That first time was locked in her memory—the way she’d fought him, the fear and rebellion driving her, and the petulance of her capitulation. “I was afraid that first time. Also, I was plotting ways to get you back for spanking me. You came close to getting rubbery eggs for breakfast.”
He snorted. She’d come to understand he didn’t have a discriminating palate. He ate anything.
“Tonight, I’m doing it because I want to serve you. I’m not afraid, and I’m not plotting culinary retribution.”
This time, he laughed. Holding out a hand, he said, “Stand up.”
She put her hand in his, and she noted the strength of his grip. Once she was on her feet, he stepped closer. She inhaled deeply, memorizing his scent and this moment, but her gaze remained downcast.
With infinite gentleness, he brushed his fingertips across her cheek, not stopping until he threaded them between her thick brown locks. Her breath hitched.
“Look at me.”
She lifted her gaze, a slow caress that moved up his neck and over his lips. When her eyes met his, she was floored by the profound level of trust and affection there. Wordlessly, he brushed his lips over hers, grazing so lightly that she swayed forward. She wanted more, but he had a solid grip on her head, so she didn’t gain a millimeter.
The denial elicited a groan from her depths.
Brandy had waited long enough for this. It was more than the turn their association had taken; it was the culmination of years of the absence of affection.
He played for a while, tracing his lips over her cheeks, forehead, and eyelids. With a hand on the back of her neck, he tilted her head back and treated the long column of her throat to the same searing whisper. Brandy felt drugged. Her body relaxed, and her brain stopped demanding action. For once, it slowed down and enjoyed the moment.
By the time he made it back to her lips, she was completely under his spell.
This time he kissed her for real. He massaged his lips against hers before dipping his tongue inside. Need, hot and visceral, raced through her nerve endings and gathered a storm in her core.
She melted into him. Her hands gripped his flannel shirt, and she pressed her body to his. He ravaged her mouth, losing himself in her as much as she lost herself in him.
Too soon, he ended the kiss. His lips massaged along her jaw.
“I want to touch you.”
“Yes,” she sighed.
“Taste you.” He nipped at her earlobe, a sharp sensation to keep her off balance.
“Yes.” She tilted her head the other way to give him access to his new destination.
“Make love to you.”
He found a particularly sensitive spot on her neck below her ear. With a gasp, she dug her fingertips into his solid chest. She moaned and shuddered in his arms.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes to everything. Make me yours, Daddy.”
Ever so carefully, he released his hold. Her legs were liquid, but his hand on her arm kept her from pooling on the floor. In a haze of passionate surrender, she blinked up at him, waiting for him to make the next move.
A knock on the door interrupted the spell he’d cast, and Brandy’s brain went on high alert.
Lukas reacted the exact same way. “I’m not expecting company. Go into the bathroom and lock the door.”
She regarded him with no small amount of exasperation. “Look through the peephole. See who is there. I’m not hiding if I don’t have to.”
He shot her a look that promised a spanking for disobeying his order, but he took her advice anyway. “It’s a hotel employee.” He motioned for her to move back, out of the way in case the hotel employee was packing or something equally insane.
Brandy rolled her eyes, but she moved out of the line of possible fire.
He opened the door, but he didn’t say anything. The hard set of his lips said plenty.
“Hi, Mr. Ross. I have your complimentary wine and fruit basket.”
Though she couldn’t see the person outside the door, she recognized Avery’s perky voice.
Lukas glanced at her, a silent question in the arch of a single eyebrow.
“I didn’t order anything.”
“It’s complimentary, sir. This is the honeymoon suite. It comes with the suite.” Avery pushed past Lukas, forcing him to move to the side or get run over.
She kept going, all the way to the other side of the living room, and she parked the cart near the window overlooking the city lights blurred by blizzard and gossamer curtains. She arranged the wine and glasses, and then she unwrapped the cellophane from the fruit basket.
Then she faced Lukas and Brandy, a polite smile curving her lips. She set a pair of menus on the table. “This is for room service. Our restaurant is booked solid tonight, and with the blizzard, it’s not advisable to leave the hotel. If you need anything, just ring the front desk, and someone will take care of you.”
Lukas glanced at Brandy. “You need anything?”
Brandy let her inner devil loose. “An intimacy kit would be wonderful. The blizzard kind of changed our plans.”
Lukas opened his mouth to say something, but he shut it without commenting. While he was occupied gaping at Brandy, Avery glared. This wasn’t the kind of assignment for which Brandy had prepared. As a psychologist, Avery would be the first one to object to using Brandy as a honeypot.
Brandy had no objections. She had all sorts of reasons why she should sleep with Lukas, crippling desire topping the list.
Lukas rubbed his head. “I guess that’s all.”
“Right away, Mr. and Mrs. Ross.” Avery swept past Brandy, closing the door behind her.
Lukas pursed his lips. “Was it just me, or did she seem to disapprove of your request?”
Brandy waved a hand. “Probably one of those crazy people who are against birth control, Mr. Ross.” She emphasized the name, which didn’t match the one he’d told her earlier.
“Mr. Ross is the big boss. I used his credit card to pay for the room. You’ll meet him soon enough, Firebrand. Be sure to throw some water on your flames before you do.”
He sounded like an asshole, the kind of man who disliked women who didn’t know their place—a misogynist bastard. Still, it served to help her profile the man she was going to take down.
“We’ll have dinner first.” He snagged the menus Avery had left behind. “And talk about expectations.”
“I thought we covered expectations already.”
He sat on the end of the sofa and patted the cushion next to him. “You asked me what kind of Dom I am. We didn’t talk about what would happen tonight.”
Recalling the many discussions she’d overheard between Jordan and his little or Jed and Liam and their sub, Brandy knew better than to protest. It was a good sign that he wanted to have clear communication with her.
She plopped down, propped her feet on the edge of the coffee table, and opened the slim booklet detailing meal options. “What are you in the mood for? Dessert is my pussy, so pick something that pairs well with it.”
He chuckled. “Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m leaning toward the seafood platter.”
She closed the menu. “I’ll get a salad too. You never eat enough greens.” She parked herself on his lap to reach the room phone and place the order. He didn’t stop her. If anything, he seemed amused by the way she took over.
When she finished ordering, she wiggled her ass. “Wanna get frisky while we wait?”
He slid his hands along her hips.
“My, Daddy, what big hands you have.”
“The better to pick you up with.” He lifted her and dropped her on the sofa next to him. Before she could change seduction tactics, he grasped her knees and pulled them toward him, forcing her to swivel so her calves and feet were on his lap.
She propped her arms behind her to keep from falling over.
He tossed a throw pillow to the other end of the sofa. “Lay down, Firebrand.”
When she did as he ordered, he removed her s
hoes. Tennis shoes. Very un-sexy. White socks with a blue stripe around the top. Those came off as well.
He pressed a thumb into her instep, and she groaned.
“I’ve wanted you in this position for a long time.”
Her eyelids had drifted closed, and now they flew open. “You’ve been holding back on giving me a foot massage? After one of those runs of yours, I would have welcomed a foot rub.”
He dragged a hand up her calf. “Take off your pants and underwear.”
Anything to get him closer to the main event. She lifted her hips and peeled out of the requested items.
He resumed massaging her feet. “Lift your shirt up to your waist.”
She did that as well, but when she tried to spread her legs, he pressed an arm above her knees.
“Not yet. Just lay there while I touch you.”
“And look at me.” Her pussy moistened in anticipation.
“Yes.” He massaged his way up one of her calves. She relaxed under his ministration and tiny moans fell from her lips every now and again. “You know, you moan just like that in your sleep.”
“I must have been dreaming about you giving me a foot rub. You have fantastic hands. Big. Strong. Sensual.”
He chuckled at her effort to move things along. “I like seeing this side of you. You showed me glimpses before. I like seeing the real you, Brandy.”
Everything he did was sensual, including the way his lips closed around the letters of her name. She liked hearing her name in his strong tones, and she considered that her slip-up might have been due to a subconscious desire.
To pull her mind away from weighty issues, she smirked. “There’s more to see when my legs are spread.”
With the barest lift of a brow to acknowledge her teasing, he set the foot he’d finished with on the sofa, which had the effect of lifting her knee and showing a glimpse of her glistening pink folds. “I meant the little part of yourself. The bratty teen living inside your head.”
He was right—she did have a snarky teen living inside her head. Being in charge of other agents meant she couldn’t indulge her immature side—ever. She sighed. “With you, I feel like I can be totally myself.”
“You can.” His hands moved over muscles she hadn’t known were so sore. “Last time we were together like this, you said you never touched yourself in the shower. Was that the truth?”
“It was. The shower was too small. The idea of touching the walls grosses me out. It’s not sexy at all. Sometimes when you were gone and I slept in your bed, I’d inhale your scent from the pillow and the covers, and I’d touch myself.”
He indicated her pussy. “Show me.”
The hand resting on her abdomen crept lower. One finger dipped into her wetness, spreading it in small circles. “Daddy, when you masturbated in the shower and you weren’t thinking about Kerry Washington, what image of me did you have in your head?”
“You, on your knees.” He focused on a knot in her lower calf. “The time I came back one morning and you were in my bed, wearing my shirt. The collar was too wide, and it exposed your shoulder. That’s why I never bought you any pajamas of your own.”
She played her clit harder, chasing her goal.
“Lighten your pressure. No coming yet. This show is for me, to tantalize me.”
She lifted her hand away from her pussy and put a wet finger into her mouth. She sucked on it for a moment, and then she let it go with a pop. “They sent Merlot. I think this pairs well with it.” She dipped her finger into her wetness again, and then she held it out to him. “Want a taste?”
Instead of answering, he wrenched her knees wider apart and leaned down, kneeling on the floor for better access. His mouth was on her pussy in a hot minute, licking and sucking like he’d been in a desert for weeks. Heat and pressure seared her tissues, feeling even better than her finger had. He slurped and bit, holding her hips still when she tried to grind against his face. She was so close.
“OhmyfuckingLukas,” she cried out. “Holy shit, you have a magic mouth.”
He added a finger, fucking it into her hole, and her whole body arched off the couch. She came in his mouth, a flood of moisture soaking his cheeks and chin.
He arranged her legs on the sofa, and then he fixed her shirt and tossed her sweats to her. “Put these on.”
“You’re finished with me?”
“I’m expecting room service.” He got to his feet. “And an intimacy kit.”
She sat up and slid into her sweats. Avery was going to shoot disapproving looks at her no matter what. She did not need her friend and fellow agent coming upon her in flagrante delicto.
A knock at the door confirmed his good timing, and he shot her a cocky grin. “Here’s an official warning, Firebrand. The next time you come without permission, I will spank your luscious, bare ass.”
Chapter 9
They conversed during dinner, much the same way they had at Redemption Center. Topics centered on the food served and favorite foods from other meals. He slipped in occasional caveats about his sexual predilections every now and again.
“I’m going to take your virginity tonight.”
He’d caught her off-guard, which she realized he liked doing. Though she had a team nearby ready to take Lukas down if necessary, right now, he had the authority and control. Brandy really liked how that felt, and she loved how he kept her off balance.
She paused with a chunk of crab meat halfway to her mouth. “You’re a couple decades too late for that.”
He chuckled. “And yet, I can see you playing the part of the innocent virgin quite easily.”
“Do you also like horny, knowledgeable women?” Yep—if there was a boundary, Brandy was going to push it.
“Yes, but that’s for later, after I deflower you.”
“I guess that’s what you heard when I said you should woo me.”
“Think of it as playing a role.”
“The role of a bratty, teenaged virgin about to lose her innocence to a virile Daddy?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up, lending him a rakish air. “Yes.”
“When I lost my virginity, it was with great enthusiasm.” Her boyfriend had been a virgin as well, and they’d fumbled through the experience with a sense of humor and more than a couple jokes.
“I like enthusiasm, Firebrand. I don’t want you to pretend to be someone else. Be yourself.”
“But also pretend I’ve never had sex?”
“You’ve never had sex with me, and so you might as well be a virgin.”
“Okay, but don’t get all grumpy when you’re the one asking for it. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She sipped wine and thought about ways to get him away from the food—delicious though it was—and to the bed. Whether her first time or now, Brandy on a mission was a woman determined to get what she wanted.
First she lost her sweats and panties again. Then she went over to the television, inspecting the options on a card next to it. The shirt was long enough to cover half of her ass. “I’m trying to appeal to your baser instincts.”
He sat back and finished off his single glass of wine. “You do.”
She turned the television on.
“What are you doing?”
A couple clicks on the remote, and soft music filled the air. She spread her hands wide and smiled proudly. “Mood music.”
He got to his feet, an elegant, graceful move that set her heart aflutter. She felt like a teenager with her first crush—and he liked her back.
Setting a hand on her hip, he took her other hand in his large mitt. “Let’s dance.”
His moves were somewhat advanced for a guy. She grinned up at him. “You’ve got rhythm.”
“Yes.” A sly smile curved his sensual lips. “My father put me in ballet classes so I’d be a better football player, just like his idols. I can’t remember the last time I danced.”
Before she could respond, he pulled her closer, and as the song crescendoed, his lips claimed hers.
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Brandy’s heart beat faster, anticipation mixed with nerves. In the past few years, work had consumed so much of her that she hadn’t bothered to attempt dating. In his arms, she felt like a virgin. Nobody had ever made her feel the things he made her feel, so being a virgin with him just felt right. She trusted that his deflowering of her would be magical and memorable.
He kept dancing as he kissed her, his skillful steps leading her in a box pattern with some kind of flair. As an avowed tomboy, Brandy had never learned to do more than sway back and forth to the music. She wound her arms around his neck as well as she could and lost herself in the bliss of his heady kisses. Her feet followed his lead without her head having to think about it.
The next thing she knew, he stopped moving. She opened her eyes to find herself at the foot of the massive bed in the next room.
He gazed deep into her eyes. “I’m going to make love to you, Brittany Sorrell, my Firebrand. Do you remember your safeword?”
The unexpected question—and his use of her cover name—screeched through the flood of desire drugging her system like a needle scratching a record. Her mouth opened to give an answer, but her brain didn’t cooperate.
“Your safeword, Firebrand. What is it?”
“Macaroni and peas. But if you’re going to make love to me, why would I need a safeword?”
“You may not.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “But it’s important that you remember you have it. If you need me to stop at any time, use your safeword. Promise.”
“I will.”
He lifted her shirt over her head. Because she’d shed her bottoms already, she wore only a white sports bra. However, he looked at her as if he saw something far sexier than her flattened boobs. She stood still as his gaze roamed her body as tangible and potent as if his fingertips were tracing that path.
“You are so lovely.” He took her hand in his, but he didn’t keep it for long. His palm glided up her arm and across her collarbone. When his thumb rested on the pulse point on the side of her neck and his fingers stretched to the other side, he stopped. “Tonight, you belong to me.”
“Yes, Daddy. I’m yours.”
He touched her neck and shoulders, her arms and sides. His fingertips traveled from her ribs to her thighs. He moved, circling her body, and his touch went with him. Now he explored her backside, and his hand closed over half of her ass.
Re/Deemed (Doms of the FBI Book 8) Page 10
