Ridden (Scandalous Moves Book 3)

by Deborah Grace Staley

  “There are some situations where I like to be in control.”

  “Sex?” she said, her lips close to his.

  “It depends,” he said cautiously.

  “On?”

  Her hands were busy unbuttoning his shirt and exploring his chest now.

  “On what the woman needs.”

  She flattened her hand against his chest and leaned back, all softness in her face gone. “Then you must think I needed a cocky control freak in my bed.”

  “You control everyone and everything in your life.” He brushed his fingers across the upper curve of her breast. “Doesn’t it feel good to let go and just enjoy being sensual and feminine while I take care of you?”

  In response, she squeezed his balls. A.J. winced. “I like and hate it in equal measures.” She trailed her hand up the outline of his erection beneath his jeans. “What about your needs?”

  “Seeing your face, feeling your body tighten on me when you come, that’s all I need.”

  “Do you always take control in bed?”

  He was getting uncomfortable. Her hand on his body felt like she was touching something inside him instead.

  “What would happen if you let me have control?”

  “You’re deflecting,” he said. She raised an eyebrow. “Avoiding thinking about whatever happened before by focusing on something else.”

  Her smile mesmerized him. “Now you’re deflecting.”

  She had him there. “Maybe,” he admitted, smiling.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” she said, her voice husky. “I’ll tell you what happened if you let me make love to you.”

  He hadn’t let go with a woman . . . maybe ever. In way of enticement, she kissed him, soft and tender at first, and then she took it deeper, her tongue too easily mastering his when he tried to take the lead. When she broke the kiss, feminine satisfaction shined in her eyes and damn if he wasn’t considering her proposition. Hell, what man could resist her?

  “I don’t need to know what happened at the bar.”

  “Really?”

  He shrugged. “As long as you’re okay.”

  “And if I said I wasn’t? If I said someone came after me in the bathroom?”

  A.J. put his hands on her arms and noticed the red marks there. “Is that what happened,” he said, his words quiet and intense.

  Maddie nodded. “But I took care of it.”

  “Who?”

  “Billy Ray.”

  A.J. growled.

  “I think I broke his nose.”

  Fury raged inside him, but her words checked it. “You broke his nose?”

  She nodded and bit her finger, waiting.

  “Anything else?”

  “He’s going to have trouble walking tomorrow, and I may have punctured something when I stepped on him.”

  A.J. laughed.

  “He was blocking the door,” she explained.

  A.J. buried his face in her hair and just breathed. “How?”

  “How what?”

  “How did you do it?”

  She laughed. “I’m a New Yorker. I know how to handle myself.”

  He framed her face in his hands and said, “I’m sorry you’ve had to—that you’ve been alone so long with no one to depend on but yourself.”

  She leaned back, like she was trying to distance herself from him. “As you said, that’s my choice.” When he didn’t comment further, she eased off his lap. “I see.”

  “What do you see?”

  “You think it’s okay for a man to choose to be alone, but not a woman.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” She put on her jacket, then turned in a circle looking for the rest of her things.

  A.J. stood and eased a hand back over his head. “Maybe I wish I’d been there for you.”

  She stopped moving. “That makes no sense.”

  “I know.” He put his hands on his hips, wishing he could stop talking, but he’d do anything to keep her from leaving. Anything. “Stay,” he said.

  “I should go. This is getting . . .”

  “Too close?”

  “Too intimate,” she corrected.

  Speaking of intimate. “Besides, we had a deal. You tell me what happened at the bar—”

  “And I get to make you lose control.”

  He smiled. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”

  She took a step forward. “Have you ever let a woman have control in bed?”

  He’d let women think they had control. Control, after all, was a subtle illusion. People only needed to believe they had control, after all. He took off his shirt. “I’m at your mercy.” He reached for his belt.

  “Stop.”

  He gave her what he hoped was a quizzical look.

  “I didn’t ask you to undress.”

  “I didn’t volunteer to be your submissive, either.”

  She came closer—close enough to trace the pattern of the tattoo on his bicep with the tip of her polished nail. “Don’t get cranky. I promise you’ll like it.”

  A.J. frowned, and Maddie laughed. “Good thing I like playing with large, dangerous animals.”

  10

  A.J. looked big and bad and pissed off, but willing. That humbled Maddie. She took his hand and led him to the bedroom. Inside, she shut the door. Shrugging out of her jacket, she circled him. In nothing but low-slung jeans and biker boots, he was any woman’s fantasy of a bad boy, but Maddie knew it was just an act.

  She pushed against his chest until she’d backed him up to the bed, then she pushed a little harder until he fell back onto it. Instead of joining him, she unbuttoned her black jeans and pushed them down her legs with a lot of shimmy in between. After she’d kicked them aside, she grasped the edges of her chemise. A strap slid down her arm almost exposing her breast. A.J.’s breathing changed. He shifted his hips, trying to adjust jeans that had clearly become uncomfortably tight.

  Maddie inched the hem up her abdomen, exposing several inches of skin. The small triangle of satin at the juncture of her thighs barely covered anything. There was nothing else to her thong but elasticized lace that arched over her hips to another tiny, satin triangle at the top of her crack. She turned, and the other strap fell to her elbow. Maddie hooked a thumb in the elastic of her thong and pulled it down while she looked over her shoulder, watching A.J. He unbuttoned his pants, lowered the zipper, and sighed at the relief he felt.

  “You’re a damn tease, Maddie Greene,” he grumbled.

  She wiggled her hips as she lowered her thong, the chemise still hanging at her elbows. “Are you not enjoying the show?”

  “God, yes.” She bent, letting the panties drop to her ankles, then spread her legs wide and looked back at him. “You’re wet,” he observed.

  “Very,” she confirmed as she rose and turned. The chemise pooled at her waist. Her breasts felt heavy and sensitive as she stared at him. She tried to push the garment down over her hips, but it wouldn’t go. “Do you think you could help me?” she asked.

  A.J.’s breathing became more labored. He nodded. When she’d moved close enough, he grasped the chemise in both hands and ripped it. Maddie’s thighs clenched, and she almost came then and there. “You’re so . . . powerful.”

  “You’re the one with the power,” he countered.

  She touched his shoulder. “How does that make you feel?”

  “Like I’m going to explode from wanting to—”

  Maddie laid a finger on his lips to stop his words. “My turn. Stand up.” When he’d done as she asked, she moved around him and sat on the bed. After she’d leaned back on her elbows, mimicking his previous position, she said, “Now you.” She bent one knee and propped her foot on the bed, then let her knee fall over while she watched him.

  Impatient, he pushed his pants down, almost taking his boxer briefs with them.

  “Slower, please,” her words were measured and softly spoken. He let his pants fall and kicked them aside. Then, like her
, he turned and pulled his boxer briefs down while he watched her. She loved the way his black tattoo angled across his side and swirled over his ass in a circular pattern. Simply put, he was male perfection. After he stepped out of his boxer briefs, he turned and let her look at him.

  “You’re quite impressive,” she said. What an understatement. She had never seen a man so powerfully built. Fully aroused, his muscles bulging as he held himself in check, she could have looked at him for hours, but she had other things in mind. She scooted back on the bed and rose to her knees. “Join me.”

  In two strides, he was on the bed and reaching for her, but she evaded him. “Should I tie you to the bed?” She took his wrists and lifted his hands above his head with her knees on either side of his hips. His erection strained toward her. “Soon,” she promised, and kissed him. She met his urgency with long, slow caresses, intentionally setting the pace. She intended to take her time. When she’d finished exploring his mouth for now, she tasted his neck, then sucked the spot at the base of his neck. Her hands still on his arms, keeping them above his head, she went lower, licking his chest, biting his nipples, and then going even lower. His abs were hard and defined, and she traced each dip and curve with her tongue, exploring completely until she found those hot, angular lines between his hip and thigh. His cock jerked when she traced them with her nails. He’d closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tight, and she smiled as she spread his legs and touched her mouth to his inner thigh. She sucked the skin into her mouth and raked her teeth to his knee, touching the soft spot behind it.

  He smelled like heaven: spice, fresh air, and hot male. She crawled back up his body, stopping at his cock for a taste. She licked the tip, circling it with her tongue before taking it into her mouth. He was mangling a pillow now, moaning her name over and over, and she’d never loved the name Maddie more. Grasping his shaft, she set a steady rhythm that had him restless beneath her. She felt strong, powerful, and incredibly sexy, knowing that he liked what she was doing to him.

  “Maddie—condom—now,” he said brokenly.

  She positioned herself above him. Kissing him softly, she whispered against his lips, “No condom, please. I want to feel you come inside me.” She touched his tip to her wet opening. “Yes?”

  He looked into her eyes, hesitating, then he thrust up into her. Maddie arched her back, drawing him deeper inside. She smiled, laced her fingers with his, and began to move on him, undulating her torso against his. His moans of pleasure made her bold, and she leaned back so she could take him deeper. When the pleasure increased, she cried out and almost came. He grasped her upper thighs and his thumb found her clit, making her cry out again.

  “Come,” he said.

  “No,” she countered. “You first.”

  “I can wait.”

  “So can I,” she said, determined, but weakening when he thrust deeper hitting the spot that made her burn. With a hand low on his abs, she pulled off him, trying to catch her breath.

  “There’s no need,” he insisted, trying to thrust back into her. “Take your pleasure.”

  “You first,” she insisted as she clutched at his tip with her inner muscles.

  “Oh . . .”

  She rotated her hips and hung on tight, her nipples brushing his chest. “Come,” she said, commanding him the way he’d done with her. She took him deeper, setting a faster pace he soon matched. He came hard, wave after wave of his pleasure filling her. She took everything he had, but wanted more. She reached behind, massaging him until he hardened again. He rolled her beneath him and growled.

  She touched A.J.’s heated face, trying to soothe him. “We have all night,” she promised, and kissed him.

  He felt exposed. Vulnerable and edgy. He’d never let a woman get this close, but Maddie Greene had blown into his life with the finesse of a tornado. When he tried to take over the kiss, regain some ground with her, she pulled back. Her smile held secrets, but he hated not knowing. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Let me take care of you tonight.” She trailed a hand down his arm, grasped his hand and brought it to her lips. While she gave particular attention to each finger, he tried to process.

  “That’s not how this works,” he said.

  “Why?” She turned and pushed him to his side, facing him.

  He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came.

  “You don’t have to be in control.”

  “But you do?”

  She shook her head, then opened her mouth on his throat. Her hands found his ass, and she trailed her foot from the back of his ankle to his knee, opening for him. “I want to touch every inch of you—learn what you like and what you don’t.”

  “I can’t imagine what you could do to me that I wouldn’t like.”

  “It’s more about exploration.”

  He grasped her inner thigh so he could touch her hot, slick opening. “Someone’s always in control.”

  Her toes curled against the back of his thigh. He knew exactly how to give her body what it craved. But he held back. Curious, he caressed her ankle and searched her face, her eyes—for what, he wasn’t sure.

  “You feel it, don’t you?” she said. “There’s more to learn about me than how to make me come.”

  She tipped her head back, exposing her neck and he gave in to temptation. His reward was the feel of her low hum against his tongue.

  “I’m into more elemental urges,” he countered. He didn’t need her probing the hidden places inside him. Sex was enough for him. It was all he could give.

  She smiled again, that smile that made him feel like she could dispel the darkness inside him. “Think of it as a journey of discovery with many things to explore along the way—things other than orgasm.”

  Curious, he asked, “Such as?”

  She traced the black tattoo on his body from his shoulder to his pec, down to his hip. She touched the ink, but traced the scars there as well. “These must have been painful,” she said in the same soft, measured tones she used to seduce or soothe.

  “It was a long time ago,” he deflected and moved his hand to her heart. “Your scars don’t show.”

  Her breath caught, and she tensed, so he pressed his mouth to the spot, but didn’t linger there. He turned his cheek and listened to the strong, steady beat. “I’m not sure I want to know what he put you through.” When she didn’t speak, he added, “But a jury might determine ‘he had it coming’ is a valid defense.”

  She laughed, and because he couldn’t resist, he kissed the upper curve of her breast. She eased a hand around his neck. “Mmm . . . Life goes on. The memories fade.”

  “Until you return to the place that brings it all back.”

  She kissed him softly, touched his face, looked at him like she wanted to remember this moment. “It’s the ultimate test . . . to prove to yourself that you’ve healed.”

  A.J. kissed her. “Have you healed then?”

  She laughed and rubbed her elbow. “Breaking a nose does wonders in that department.”

  He leaned back and propped an arm behind his head, settling her against his chest. “You are a badass.”

  “Most days.”

  “And other days?”

  “I fake it,” she said flatly.

  He brushed her hair back from her face. “Have you really been alone all these years?”

  She went back to tracing the tattoo and scars on his pec. “I had the kids, amazing friends, and my parents.”

  “You never re-married.”

  “No,” she said decisively. “But I’ve had—companions.”

  Jealousy came swift and unexpected. Of course she’d have men in her life. Maybe she was seeing someone now.

  “Before you, I hadn’t been with anyone for quite a while.”

  Surprised at her honesty, he asked, “Why?”

  She rested her cheek against his chest before she spoke. “I tired of the process.”

  When she didn’t elaborate, he prompted. “What does that mean?�
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  “You meet someone. Find you’re compatible,” her hand went south, and when she found what she was looking for, she added, “sexually. You’re together for a few months, maybe even a year. And then he begins to want more. Starts making demands.” Her hand moved down to his thighs, and A.J. got more restless. “Extricating myself has gotten more and more unpleasant. So, I’ve been avoiding the—unpleasantness.” Her hand was on its way back up from his knee. “You have an amazing body. You must work out all the time.”

  “Some.” Most every night—when he couldn’t sleep.

  “What about you? You said you don’t date women in town, but you didn’t say you don’t date.”

  “Much like you, I’ve had arrangements with women. Friends with benefits arrangements.”

  She stroked him before asking. “Anyone at the moment?”

  He tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “I’m a one-woman-at-a-time kind of guy.”

  She moved over him. “Good,” she said and coated him with her juices. The look of pleasure on her face mesmerized him. “You’re going to be hard to forget, A.J. Johnson.”

  He rolled until she was on her back and his lips were on her belly. With his hands on her ass, he said, “Same goes.”

  As he lowered his head to taste her, she said, “You could visit me in New York. It’s not so far.”

  That stopped him, but not for long. The need to taste her was too strong. “I don’t go to the city.” He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue, then pushed his tongue inside her. She bucked, but he held her steady and pressed in again before returning his attention to her hard nub. He eased her leg over his shoulder and focused all his attention on the spot. When she came, he rose and pushed into her. He wanted to feel her spasms—wanted to stroke her even higher as she crested. He pulled her up off the bed and lifted her up and down while her orgasm kept coming. He groaned, and unable to hold back his own pleasure, joined her. The intensity of her orgasm triggered something deep inside him that reached out to match hers. When they finally finished, they were both completely spent.