to detach her white-knuckled grip from the bedpost. “I’ll make you a deal.”
She could barely hear him over her own loud moans. Her need twisted tighter and tighter, her clit swelling to the point of pounding pain, her orgasm just out of reach. And he kept pumping the slippery vibrator in and out, turning his wrist so that the ripples echoed throughout her entire body. Even her breasts tingled, the burn made even worse from the casual way he thumbed the taut peaks.
“What deal?” she managed.
“You stop trying to fight this toy wedged in your pussy. Let me hear you scream and I’ll give you my cock.” He pinched her nipple. “I’ll fuck you the way a toy never can, so deep and hard you’ll be ruined for anything but my dick.”
Her only reply was a moan that pulled tears from her eyes. Then her hips were bucking, flailing without purchase, dislodging the vibrator so that it bounced off the bed and crashed onto the floor.
“Oh baby. This fine ass of yours is begging for a spanking. Or I could start by smacking you here…” She gasped at the all-too-brief slap of his fingers against her overloaded clit. Was he really going to spank her?
He didn’t give her much time to ponder the question. Dimly, she heard him swear and the jerk of his zipper before the telltale sound of a foil packet.
“Hang on, darlin’,” he said hoarsely.
Then he was moving into position, forcing her thighs wide and surging between them while she was still convulsing from her endless climax. She let out a noise that bordered on a scream and hurtled forward from the force of his jean-clad legs pressing against the backs of her thighs.
His cock tunneled inside to the root in one pass, sliding along sensitive nerve endings and tearing another cry from her throat. He grabbed her breasts, slamming her backward into him again and again while she clung to the footboard and prayed she’d live through one more orgasm with this man.
Ruined? Hell no. She’d been branded by him, used in the best way possible. How had she lived so long without knowing what it could be like?
She rocked into his thrusts, sure she wouldn’t be able to come again so soon. He wasn’t touching her clit, just her nipples, and there was no way she’d dare let go of the frame to help herself out.
The familiar tightening in her belly caught her by surprise, almost as much as the pained groan he released a second before he yanked on her hair. He jostled her off her knees, and they went freefalling backward, his cock somehow still buried deep, and then he was urging her hips up, bouncing her on his length like she’d been in this position all along.
Dizzy, overwhelmed, and needing to see, to experience every bit of this, she tugged at her blindfold.
“Keep it on.” His guttural tone struck her to the core as he stilled her hand. “Just fuck me.”
Something in his voice. She couldn’t identify it, didn’t know why she had to get the scarf off her eyes. But she batted at him as she simultaneously squeezed him far inside, using his distraction to get the blindfold off. She climbed off of him, registering his muffled oaths, and turned to see his contorted features and haunted eyes.
Hunger darkened his expression, but not only hunger. Actual pain. She darted her gaze down his body, trying to understand, to put together the pieces, and glimpsed the scars on his right knee. The knee jutting to the side at an awkward angle as he panted and waited for her next move.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “You had surgery? When?”
Jaw working, he stared over her shoulder. “A couple of months ago. After the season.”
“You’ve been pushing yourself through training. And you kneeled with me, for God’s sake. This time and last. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh sure. Any girl wants to be with a guy with a busted knee. That’s so sexy. Why don’t I whip out my crutches so we can have a really wild time?”
The self-loathing she heard made her eyes smart anew. “Vic mentioned something but cut herself off. I should’ve pressed. You’ve been hurting yourself more.” Unable to staunch her need to soothe him, she touched his knee, and he didn’t so much as exhale. But she felt the quake in his muscles as surely as if it were her own. When she was certain her voice would be steady, she raised her gaze to his face. Stress lines bracketed his eyes and mouth. “What makes it feel better? Ice or heat?”
“A fucking orgasm would be a good start.”
His cranky reply shouldn’t have made her lips twitch. She turned her face away, but she wasn’t quick enough.
“Oh sure, you laugh,” he said. “But you were on your way to three.”
“Later we’ll try wrapping it in a sock of frozen peas. Works like a charm and stays in place during light activity, too.”
“Say what?” His incredulity made her laugh. “Now you’re playing naughty nursemaid?”
He kept bringing up different roles. Was he trying to give her a hint? Or did he want something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—verbalize?
“What if I was?” She shifted on her knees, opening them slightly, allowing him an unfettered view while she slid her hand up her side to cup her breast. Lightly, as if she wasn’t paying much attention. She walked her free hand down his torso and along his cock before sliding beneath to tease his balls. “Do you need me to take your temperature?”
“No. I can tell you it’s in the red zone. Christ, woman.” He flung his arm over his eyes, and she grinned.
Role-play was sounding better and better all the time.
“So, how do you feel about me buying a little outfit?” Casually, she shifted until she could lie on her side with her head on his stomach, and then she caressed his big, muscled thighs.
<
br /> “A little outfit like what?” There was no ignoring the catch in his voice.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She dragged her thumbnail along the inside of his thigh and savored his inhalation. “That schoolgirl outfit you mentioned. Maybe a nurse’s getup. They must have that at a costume store, right? Though my breasts never fit in those tops.” She flashed him what she hoped was a sultry smile and found him peering down at her, like he was soaking her up with his eyes. “Curse of being too full-figured, I guess.”
“You’re fucking perfect.” His growl washed over her, warmer even than the fierce light in his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind you even fuller. When we get done here, let’s go out to eat.”
She didn’t expect to laugh while in bed with a man. Or that it could be so easy and natural. “Are you trying to fatten me up?”
“No. It’s dinner time. And we’re working up an appetite.” He traced the shell of her ear. “I want to feed you across the table and watch your lips work my fingers like they’re about to work my dick.” That light in his eyes flickered, then burned more strongly. “I hope.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Fried chicken,” he said without hesitation. “The crispy, golden, succulent kind your mama used to make—” He shut his eyes and swore. “I’m a damn moron.”
“No, you’re not. I’m glad you have good memories of her. I do, too. And I like talking about her.” Swallowing hard, she patted his thigh. “I haven’t had anyone to talk with about her in a while. Vic listens, but she’s so busy with wedding prep and Cory, and…well, I don’t want to bring her down.”
“Talking about your sweet mama can only lift her up.” The finger still toying with her ear caught in her hoop earring and tugged gently. “I miss her. But I see her in you. You smile like she did.”
“No, I don’t.” She shook her head quickly before he could see the flash of tears. “I’ve scoured my face, and I don’t look anything like her. I’m pale like she is. Was,” she corrected. “But that’s all.”
