Satisfaction

by Lexi Blake

  It could wait. His fantasy couldn’t.

  “You need to tell me if you don’t like something.” He leaned over and pushed her now-wet hair to one side before kissing the back of her neck. Such a soft, vulnerable spot. He let his tongue play there for a moment.

  “I will. I swear I will. I wouldn’t have told you I would ever like that, but I did. It hurt, but then it made me hot. Do you want me to turn around so I can kiss you, too?”

  He liked her like this. On her knees, her body open to him. He let his hands run down to her breasts, cupping them. He gently bit her neck, just a nip. “You don’t move until I move you. You said you didn’t want to be treated like a porcelain doll. How about my sex toy? My pretty little sex toy. This is all for me and I can do anything I want with you. I ordered you. They asked what I wanted and I said I wanted breasts that fit my hand, pretty pink nipples I can twist and play with.”

  Her chest moved against his hands as though she couldn’t quite help herself. Her backside moved, too. A subtle arch of her back, but it brought her ass into contact with his cock. She liked the dirty stuff.

  He could give her more. So much more. His sweet homemaker needed some dirty talk to get her hot and ready? He could do that all day long. It was easy because she inspired him to think some really filthy thoughts.

  “I would have told them to make my toy sweet and sassy and smart.” He licked the back of her neck, running his tongue down her spine. “I would have told them to make her skin taste like sunshine and to give her curves I could hold on to when I sink my dick deep inside her.”

  With his hands on her, his body pressed to hers, he could feel her reactions. Every dirty word he whispered to her seemed to send her heart racing, her body squirming slightly against his as though begging him to do what he was promising.

  “I would be specific about what I needed from my own personal sex toy.” He moved down again, his hands finding her hips as he placed a kiss on the small of her back. “I would need her to have beautiful brown and red and gold hair and lovely skin. She would have to be strong enough to stand up to my family and sweet enough to know when to stand beside me. Did I thank you for that, by the way? Don’t move your hands or I’ll stop what I’m doing.”

  What he was doing was inching his right hand toward her clitoris. She stopped and seemed to hold her breath for a moment.

  “I won’t move.”

  That’s what he wanted to hear. He wanted that whine in her voice that begged for him to continue on. He was grateful for whoever had decided they needed a shower built for like ten people because it gave him plenty of room to move. He slid back up, his left hand on her breast, his right so close to her clitoris. His cock nestled against the cheeks of her ass. He pumped his hips slightly, enjoying the skin-to-skin contact.

  “I would make sure my sex toy loved my attention because she would get a whole lot of it.” He slid the pad of his middle finger over her clit. It was wet and ripe and all he’d had to do was touch her a little, give her some dirty talk. She responded to him so quickly. “Do you like my attention, Carly?”

  She whimpered. “Yes. Please, Bran. It’s so hard to stay still.”

  “But you’ll do it for me. Won’t you?” He licked the shell of her ear, palming her breast with his free hand.

  She nodded her head, the rest of her body still beneath him. “Yes.”

  “Why are you so wet? Is this from the shower?” He slid his finger over her again, sliding through her arousal. This time he pressed in, giving her a bit more pressure.

  She gasped but managed to stay still. “No. It’s not from the water. It’s because of you.”

  “Me? This is for me?” He circled her again and again. Her pussy was soaking wet, her arousal coating his hand.

  “Yes. All for you.”

  “What do you want me to do with this?” He let his thumb rub her clit while his middle finger dipped into her pussy. So much sweet juice there and it was all his.

  “Anything you want.”

  “What would you say if I wanted to lick it? Would you let me taste you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you spread your legs right here and now and let me put my mouth on you? I should warn you, my tongue would be all over this sweet flesh. There wouldn’t be a single spot I wouldn’t lick and suck.”

  She gasped before she managed to get her answer out. “I would spread my legs.”

  “Would you let me spear my tongue as deep as it can go before I settled in and suckled that pearl of a clit? I’ll suck hard and you’ll come all over my mouth and I’ll love it. And then do you know what I’ll do to you?”

  “Please fuck me, Bran. I can’t stand it. I want you to fuck me. Hard and long. Any way you want it.”

  He pinched her clit lightly, forcing her attention to him. “Not it. I don’t want it. I want you. I want to fuck you, Carly Fisher. You need to understand that I might be playing a game, but the only woman I see is you. So tell me again.”

  “Any way you want me,” she said. “I want you, Bran. I want your cock and your lips and tongue. Only yours.”

  That was what he wanted to hear. “Up on the bench. Put your heels up, legs spread. I want access.”

  She twisted, moving as fast as she could. He helped her up. She wasn’t thinking about anything but the pleasure he could give her.

  Neither was he. It struck him that everything else fell away when he was with her. He wasn’t thinking or planning or doing anything but concentrating on the time with her. All the reasons he couldn’t stay with her fell away and he wanted nothing more than to make the moment last. Maybe that was his true fantasy, that he wouldn’t have to leave her, wouldn’t need to be a better man. Here he could be enough for her. Here he deserved her.

  This bench was the perfect height. There was zero chance he was the first person who had fucked a lover in this shower. Apparently the married couple who vacationed here kept things hot. He silently thanked Alex McKay for being around the same height. On his knees he was in the perfect position to do all the things he’d told her he would.

  She was so beautiful. He was certain she felt awkward with her legs spread but she’d never looked more gorgeous to him. She was a passionate woman making no excuses for what she wanted. And she wanted him.

  “My toy is the single sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. She’s perfectly made for me,” he said. “You’re perfect for me, Carly.”

  Even if they were playing, he didn’t ever want her to forget that.

  “You bring out things in me I never thought existed. I’m not this woman, Bran. Not for anyone but you. And I swear I’ll scream soon if you don’t touch me again.”

  He would have to teach her later that he liked to look at her. He would stare at her for hours if she would allow him to. She was a fucking work of art. But he was in agreement with her. He couldn’t wait to touch her again, to taste her again.

  Her pussy was perfect and creamy, the jewel of her clit primed and ready.

  “I do believe I promised I would taste you again. I have to say that if your skin tastes like sunshine, then your pussy is pure sin.” He ran his tongue over her, reveling in the way she tasted, how good her arousal smelled.

  A possessive instinct like nothing he’d ever felt before raced through him. He licked her, spearing his tongue deep so he wouldn’t miss a drop. She was his. She fucking belonged to him. She never responded this way to another man because she belonged to him. Her husband hadn’t been able to make her scream because she’d needed Bran.

  He spread her labia gently, his tongue fucking her in a blatant imitation of what he would do with his cock. Soon. He would fuck her every way a man could fuck his woman. He wanted her in every single way he could have her so there wasn’t an inch of her without his mark.

  He replaced his tongue with his fingers, sending two deep inside her pussy. He looked up
and caught her eyes looking down. She watched him, her pupils dark and wide with hot desire.

  “Please.”

  He leaned over and sucked her clit as he curled his fingers deep inside her.

  Her shout echoed through the room and sent his heart pounding.

  He licked and sucked until she stilled. His cock pulsed. It was his time. It was fucking his time and he wanted it. He wanted that orgasm more than he wanted the knowledge that he’d made her happy. He wanted to be inside her, to know she opened herself and submitted her body to him.

  “Hands and knees. Right now.” The words ground out of him as he reached for the condom he’d stashed before they’d started playing.

  He wanted to play with her forever. This was the right woman.

  Was it the right time?

  He shoved the thought aside as she didn’t miss a beat. Her face was flushed as she slid down and got to her hands and knees before him. She offered herself with no questions. She went down in front of him and made herself vulnerable.

  It was the best high he’d ever had, and in his fucked-up youth he’d tried them all.

  He stroked himself though he didn’t really need to. He was hard as a rock. He rolled the condom on and tossed the wrapper aside. He moved in behind her. He liked the rough feel of the tile on his knees. It contrasted with how soft her skin was beneath his hands and how damn hot her flesh was when he pressed up and shoved his cock against her pussy.

  Soft and warm and wet. He gripped her hips and pressed in. Tight. Her pussy clenched around him. This was what he needed. He needed her tight and drenched and clenched around him. He forced his dick in, loving the way she pressed back against him.

  “Do that again, baby. You can move all you like now.” He wanted her passion, her heat. The play was done and he was ready to get down to the real pleasure of the day.

  He thrust into her, giving up any thought of being gentle. He didn’t need to be now. She was wet and open and he could do whatever he wanted with her. She would have nothing but pleasure from the encounter.

  Over and over he thrust in and pulled out as she pumped back against him. He loved the fact that she fought for her pleasure. She didn’t hold back. She moved, groans filling the small space until his whole world seemed to consist of nothing but the sounds and sights of his Carly.

  His.

  He reached around and found the button of her clitoris again. This time she would last longer since he’d made her come all over his tongue before. He could still taste her, and the sweet tang made him swell inside. He gave over to the beast that always seemed so close to the surface. He pounded inside her.

  She came again, the muscles of her pussy clenching around him and sending him over the edge.

  He held her tight as he came down from the high. Held her tight and thought about never letting her go again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Three hours later Bran wished he was back at Carly’s townhouse instead of sitting here in the far too elegant room of Patricia Cain’s house. It was in a nice part of St. Augustine with a lovely view of the bay and the historic lighthouse in the distance. The entire room was done in shades of white and the furniture was some form of tiny. He was sure Carly would call it delicate, but it seemed fragile to Bran. He wasn’t certain the chair he was sitting in wouldn’t disintegrate at some point.

  Taggart shifted in the seat he’d been shown to. He looked like a hulking beast perched on a teeny tiny throne. “Is there a reason we moved the meeting from your office?”

  Patricia nodded to the servant who’d brought tea on a silver platter. She set it down on the table and silently began to pour. “I thought this was a much more civilized place to meet, Mr. Taggart. The office is less personal, and I find security to be a very personal thing indeed. How do you like your tea?”

  “With a healthy splash of Scotch, and by healthy I mean skip the tea and bring a Scotch or a beer. Seriously, I don’t drink tea, and this show of wealth, while impressive, doesn’t answer my question,” Taggart replied.

  Case’s brother was the single coolest human being Bran had met. He’d patiently, albeit with a level of sarcasm Bran hadn’t known existed, described how they would work with Cain today. Taggart had explained that they wouldn’t go in looking to kiss Cain’s ass. They would go in expecting her to explain why they should work for her.

  Bran really liked that plan.

  Taggart had seemed slightly surprised at the change of plans when they’d been redirected to Cain’s house, but he’d said their own intentions didn’t change.

  Patricia lowered herself to the settee. She wore a casually elegant pantsuit, her hair back. If it weren’t for the pinched expression on her face, she might have been somewhat attractive. Though Bran knew he was a bit prejudiced because of the whole murderer thing.

  “Is this the way you treat your clients, Mr. Taggart?”

  And now it was Bran’s turn. He was the good cop. He rather envied Big Tag’s role. “I’m sorry. My boss can be a bit harsh at times. It’s a leftover from years in Special Ops. He’s also not good with niceties, but then, you have to ask yourself if you want a security team led by a man who knows security or who plays the social game well.”

  “I can’t have both?” She turned her attention back to Bran.

  “Not if you want to deal with Ian Taggart,” Bran replied. “I will take some tea. Two sugars, please. Unless you’re going to ask us to leave.”

  “She’s not going to ask us to leave, Brandon. She’s got bigger issues than she’s willing to talk about,” Taggart said with a sigh.

  Cain frowned, crossing one long leg over the other as she sat back. “And what issues are those? You seem to be completely in control of the situation. What have you learned about me?”

  “Tell her what we’ve learned, Brandon,” Taggart said with a smirk on his face.

  He was good at playing the arrogant asshole. It was a way to ensure that Bran was the one who would be “handling” Patricia Cain. “The gas leak wasn’t an accident.”

  Her eyes flared slightly. “The fire department hasn’t released their report yet.”

  “They haven’t released it to the public, but there are ways around their protocols.” He reached into his briefcase and handed her the manila folder containing the report the fire department would almost certainly send her in a week or so when they’d crossed all their t’s.

  He couldn’t help but notice that her hands trembled slightly as she took the folder. She drew the reading glasses that were held by a chain around her neck and perched them on the end of her nose.

  “Your tea, sir.” The middle-aged woman in a black-and-white uniform held out the china cup and saucer. She turned to Taggart, her lips quirking up slightly as she took him in. “Would you like your Scotch on the rocks or neat?”

  “I like my Scotch able to drink itself and don’t let any ice near it.” Taggart smiled and winked at the woman, who blushed.

  “I wouldn’t think of it, sir.” There was a spring to her step as she walked out.

  Cain set the file down. “They believe this was deliberate, but they don’t talk about a motive. Shouldn’t you be looking into the gallery owner? Perhaps he has debts and was seeking to pay them off with the insurance he would receive.”

  Taggart stared at her, his demeanor as icy with Cain as it was warm with the servant. “Naturally I looked into everyone who could have gained from the crime. Money is the first motive I take into account, but given that the gallery owner was standing not more than ten feet away from the scene, I sincerely doubt that insurance was the motive. Unless he was going to cash that check from the grave.”

  “What my boss is trying to say is we believe there was a specific target. We don’t think there was any reason to believe the intent was for the gallery to be destroyed. Otherwise the fire department would have found some type of incendiary d
evice that would have allowed the suspect to spark a flame once he’d exited the building. There was nothing like that.”

  “What they did find was a small device that had been mounted to the door,” Taggart explained. “It was cleverly done. The doorframe was white, and the latching system matched it. If no one was inspecting it closely, it would have been easy to miss.”

  “Latching system?” Patricia opened the folder again, turning to the pictures.

  “Yes.” Bran pointed to the item in question. “It’s a simple thing. That particular door actually opens into the hallway instead of into the room. The gallery owner explained it was designed that way to maximize space in the private showing rooms. They can open those doors and not lose square footage on the inside. Our would-be killer used that to his advantage. He placed a flip lock here on the upper part of the door. Once it’s locked, it’s difficult to open and, given the color and where it was placed, hard to see and therefore undo.”

  “You’re the one who got her out.” Cain closed the folder again. “How did you do it?”

  “Pure adrenaline.” He could still feel it, that bolt of energy that had come with knowing Carly was on the other side of the door.

  Cain sighed and shook her head. “Well, if they were attempting to make it look like an accident, how on earth did they expect to get away with it?”

  Taggart took over. “I believe our man panicked. He was out of time. He’d set everything up properly, but the shoot didn’t go as expected. The latch was attached with an industrial glue and not properly installed. That was smart on his part. If he’d installed it with nails, even taking it away would raise questions because he wouldn’t have time to repair the door and frame to its original state.”

  They’d gone over this in the car on the way over. Carly had seemed fascinated with the ins and outs of the attempt on her life. It had made Bran sick. “There’s a simple solvent that would dissolve the glue and then Tim could have pocketed the latch, wiped off the door, and no one would be the wiser.”

  “But that’s not what happened.” Cain rolled her eyes. “Obviously he wasn’t very professional.”