by Lilli Feisty
He needed to work on that.
Chapter Eight
Phoebe tried to jerk away from Nick’s grip, but he held her firm. He was lean but freakishly strong, and he had no problem keeping her hand clenched tightly in his. A shiver went up her arm at the contact.
She glared up at him. “What do you want?”
Despite his casual appearance, she could swear she saw something in his eyes—something that belied his callous words and obvious attitude problem. His blue eyes bored into hers, and in those depths, she detected something strange.
“Oh, stop it,” she said.
“You don’t want me to stop anything.”
She lifted her chin. “Don’t give me that look.”
He seemed genuinely surprised. “What look?”
“That one, the one that says you’re trying to be all nice.”
“Nice?”
In a flash he reversed their positions, so she was now backed up against the counter. “I’ll show you nice.”
He released her hand and grabbed the counter on each side, enclosing her. She sucked in a breath. She could feel him, feel his legs pressed against hers. And then he pressed his crotch against her, and she felt it.
He was hard. Like, really hard. Harder even than in the forest, and that had been quite impressive.
How could she—a woman who must seem so plain in comparison to all those L.A. girls—get a man like Nick Avalon so frisky? She wasn’t insecure about her appearance. She knew she wasn’t a total knockout, but she wasn’t dog meat either. Still, why would a man like Nick Avalon be attracted to a girl like plain old Phoebe? Not that she was old. Thirty-two wasn’t old. Well, maybe in L.A. But not here.
Was it?
He took her chin in his hand. “Stop it.”
“What?”
“Thinking.”
She tried to swat his hand away from her face, but he held her steady. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she asked.
“I would.”
“Oh, I’m sure. Then you better go find yourself some bimbo with no brain.”
“I fully plan on it.”
“So why are you here—”
His lips stopped her words. His mouth pushed against hers, assaulting her as he pressed his jeans-clad erection against the flimsy folds of her skirt.
Damn. Much to her dismay, her body had already responded to him. She was wet, and her breasts were aching for his touch. His lips were warm, and his tongue was licking at her, trying to get her to open.
She opened. His kiss…it melted her. His mouth invited her in, teased her. Everything faded as her eyes closed, and she met him. His body was hard, imprisoning her to him. But his kiss was soft. Mind-numbing.
When her head was good and spinning, he pulled away. He had that little smirk on his face. If she weren’t floating from the kiss, she would have smacked it off his face.
Instead she yanked his T-shirt and pulled him down to her, bringing his mouth to hers once more. But the dynamics changed. He pushed into her mouth. She pushed back. She grabbed his head. He held her shoulders. Push, pull. Attack and retreat. Phoebe felt like she was, for some reason she didn’t understand, fighting for power. And so was he.
And it was all good.
She sucked his tongue into her mouth. Deep. Satisfaction went through her when he stilled. His eyes were closed, and he remained motionless. She was in control. She was the one kissing him.
But then he pushed her back. Panting, she looked at him. His eyes were dark, nearly black. His spiky hair was messy, messy from her hands.
He grabbed her arm and turned. “Come here.”
“What?” She stumbled behind him. “What are you doing?”
“Teaching you a lesson.”
“I don’t want a lesson!” So why was her heart hammering with anticipation? Yes! her body was screaming at her. Give me a lesson!
Why was she allowing any of this to happen? Because no matter how much she told herself she didn’t want him, no matter how much she denied it, the fact was that she was allowing it. Wanting it.
She wasn’t walking out.
Nick dragged her through the kitchen, plucking a whisk off the utensil wall without slowing his pace whatsoever.
A whisk? What was he going to do with that? Turn her into a meringue pie?
He pushed through into the stockroom, pulled her inside, and slammed the door shut. Then he flipped her around so she was facing the door and pushed her up against it. Her chest beat against the wood, so heavy was her breathing.
“Nick?”
“Shhh…,” he whispered in her ear. He pressed up against her back, and she felt the hardness of his body everywhere. Then he pushed aside the mass of hair that had come loose from her braid. His warm lips on her skin. His damp breath as he kissed her earlobe.
Just that. Just that had her leaning into the door, had her eyes drifting closed. And she could smell him, which was only making it worse. Or better. She couldn’t decide.
He had one hand on her shoulder, gripping her. Stilling her. And his mouth…
So simple. Softly, slowly, he was licking behind her ear. She thought he’d never stop. Her body trembled as he continued to kiss her there. Shivers shot through her as her mind emptied. She couldn’t stop the soft moan from escaping her lips.
“That’s right, gorgeous. Let me have you.”
His British accent was heavier than she’d ever heard it. And she hated that calling her gorgeous went straight to her head. And even more, she hated herself for nodding. Let me have you. She didn’t want to give herself away. Not to Nick or anyone.
But, as she felt his hand caressing her back, felt his palm skim her rib cage, her hips and her ass…she couldn’t help but let herself go. Just a little.
And then a little more.
And it felt so good to let go…He took her chin and turned her so the side of her face was resting against the door.
“Such a good girl,” he whispered, and the words affected her. They satisfied her.
So when she felt him tug her skirt down over her hips, she didn’t care. She wanted to be a good girl. Nick’s good girl. When he caressed her butt, she sank deeper into the door because her legs were trembling, and she needed the support. He lifted her arms over her head to pull off her T-shirt. He tossed it aside, and then she was standing in her bra and panties. Still facing away from Nick. Somehow that was fine. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. Feel his hands feathering down her back. Feel his breath on her neck. Feel his fingers as he reached around to press against her moist pussy.
“Wet, aren’t you, babe?”
She was. Her panties were damp. Her sex was giving away her arousal. He reached inside the waistband to slide two fingers into her throbbing flesh. She gasped.
“That’s my girl. So wet for me.”
“Yes…Nick…”
With his fingertips, he rubbed her clit. Little circles with just enough pressure to make her cry out. Such a simple act, what he was doing. Touching such a small part of her body with his hands…but oh my God…the pleasure was shooting through her. She’d never responded to a man this way before, never felt such excitement, such total abandon.
Except for the last time they’d been together. What was it about Nick that made her so excited?
It wasn’t just his hand between her legs. It was the unique fragrance of his body that was intoxicating her. It was the tequila-scented breath on her skin that was sending shivers through her system. It was the tone of his voice, commanding her.
It was him. She wanted to release herself. To him. When they’d been kissing earlier in the kitchen, she’d been fighting for power. But now he’d won. She’d given in to him. She had no idea why, but she wanted him to win.
Just this once.
And the lust pounding through her was taking over everything. Still working her pulsing clit, he increased pressure.
“Nick, yes. Right there!”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Bu
t then he stopped. She hitched a breath when he slid his fingers out of her panties.
“Nick…”
“Don’t move.” He placed his fingers, the ones that had been touching her sex just seconds before, against her lips. “Taste.”
He didn’t give her a choice. He slid his moist fingers against her lips and then into her mouth. She tasted herself on his skin. She sucked on his fingers as he kissed her neck. Her pussy yearned to have him fill her with the erection pressing against her back.
“Such a good girl.” He pulled his fingers out of her mouth.
“Nick. Please.” How had he reduced her to begging? But she was. No choice. All she knew was that she wanted this man fucking her. Hard. Rough.
She wanted him to take her.
But she froze when she felt the hard metal spokes of the whisk that he’d snatched from the kitchen.
Glancing over her shoulder, she was about to ask what he was doing.
But, once again, he turned her away from him. “Shhh,” he repeated. “Be a good girl.”
Did she have a choice? Her entire body was thrumming with lust and desire. Not just sexual, but so much deeper. She needed something more than a fuck. She needed Nick. She needed him to own her. Now that he’d won the battle, she wanted nothing more than to surrender completely.
She was on a precipice. And she wanted to jump. Somehow, somewhere deep inside her core, she knew Nick—the egocentric, irresponsible bad boy—would catch her. The thought was thrilling.
He was running the whisk over her body, gently over her shoulder blades, skimming her side, then across her ass.
“Lovely skin,” he said. “So pale.”
When he flicked her ass with the whisk, she jumped. But the sting was shockingly erotic. It amped up her already buzzing nerves.
“It’s okay, babe. Just feel.”
What he was doing seemed so naughty, so taboo. And she couldn’t help but be a little bit exhilarated by it.
There had always been a part of her, a part she’d restrained, that craved dangerous things. But she’d never allowed herself to go there. She had a family to look out for, two businesses to run, impoverished kids to help. She simply didn’t have the option to indulge her secret fantasies of bungee-diving from a bridge or jumping out of an airplane with nothing but a parachute to keep her body from shattering to a million pieces when she hit the ground.
This felt like that. As if she were indulging herself. She was exposed, under the influence of Nick Avalon, the most dangerous man she’d ever met. And she was allowing him to…
“Damn!” she cried out as he flicked the whisk at her ass once again.
“You okay, sweetheart?” His palm was flat on her back, holding her still.
She nodded. “Yes…”
He kissed her between her shoulder blades. “I know you are, sweetheart.”
Of course he did. He could tap right into this place in her, a place she hadn’t even been aware of. And now, like a chemical, something seemed to be releasing from her brain. Even as her nerves buzzed, something in her was calm. It was a heady combination, and she wanted more of it.
“Again,” she said.
“That’s my girl.”
His words made her legs quiver.
The way he spanked her, just below the line of her bikini underwear, was quick and efficient. Each time she felt the sting—and the sting of the thin metal was sharp—she gasped. But also, each swat intensified everything she was feeling: lust, desire, exhilaration.
Harder and harder. Holding her still, he whipped her ass until she felt as if she were floating. The sounds of her cries, of the metal hitting her flesh, of Nick’s breathing, faded. Her body was going numb all over as the sensations spread through her. She knew he was hitting her more intensely, that she should be screaming from pain. But the pain felt good. Right. She’d never been so relaxed, so out of her head.
Sticking her ass out, she pressed her palms against the door. “Yes, Nick. Harder.” She barely heard her own voice.
“Who knew you were such a naughty little thing, Pheebs?”
“Shut up and keep going.”
She wasn’t sure how many more times he smacked her ass. But he continued, and her mind kept disappearing. Then he whipped her hard, and this time it was much sharper, almost too much. But he knew exactly what she could take. And he paused a moment to allow her to catch her breath.
Her ass burned, but it was a good burn. Everything was good. Too good. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t speak anymore. She slumped against the wall.
“That’s my girl.”
Chapter Nine
The next thing she knew she was in his arms. He crossed the room to sit on a crate of canned organic garbanzo beans. He still held her. His arms were strong and reassuring around her. She didn’t know what was going on, what had happened. Her entire body seemed to be connected to this man. Her heart seemed to be beating just for him. Her brain could only focus on him, and the sudden attachment to him that was threatening to blossom like an apple tree in spring.
Somewhere, she knew it was wrong. She didn’t like him. She knew she didn’t. So why did she want to sink into him? Why did she want to kiss his forehead and run her hands through his spiky hair? Why did she want to climb up, straddle him, and feel his cock inside her? She wanted him buried so deep inside her it hurt to even think about.
He kissed her forehead. “You okay?”
After a minute, she said, “I think so.” Reality was starting to set in. The fog in her brain was beginning to clear. “What just happened?” And why did she feel downright giddy?
She’d never been giddy a moment in her life.
When she looked into his eyes, she saw he actually appeared a bit confused. Interesting. “I whisked you,” he finally said.
She had to grin. “Yeah…you did.”
He shifted beneath her, and she could feel his erection—long and hard and…long.
Okay, there was that lust again.
But it was more. The experience of what he’d just done to her had left her feeling open and vulnerable, and that should have been enough to make her jump off his lap and run away screaming. Allowing herself to feel those things was dangerous.
And it was clear she’d crossed a dangerous line. Nick Avalon was even more perilous than she’d ever imagined. What he’d done to her had been thrilling. Exhilarating. And easily addicting.
And this thing inside her—the way her chest ached from this connection he’d created—was the most dangerous part of all. It gave him power over her. It made her have feelings for him that didn’t include irritation or hatred. Those feelings were things she could deal with, but that other stuff?
No way.
She went to push herself off him, but he stopped her. “Where do you think you’re going?”
It was then she realized she was sitting on his lap in her bra and panties. Panic began to set in. “I need to go! It’s nearly three. The night crew will be arriving any minute!”
Holy crap. What was she thinking? What if they got caught? Again, she tried to stand.
Again, he stopped her, holding her tight in his arms.
“So you think you can just go now because you want to?” He looked genuinely amazed that she would consider such a thing.
She pretended to think about it and then, “Yeah. I do.”
“Not so fast.”
“Nick. Let me go.”
He reached around and grabbed her ass, the place where he’d used the whisk on her. “You liked it.”
She felt her neck start to burn. “Maybe. So?”
“You gave yourself over to me, Miss Mayle.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Yeah? You were begging me for it. Begging me to hit that cute little ass of yours.”
He thought her ass was cute? She shook her head. “I was curious, is all.”
“Kinky is more like it.”
She sucked in a breath. “Kinky! I am not!”
He laughed. “Is that so? Then why did you let me spread chocolate sauce all over your body and lick it off your pussy?”
Her cheeks were burning now. “I was…tired!”
But he was obviously enjoying himself. “And why did you let me take off all your clothes and beat your ass with a kitchen utensil?”
“Stop it.” She started rebraiding her hair. “Just stop it.”
He reached up to cup one of her breasts. She jumped. Her breasts were overly sensitive, and she yearned for him to do more than fondle her. She wanted him to rip off her bra, take her nipple in his teeth and bite—
Bite?
She punched his arm. “Let me go, you brute!”
“Brute? I’m sorry, love.” He mockingly glanced around the storage room. “Did we just travel back in time to Victorian England, and I somehow missed the journey?”
She gritted her teeth. “Just. Let. Me. Go.”
Releasing her, he threw his arms out wide. “Of course, sweetheart. All you had to do was ask.”
She jumped up, crossed the room, and started yanking on her skirt and top. Her ass was starting to sting, and not necessarily in a bad way. She glared at him. “You’re a jerk.”
He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back against the wall. She wanted to punch him. Perched on a crate of beans in a storage room, his hair sticking up in spiky chunks, he still managed to look laid-back and suave. She, on the other hand, knew she was a damn mess. Her kinky hair was half-braided, her skirt was all wrinkly, and damn! She’d just put on her T-shirt, and the tag was poking her in the front of the neck. She pulled her arms inside the shirt to jerk it around. At least she’d noticed before she went into the kitchen with her shirt on backward.
Glaring at him, she placed her hands on her hips. “Damn you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t thank you, Nick.”
“Then clear it up, will you. What exactly did I do wrong?”
She pointed a finger at him. “You—you—you know exactly what you did!”
He gave her a smug smirk. “Took advantage of your helpless female self?”
