Coming In Hot Box Set

by Gina Kincade

  “Hello, Gabe. Thanks for coming by. It’s nice to meet you. Wes has told me so much about you.” Hope held the door open, inviting my walking wet dream in.

  We locked gazes the moment he entered, and I straightened my spine and pinned an impassive expression on my face. “Good afternoon,” I said, though it did come off a tad stiff.

  “Joy.” He stared at me a moment before performing a long, appreciative ogling of my body.

  I tried not to fidget over my attire. Today was my day off, and I always came by to donate medical care and volunteer at the rescue. I wore a button up shirt, which I’d tied in a knot at my ribs, exposing my stomach. If I’d know he would show up, I’d have left it down. Or called in sick. One of the newborn puppies in the box whimpered, reminding me of their existence. Lies. I still would have come ‘cause Hope and the pups needed me to.

  “I’ll catch you later, girl. I’m heading out.” I offered her a smile as fake as the gaudy jewelry my grandmother used to wear and tried to step around them to walk through the door.

  An arm encircled my waist, surprising me so much that I let out a small yelp. Striker’s warm and scent filled my personal bubble, and I jerked my head around to glare up at him. “Did you not check your messages this morning? Cause I really think you should if you haven’t.”

  “I checked it. I’ve just been waiting for you to grow up and send me another one…along with a friend request.” The growl of his voice contained a mixture of annoyance and arousal.

  “You unfriended him?” Hope asked, her tone disbelieving.

  “Yes,” I snapped. “He got me all worked up last night, then backed out because he didn’t have the balls to follow through. I don’t have time for pretenders. Now, let me go!”

  He swung me around and pulled me against his chest, even as I struggled to free myself. To my shame, despite my anger at him, my body prayed he would kiss me. That he would shove me against a wall and tell me to get in his fucking truck right this minute so he could take me home and sex me up.

  “I backed out because what you want and need requires something more in-depth than a quick fuck,” Striker replied, his tone deadly quiet.

  “You don’t know that. You said it yourself last night; you barely know me.”

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Hope yelled. We turned our heads in unison to find her staring at us with her hands on her hips. She pointed a finger that seemed to be aimed at me. “You are using a lame ass excuse to cover up why you are really running away. I don’t know the reason, cause you haven’t talked to me, but I’m pretty sure it has something to do with knowing for once you’ve met your match.”

  She swung that finger slightly upward to point at Striker. “And you… She’s not just my best friend, she’s like my sister. You hurt her and I’ll make my ex-military boyfriend beat you up. Quit being a gentleman. Prove your sex is worth more than a single encounter.”

  “Hope!” I screeched.

  My friend shot me a look filled with pity. “I love you, but sometimes your stubbornness is your own worst enemy. Now, I’m going to run some uh…errands. Really, really long drawn out errands. Like, I won’t be back until it’s time for pm feed because these errands are going to take so long. Move.”

  Striker stepped away from the door to let her past, moving me with him as if I weighed nothing. I sent her a look that I hoped screamed, “Traitor.”

  She must have caught the message, because she stopped just as she was closing the door. One eyebrow quirked, and I could swear the little shit fought a smile. “Her preferred safe word is bazinga.”

  “Hope!” I shrieked as she disappeared outside, shutting the door firmly behind her. I struggled against Striker’s chest, pushing at him. “I said, let me go.”

  He growled like a feral animal and twisted us around, pressing my back to the door, but his arms remained tightly around me. “You heard the woman. You want out, use the safe word.”

  “Fuck you.” I snarled the words at him

  A wicked grin spread across his face. “My pleasure.”

  The kiss he pressed to my mouth was gentle at first, but as I obstinately refused to kiss him back, he increased the pressure until a pleasurable sting swept across my lips. If he wanted my compliance, my submission, he was damn well going to have to work for it. The son of a bitch had cock-teased me long enough, and I wasn’t about to willingly spread my legs for him without some effort on his part.

  He shoved a knee between my legs and bent it. I’m not sure what else he did, but the next thing I knew, I was standing on my tip toes from the pressure on my crotch. It created an exquisite burn that nearly had me moaning. I caught myself before I could emit the sound, and pushed at his shoulders.

  As he broke the kiss, I nipped his lip hard enough that I imagined it probably stung, but not enough to bloody him. It was a warning bite, not an attack. To his credit, Striker didn’t miss a beat as he pulled away and untied the knot in my shirt with one tug.

  “Did I say you could do that?” I demanded.

  In one quick motion, he grabbed my hair at the back of my head and pulled it just hard enough to elicit a gasp. “I don’t answer to you. Right now, you are my little sex toy. Do you understand that? You don’t like it, use the fucking safe word and I will stop. Until then, every smart-ass thing you say will just get you in more trouble.”

  “You think you can just waltz in here and have your way with me like you own me? I have news for you, buddy. You can go fuc—”

  He tugged on my hair again, this time slightly harder. Tears stung my eyes, even as the sensation sent jolts of pleasure to my very core. I wanted to fight him. To bite and snarl and hiss and kick like a feral animal. I wanted him to earn the right to shove his cock so deep in me I’d never be able to forget what he felt like. Some deep, animalistic part of me recognized the primal side of him and howled in delight at the challenge. The chance that for once, someone might be strong enough to deserve my vulnerability.

  “Take off your pants, Joy,” he instructed. His grip on my hair eased slowly until he massaged my scalp with his fingertips. It only served to make the spot on my head more sensitive.

  I raised my chin defiantly. “Make me.”

  Chapter Six

  Striker the gentleman disappeared completely and the look in his eyes boasted an almost lazy self-confidence. It was the disposition of a man who knew his limits so well, he could walk his own edges without blinking an eye. It also meant he had no qualms pushing someone else to theirs.

  It scared me.

  The fact that it scared me only excited me more.

  “Take your pants off.”

  “And if I don’t?” I asked, baiting him.

  “I’ll do it for you.” He leaned in closer, to the point my lips ached for the feel of his kiss again as our mouths feathered against each other. “Then I will spank you like the brat you are,” he stated in a soft growl.

  I quirked an eyebrow at him. “I’d like to see you try.”

  I knew, even as I said the words, I was poking the bear. That if I kept deliberately mocking and teasing him, he’d have to fold or show his hand. My heart rose in my throat as he exploded into action and I realized something… As much as I wanted his domination, I feared it. What if he went too far over the edge and hurt me? What if the control I needed him to have slipped, and the line of pleasure and pain plummeted straight to agony? How could I be sure that he wouldn’t fade into that shadowy territory where a man who claims to be a Dom is nothing more than an asshole who delights in abuse?

  My adrenaline kicked in I shoved at him wildly, reliving one of the darkest moments of my life. A belt that landed too hard. The cuts and bruises that took ages to heal. The shame that it was my fault our session ever reached that level. The hurtful, degrading words spoken in my ear, even as I repeated my safe word over and over through my sobs. The knowledge that tomorrow, when the alcohol left his system and he studied his handiwork, he’d make false promises that he’d never do it again.
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  “Joy!”

  A hand cupped my face. Smoothed back my hair. Dried my tears. I was crying? When did I start crying?

  “Easy, girl. Steady,” a soothing voice said as soft strokes slid across my cheek.

  “I’m not a horse,” I bit out as Striker came in to focus. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a frightened animal.”

  A deep chuckle resonated through my body as he laughed. “You sure were mewling like a scared little pussy, though it wasn’t the kind of mewling I wanted to hear. What happened?”

  I balled my anxiety up and shoved it back in it’s neat little box while locking the door on the flashbacks that threatened to give me double vision. “I got caught up in the moment. I didn’t say bazinga, did I?”

  “You didn’t have to,” he said flatly.

  I stared at him in stunned silence, letting what just happened sink in. Even without the safe word, he stopped. I didn’t have to say shit. He didn’t even hurt me, but he stopped. My mind focused on that so hard, my thoughts sounded like a parrot with a very limited vocabulary. He stopped. He stopped. He stopped…

  “Where are you?” he asked, his tone soft.

  “Take me,” I whispered. “Do it now.”

  Striker shook his head, a firm expression on his face. “Not until you tell me what the fuck happened.”

  “No.” I leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Not now. Not yet. It will ruin the mood. Take me.”

  “After?” he asked.

  I hesitated briefly before nodding. “Yes.”

  Without another word, I stepped away from him to unfasten my pants. He let me go, and though his eyes still held a wariness, his body language appeared relaxed. Somehow, I knew it was about as relaxed as a coiled snake. That if I started to fall into that black abyss locked deep inside of me again, he’d spring forward to catch me before I lost myself to my memories. The knowledge bolstered me, made me feel safer. More confident that giving myself to him without any further fighting was the right thing to do.

  My pants slid down my legs, but I left my panties on. Even though I’d made the decision to no longer be a brat—for now—I still wasn’t going to stand in front of him naked without some form of compensation on his part. As if sensing my thoughts, Striker eased off the wall he leaned against and removed his shirt.

  He wasn’t overly muscular, but the muscles that rippled when he moved were definitely toned. His body told me a story all of its own about a man who fought and won against quite a few things that would have brought a lesser man to his knees. Later, much later, I’d have to ask him about each individual scar. For now, I simply walked over and traced my finger across one of the biggest scars that ran along his ribs. Striker opened his mouth to speak, and I silenced him with a kiss.

  “Shhh. Not now.”

  “Take the rest off,” he responded, and I knew he understood what I needed. That our sex had to be passionate right now, and not a restrictive, analytical thing. Someday, there would be a place in our lives for scenes and BDSM and protocols. For the learning curve that a new relationship required until everything ran so seamlessly that it was second nature. Right now, I needed to give myself to him without inhibitions. Striker seemed to know that, and instead of demanding I fall back in line and get on my knees, he peppered me with kisses while I unbuttoned his jeans.

  My checkered shirt slid down to my elbows and I shrugged it off. I paused, clad only in a bra and panties, and for a moment I worried. Would he reject me? No scars decorated my skin from the abuse I’d suffered, but I worried just the same. The guttural moan of approval as he grabbed my hips and drew me in for a kiss put those fears to rest.

  “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered before plundering my mouth with his tongue.

  I sagged with relief at the contact. At the sincerity in those words. This walking Adonis found me appealing, even with my flaws and hang ups? Despite the meltdown I’d had moments before? With all my smart mouth responses and attitude?

  “Fuck me, Striker. Now.”

  He stepped back and I whimpered in protest, but quickly stifled it as he shed his pants. They were kicked to the side unceremoniously before he pulled his briefs down. I’d never liked briefs before. Always thought the tighty-whitey undies looked ridiculous. The scrap of cloth didn’t seem so ridiculous now.

  Striker peeled them off, then let his gaze slide over my body, lingering at my panties and bra. I got the hint. He wanted them off, and it made me more than happy to oblige. The bra flew across the room in seconds, and my panties followed.

  Rah, rah, rah.

  We both froze at the sound of a barking dog.

  Oh God, please don’t let Hope be back! Wait, worse. Please don’t let it be someone who didn’t make an appointment to adopt.

  I watched Striker with wide eyes as he stepped over to the window that faced the drive and peeked out. It gave me the perfect opportunity to study his tight ass, which I would have appreciated more if my heart wasn’t in my throat. After a moment he turned back to me.

  “Mailman.”

  A nervous giggle bubbled out before I could stop it, and an answering chuckle erupted from him. We stared at each other for a moment. When I began to fear the mood died, he crooked a finger at me. I obeyed him, though I did put a little sashay in my step. As I placed my hands on his chest, his palm connected with my left ass cheek. A yelp tore from my throat, setting several dogs off into a round of barking.

  “This is for wearing panties to dinner,” he said as he traced his fingers in feather-soft, lazy circles. The stinging sensation eased and I began to relax into the touch when he suddenly spanked me again. This time I hissed as I rose on to my toes, but I didn’t cry out.

  He alternated like that for what felt like an eternity, then switched sides. “This is for breaking up with me over a damn chat message,” he whispered in my ear.

  With each connection of flesh on flesh, the core of my body burned like a fanned ember, threatening to consume me. I buried my face against his chest, drawing in the scent of him, clutching his hips to keep myself centered.

  “Please,” I begged. My body trembled to the point my legs were even shaking. I wanted to collapse on to the floor, but my ass stung. Maybe the cool concrete would soothe my soreness away? I didn’t even care that I hadn’t swept yet.

  Striker backed me up until the edge of Hope’s desk pressed against my sensitive rear. I hesitated for a moment at the idea of using her personal space like this. She did give us express permission. I’ll just be sure I clean the kennel after as a thank you, and to sani—

  “Thoughts on me,” he instructed, then nipped my earlobe. “No disappearing into your head.”

  I scraped my nails lightly down his chest, delighting in the trail left in my wake. Striker growled, slid his hands under my thighs, and lifted me so that I perched on the edge of the desk. Something banged as it fell to the floor, but I didn’t bother looking to see what. I’d take care of it later. Right now, all that mattered was…

  “Wait, where are you going?” I protested as he jerked back with a curse. “You aren’t going to bail on me again, are you?”

  “Condom,” he responded as he bent over and searched through his pants.

  I wanted to point out I was a big girl who believed in multiple partners, so birth control and I had a long-standing relationship, but it felt petty. The poor guy was just trying to be the man and look out for us. It was cute, even if it did make me want to beat my head against a wall from sexual frustration.

  “If you don’t have sex with me right this damn instant, I’m pretty sure I’m going to die,” I said, pointing at the floor in front of me.

  Striker laughed as he rolled a condom on his length. “Say please again. I liked it when you did.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him where he could stick that dick if he didn’t stick it in me, when he cupped his balls with one hand and stroked himself with the other. The sight made my mouth run dry. I was an absolute sucker for men mastu
rbating while they stared at me. From the look in his eyes, I had a sneaky suspicion he knew about that kink too.

  “Please,” I managed to say without sounding too desperate.

  “Good girl.” He strode over and adjusted me so my weight centered on my tailbone, giving him full access. His cock pressed into me, teasing, torturing, and I realized he was deliberately holding back.

  Enough is enough! I dug my heels into his ass cheeks and thrust my hips forward. A cry of frustration escaped me when all I succeeded in doing was sheathing the tip.

  “Is this what you want?” He pushed a little deeper.

  “Uh huh.”

  Striker surged into me, filling me in ways I’d only dreamed about since I met him yesterday morning. He pushed in to the hilt, then stood still for a moment. Just when I was about to squirm and call him every mother fucking curse word I could think of, he bucked his hips, tilting upward. I nearly jumped out of my own skin as he reached a sweet spot I didn’t even know I had. All my other partners had given me the usual in, out, repeat motion of sex. Most of the men never played kinkier than some dirty talk and hair pulling.

  He didn’t even thrust so much as he continued to grind into me, rotating his hips and stimulating that spot over and over until I nearly sobbed as I rode the edge of an orgasm. Just as I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he reached between my legs and gave my clit a soft pinch.

  “Fuck yes!” I screamed, embracing the orgasm as it swept over me in a raging inferno.

  “God damn, girl. You’re going to make me come,” he managed to grit out before I felt his body stiffen and his cock pulse.

  Little aftershocks rippled through me as we panted. I didn’t know about him, but I needed a moment to pull myself back together. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he stepped back, starting to unsheath himself from me.

  “Bazinga,” I protested, tightening my legs around him.

  Striker froze, regarding me for a moment, then cracked a grin. “Really? Using it to keep me in you? Didn’t get enough?”