She froze. “Are you implying I’m doing it wrong?” So much for being a femme fatal. Embarrassment began to sweep through her. She tried to pull her hands free.
His grip on them tightened. “No. Not at all. Sorry, my ability to speak goes to shit around you.” He expelled a harsh breath. “You matter to me more than anyone has in a long time. I don’t know how that’s supposed to change things. I don’t want you to think I’m only here because—”
She put a hand over his lips. “I don’t. We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? I make you stop and think and you make me want to be impulsive.”
After a brief silence, he muttered, “I’m fucking this up.”
She shifted closer and wrapped her arms around him. “No, you’re convincing me that my instincts about you are right. You’re a good man, Bradford. I know you’ve done some things you believe are unforgivable, but I don’t see any of that when I look at you. All I see is a man who cares more about the welfare of others than himself.”
He laid his head against the side of hers and breathed her in. “How impulsive?”
“That’s all you got out of what I said?” She smiled against his rock-hard chest. Without waiting for a response, she said, “If I were a stronger woman or you were a smaller man, I’d toss you over my shoulder and haul you off to my bed.”
He chuckled. “That’s quite an image, but I prefer to do the carrying.” He bent and lifted her in his arms. “I told myself I’d take it slow with you.” He opened the door, carried her inside, then kicked the door closed behind him. “If I walk to your bedroom, really slowly, does that count?”
She laughed from the pleasure of being carried, the fun of discovering Bradford had a sense of humor beneath his growl, and the excitement of being with a man who made her feel young and reckless. “I’ll check the rulebook, but I think it does.”
He kissed her and all joking fell to the wayside. There was only him, his mouth teasing hers to open, and a need to strip away the clothing separating them. They didn’t make it far into her house before he must have felt the same way because he lowered her to her feet. He broke off the kiss just long enough to pull her T-shirt up and over her head.
The desire in his eyes when he took in the top of her sheer black bodysuit was all she could have hoped for. She’d never felt sexier nor wanted a man more. He didn’t have to tell her how beautiful he found her, it was right there in his smile as he traced her curves through the thin material.
He stripped her down to just the bodysuit. His heated gaze told her more than any man ever had with words. This was real. It was primal and undeniable.
When she reached for his shirt, he stilled her hands and said, “I want to enjoy you first.”
Joanna doubted there was a woman who would have denied his request. He turned her before him, kissing his way along each part of her as he went. His hands were everywhere—strong and confident. When he slid the bodysuit straps over her shoulders and down her arms she was too turned on to be embarrassed by being fully undressed before a man who was still in his clothing. As he dropped the bodysuit to the floor, he said, “Beautiful, but this is better.”
Well now I know where I can save money. I could have worn my grannie panties and I doubt he would have noticed.
He took a moment to look her over again and liked what he saw if the huge bulge in the front of his jeans was anything to go by. He slid a hand down her stomach and dipped a finger between her folds. There was no fumbling, no question he knew how to bring a woman pleasure. He gently began to move a finger back and forth over her clit while bending to kiss her breasts.
She spread her legs wider for him and was rewarded by one of his fingers sliding inside. She reached for his belt, but he shifted his hips away and murmured, “Look at me. When you come I want to see it in your eyes.”
His commands were followed by his teeth gently grazing over her nipples. He plunged a second finger in her, somehow continuing the back and forth motion over her clit. Her body felt like an instrument he was playing with rare talent. Nothing was rushed. The rhythm he created with his hand became one that echoed through her.
In and out.
Back and forth.
Even his kisses came with precision. He had a method to his madness and it was a delicious assault. One breast then the other. Her neck. Her shoulders. The place right behind her ear she hadn’t known would drive her crazy.
In and out faster.
Back and forth harder.
A nip that didn’t hurt.
He withdrew his hand and carried her into her living room and sat her on the thick back of her couch. She was afraid she might fall off, but he was down on his knees in front of her, pulling her forward so her legs draped over his shoulders and her ass was supported by his hands while her back remained on the couch. The position stretched her sex wide before his mouth.
His breath was its own caress.
Then his tongue.
Oh, God, that tongue.
He ran it between her folds, before using one hand to open her more. He teased her with the tip of his tongue, drove his tongue deeper inside her than she would have thought possible, then returned to flick her clit with a speed that drove her wild.
He moved his hand so he could insert a finger inside her while still working magic with his tongue. She shifted and slipped, no longer holding herself up—she was at his mercy. She let go of the fear of where she was, let herself trust that he’d take care of her, and gave herself over to the pleasure building within her.
Her head fell back and she closed her eyes as she approached what was promised to be an amazing orgasm. He withdrew and her eyes flew open. She adjusted her position so she was once again steady and watched him undo his belt, unzip the front of his jeans and release a mouth-watering cock. He held her gaze while he sheathed himself in a condom.
She’d never had sex with someone who was still dressed but there was something incredibly hot about it. He was taking her on his terms.
He picked her up, this time wrapping her legs around his waist. Their kiss was deep, hot. She clung to his shoulders and cried out with pleasure when his first thrust was deep and sure. So big. So hard. He made no excuses nor accommodations for his size. She stretched wide to accept him and loved when his second thrust was just as powerful and deep. “Oh, yes,” she whispered against his lips.
He used the back of the couch for leverage and pounded into her, each time harder, faster, deeper. Their kiss was a wonderfully feverish claiming as well. When she closed her eyes, he growled for her to open them, like she was his to command.
And she was.
She’d never been with a man of his size and strength. It was exciting in an out-of-control way. His touch became rough—hers did as well. She couldn’t get enough of him, give him enough of herself.
When she came she was looking into his eyes, calling out his name, clenching her sex tightly around his shaft. His face tightened and with a few final deep thrusts, he came as well.
She collapsed against his still-clothed chest and he held her there for several long moments before withdrawing from her and easing her back to her feet. He cleaned himself off, disposed of the condom, and was back with her while she was still enjoying her post-orgasm bliss.
When he joined her, she stepped into his arms. Shifting her hips back and forth so her sex grazed the growing bulge in his jeans, she sighed. “That was amazing.”
“It was.”
She ran her other hand down his neck and over the buttons of his shirt. “I’m up for another round if you are.” She cupped his hardening cock through his jeans. “But this time lose the clothes.”
He tensed against her.
Her hands stilled. “What’s wrong?”
Nothing should be wrong. That’s what Bradford told himself. He’d just fucked the most incredible woman he’d ever met and she was eager for more. He should be stripping off his clothing without hesitation.
He wasn’t a vain man, but he didn’t want
her to see him yet. It wasn’t like he normally kept his clothes on when he fucked someone, but Joanna was different. The women he was usually with thought his scars were cool. A lot of women liked to fuck men they considered dangerous and his scars added to their fantasy.
Joanna would ask questions he didn’t want to answer. Rather than be impressed, she’d understand that each one had cost him something—broken him a little more. The last thing he wanted to see in her eyes was pity.
He let his hands fall away from her and stepped back. She moved closer and put a hand on his chest. “Take me with you,” she said.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said in a harsh tone.
With her other hand she touched his temple. “Up here. Whatever you’re thinking, share it with me.”
He took her hand in his, brought it to his mouth, and kissed it. Had she gotten defensive he would have pulled farther away. “Why do you have to be so damned understanding?”
She didn’t seem bothered by his question. Instead she traced his jaw with her free hand. “You shouldn’t have sex with someone you don’t trust.”
He frowned. “I trust you.” Well, as much as he trusted anyone.
“Then don’t shut me out. Are you self-conscious?”
“No.”
“Infectious?”
He laughed without humor and said, “Definitely not.”
“Then what is it? I’m standing here buck naked and ten pounds overweight, and I’m not worried about it. Do you have a thing where you can only have sex while dressed?”
“No.” He stepped back and rubbed his hands over his face. “But this is different.”
“Bradford?”
“Yes?”
“Just fucking tell me. It can’t be as bad as all the things I’m thinking.”
A smile pulled at one side of his mouth. “Since when do you swear?”
When she put her hands on her hips, an action that bounced both of her breasts, he almost forgot what the problem was. “I swear, just not much. You, however, are bringing it out in me right now. And you’re killing my post-orgasm buzz.”
He came to a decision then. “I don’t want to do that.”
She ran her hands up his chest. “No, you don’t. So, speak. Most things seem worse in our heads than they are when we say them aloud.”
He loved the feel of her. From the delicate back of her neck to the roundness of her ass—she was perfection. “You may be right.”
Her eyes lit up. “Those are my favorite words.”
He chuckled then sobered. “I don’t want to hear what I know you’ll say, but I don’t want to hurt your feelings by telling you to keep it to yourself.”
“Okay. I need a moment to unpack that, but I think I understand what you’re saying. I would never intentionally say anything to hurt your feelings, Bradford.”
“This isn’t about hurting my feelings.” He began to unbutton his shirt. “Don’t even say anything with your eyes.”
“Got it. Even my eyes will be silent.”
He dropped his shirt to the floor. To give her credit her expression remained the same even as she took in the scars on his chest. When he turned so she could see his back, though, she gasped.
“Oh, my God, Bradford.” There it was—the pained sympathy for him. He didn’t want it. The scars from the chain beating he’d received in his teens only caused him pain when he remembered the circumstances surrounding them. To him, they represented a failure he’d never quite been able to reconcile.
He picked up his shirt and slid his arms back into it. “Don’t ask about them.”
She hugged him close, skin to skin, with all the open affection she’d shown him earlier that day. “I won’t.”
He stood there, stiff as a board in her embrace, until he once again drove back the memories of his sister and the people who had taken everything from him. Killing them hadn’t brought him the peace he’d hoped it would.
The tighter she held him, the worse he felt. He could live with the weight of the past, but he couldn’t endure a moment of hurting her. Was she already regretting having sex with him?
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She raised her head. “Don’t be. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I wish that were true.” He settled her against his chest, tucking her beneath his chin. He thought about her grandfather. He’d wanted to protect his wife from his darker side and what had that brought them? “If I tell you a story it’s not because I want your sympathy. In fact, that’s the last thing I want. But you deserve to know the truth about me and why I am the way I am.”
“Okay,” she murmured against his chest.
He went back to the beginning, although he’d already told her about his parents. She needed context for his actions. He told her about how losing his parents had separated him from his sister. He outlined the series of choices she’d made that put her at the mercy of the same gang that had killed their parents. Without emotion he described his first attempt to rescue her and the warning beating he’d received. His voice deepened as he shared how he’d gone back, even more determined that he could save his sister, only to fail again. The beating that had left him with a severely scarred back, a disfigured face, and a bullet that was still lodged somewhere within him. “They left me for dead because I should have been dead. No one survives what they did to me, but I did. For a long time I was angry about that. Why keep me here when everything I cared about was gone? My foster father encouraged me to join the Army and I did, but I was an empty shell—until I saw a news clip about one of the gang members who’d pimped out my sister. He was still alive and still pimping women out. I knew then that I’d been spared for a purpose. I killed him, Joanna. I killed every last one of the men who hurt my sister. Then I went on to find other people who were hurting the vulnerable, and I killed them too.”
She shuddered against him. “That sounds like a lot of people.”
“It was.”
“Are you ever afraid of being caught?”
He shook his head. “By now what I’ve done isn’t exactly a secret—not to those who watch everything everyone does. I’ve been a necessary evil though. And I have some powerful friends.”
“You and Ian.”
“Yes. Like I’ve said before, I’m the one the government calls when something can’t be handled via normal channels. I’m too useful to too many important people to ever be held accountable for how it started.”
“And when you’re no longer useful to them?”
“I have enough dirt on almost everyone that only a fool would come for me.”
She tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “Do you have dirt on me?”
He decided to lighten the mood. “Yep. You talk too much during sex.”
Her eyes widened. “What? I barely said a word.”
He mimicked a mouth with his hand, opening and closing it. “We could already be having sex for a second time, but there you go—still yip-yapping.”
“Oh, really? Well here is something for your research. I’m also a gifted pincher.” She twisted a small bit of skin on his side.
He laughed and caught her hand. “Stop that. It tickles.”
“So, you’re ticklish? There you go, just handing me an advantage I wasn’t even looking for.” She gave his sides a playful tweak.
He laughed more and twisted to avoid her fingers. “Okay. Okay. Stop.”
She kept her fingers poised. “I will if you promise me something.”
Still laughing, he said, “Sure. Whatever.”
“When I’m naked, you’re naked.”
He studied her expression, looked deeply into her eyes, and didn’t see the pity he’d been afraid to see. Instead he saw humor, desire, and confidence.
The plaid shirt hit the floor again. His boots, pants, boxers, and socks followed. He removed his calf gun holster and put it, as well as the gun, on the table.
“Hang on, you were wearing a gun while we had sex?”
He used h
is hand to mimic a mouth talking again and she pretended to tickle him again. Humor was replaced by heat when one of her hands circled his cock while her other hand cupped his balls. “Joanna.”
Her hands stilled. “Yes?”
He ran a hand through her hair and imagined her mouth replacing her hands. He didn’t believe in telepathy, but he didn’t not believe in it either when she sank to her knees and those beautiful lips of hers wrapped around his cock. His hand fisted in her hair as her tongue circled his tip. He urged her to take him deeper. She didn’t. She withdrew slightly and kissed the tip of his dick, then licked the underside from base to tip. Her tongue flicked back and forth just below the head of his cock before she took him into her mouth again, slowly this time. Her breath had him throbbing with anticipation, ready to beg her to take him deeper.
Her mouth alone would have been enough, but her fingers were working their own magic. She massaged his balls as her thumb caressed circles behind them, making him wonder, while also not wanting to know, where the hell she learned to do that. It was fucking incredible.
She took her time, pausing to kiss his thighs, his stomach, then lick her way up and down his shaft before taking it back into her mouth again. Slowly, skillfully, she brought him to the edge of an orgasm and stopped.
She rose to her feet, turned around, and bent over the arm of the couch. He sheathed himself then kissed his way up and down her back. He lightly kicked her legs farther apart and took his time kissing his way down that beautiful ass of hers right back up to her neck.
He slowly slid inside her, making sure she was ready for him, and held her hips to control their rhythm. He moved in and out, teasing her as she had him. Her sex was wet and ready but he wanted more for her so he reached around and laved her clit while he kept his thrusts slow and easy.
Releasing her hips, he sought out her gorgeous tits and gently pinched their excited nubs between his thumb and finger. She begged him not to stop so he didn’t.
He explored her body, seeking out what drove her most wild, all the while keeping his thrusts deep and slow. When her breathing became quicker and she began to moan and writhe against his hand he brought his hands back to her hips and began to pound into her.
Reluctantly Rescued (The Barrington Billionaires, Book 9) Page 14
