by T. A. Grey
He’d definitely made one mistake, he figured, as he strode to the shower, turned it on, and stepped under the spray. He’d seriously underestimated her appeal to him. He must be some kind of sick man or just desperate. He made quick work under the cool spray. When she’d been younger, he could easily, or as easily as possible, ignore things that had caught his eye about her. Now she was older, a young woman, and living in his house. Her sweet, light scent saturated every room, and he liked it. He liked having her scent around and he really liked the way she smelled. He ground his jaw and turned the water off.
She needed a good spanking after the stunt she’d pulled last night. His cock swelled at the idea and he ran a hand over his face to try to clear the image of what her rounded ass would look like. She’d grown to be thin with small breasts that looked way too good in anything she wore. He’d tried not to notice, he’d really tried not to notice how her ass looked in jeans, but it was like trying to ignore an elephant sitting in the room with you. Impossible not to look, impossible not to stare sometimes. She had a small, rounded ass. He’d found himself wondering how much it’d jiggle if he spanked it; how it’d feel in his grip as he rode her.
“Fuck!”
He slammed his dresser door shut with a hard bang then dressed as fast as he could. He grabbed a bottle of blood out of his cabinet and started chugging as he left the room. He needed something, anything, to take his mind off of her. Especially off the idea of her naked with his hands on her—something that couldn’t and wouldn’t happen, it seemed.
Shit. The image of her lithe body writhing against his last night, her face, her pouty lips so close to his zipper wouldn’t go away. Little did she know, he’d gone rock hard and he’d had a brief little fantasy of pulling his cock out right there to feel her lips wrap around it. Old fucking pervert.
She’s mated, his mind reminded him.
She also hates his disgusting guts.
Things were going to get dangerous if he didn’t get his libido and shit under wraps. Hell, if he didn’t, then she might just find herself under him, legs spread wide.
He turned into the kitchen, then stopped dead in his tracks. All thoughts, all protests, everything, stopped. His tongue dried up like all the moisture suddenly evaporated from the air around him. Vanessa was bent over with the refrigerator door open. She had a pink strappy shirt on that clung to her back and also rode up...a lot, revealing a lot of tan, smooth skin and the indention of her spine. In a powerful rush, his cock hardened like a damn pike.
His gaze fell lower and almost everything he’d wondered about her ass was right there at hip level. If he just came forward, his hips would press tight against her soft cheeks. If he just slipped those shorts down her hips, eased his zipper down, he could...
What the hell did she think she was wearing? Pink, little shorts and tight ones, too. He could see where her thighs met the rounded cheeks. Hell, the little scrap of cloth just covered her cheeks and hips and nothing else.
Her dark hair moved as she turned, her gaze locking on him. Her amber eyes turned to pure ice and then she returned to the fridge, grabbed some juice, and closed the door. She moved around the kitchen, pouring herself a glass and returning the juice jug, never once meeting his eyes again. She steadfastly ignored him as if he wasn’t there watching her. He didn’t like that, not one bit.
“Vanessa, we need to talk.” He swigged down the last of the blood, crushed the plastic container in his fist, and tossed it into the trash.
Her shoulders jumped as if she’d laughed, but he didn’t hear a sound. She kept her back to him as she finished her drink and rinsed it out.
His eyes strayed down to her legs. They looked like they went on forever, looking smooth and shiny in the light. His voice turned deeper as he said, “You are going to talk to me, Vanessa.”
This time she did laugh. She spun to face him and what she did next made it very hard for him not to stroll right over there and keep her mouth busy with his. She leaned back against the sink, her elbows on the counter, one foot kicked back to rest against the cabinet.
“And just what did you want to talk about, Brayden?”
Her smart mouth was going to get her into trouble if she didn’t can it. “I don’t think you’re a slut and I never said that. You took it wrong.”
“Mmhmm,” she said, sounding bored.
He rolled his neck, but it did nothing to ease the tight pain there. “Next time you want to play some shit like that going to a club, you’re telling me first.”
“Why? Are you going to go with me and make sure I’m safe? Are you going to dance with me too, Bray?”
“You won’t call me that if you know what’s good for you,” he warned. “And no, I’m not dancing with you, but I’ll make sure you stay safe from roaming hands and assholes with rufies.”
She lifted her eyebrows and nodded slowly. “Well, Bray, it doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t plan to head back to the club any time soon. That’s not my next goal.”
The air conditioner kicked on and the vent in the kitchen blew up across her. He watched, helpless, as her shirt waved against her flat stomach like a beckoning sign to come touch her. Then her nipples puckered from the cold, turning into little hard points against her shirt.
He turned his head away which he found much more difficult than it should be. “Go get changed, then we’ll talk.”
Her low, sultry laughter rolled over him. “Why?”
“Because you’re wearing little more than nothing and I want you to change. Do it now, Vanessa, and don’t press me.”
He heard her bare footsteps coming close and lifted his gaze to watch her. She wore an angry but proactive glare. “Does Bray Bray have a problem with half-nekkie Vanessa?” She tucked her thumbs into the spaghetti straps of her shirt and tugged on them like overalls.
His chest turned into a tight mess. Every muscle in his body tensed, flexing, to keep his hands from reaching forward. Just an extension of his arm and he could have her pressed right against him. Didn’t she know that? The silly woman had no idea how much trouble she could be in. Hell, trouble she would be in if she kept up the attitude.
“Don’t call me that, woman,” he warned.
Her lips curled into a grin. “What, I need to change because Bray Bray can’t stand a little skin? I thought you were immune to such things?” Her thumbs ran up and down the strap, rubbing the cotton of her top up and down her nipple.
He couldn’t control his next response.
He snapped.
He moved in a flash and had her body pressed against his, his mouth on hers, his tongue inside in a heartbeat. God, she tasted good. Fresh, womanly, and a little like citrus. He took her mouth hard and wet. When the hands shoving against his chest stopped and reared up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer like she’d die if she didn’t, he wanted to send a prayer of thanks up above.
But the kiss wasn’t enough. His hands needed to feel. He cupped her ass and squeezed, a groan leaving him at the soft, pliable skin he found there, and lifted her up. Her legs went around him, a soft gasp blowing over him, then his mouth moved down to ruthlessly latch onto a nipple.
Her hands moved into his hair and tugged on the strands which made his cock throb. “You have sweet nipples,” he said against her breast. A whiney moan left her and she thrust her chest forward, eager.
His mind raged with need, the urge to take, and he couldn’t control it. He walked and when her back hit the refrigerator, only his hands on her lush ass keeping her up, he released her nipple. With a tuck of his chin, he caught the top of her shirt and pushed it down to reveal her breast.
“Fuck...” He met her eyes and found them hungry, soft, and more than a little needy. “I’m going to suck on that, baby. Tell me now if you don’t want me to...” That’s the only warning he could give her.
He only had to wait a second before she nodded eagerly and his shoulders relaxed. He pressed his lips to her collarbone then trailed them down. Her breasts were fuc
king perfect. Soft and pert and gorgeous with dusky brown nipples. His tongue darted out and lapped around the hard puckered tip. Her hips thrust against him in response and he couldn’t keep his mouth from sucking her deep, nor keep his hands from threading under her little shorts to cup and squeeze bare skin. She made soft, sexy-as-fuck sounds in the back of her throat that sent his blood pumping way too fast and his cock throbbing way too hard. God, she was soft everywhere.
She kept repeating his name, his whole name, and again with that soft, husky voice of hers. And her little body writhed and arched against him, giving him all the signals he needed. With a hard tug, he bared her other breast, then laved it with the same attention. Her aroused scent teased him, taunted him. She smelled fucking delicious. He wanted to bury his face between her legs and lick her, find out if she tasted as good as she smelled.
He couldn’t stop touching her. Couldn’t keep his hands still, not when they were touching bare skin and so close to her sweet spot. He dipped one hand down further, between the soft globes of her ass and eased into wetness. A lot of it.
“Holy fuck,” he groaned against her wet nipple.
Her harsh breathing teased his ears, taunting.
“So beautiful. So wet, baby.” He almost couldn’t believe his own ears, the words spilling from his lips. They were all true and none of them carefully thought about or controlled. How could he when his mind spun and need roar in his ears, in his blood, to pierce her with his cock and fuck her until they were both limp and sweaty?
His fingers slipped further down and spread through her soft sex, circling her sensitive spot once. She stilled in his arms, her breath hitching, and when he didn’t circle it again, her hands slipped to his shoulders to squeeze painfully hard.
“Do it. Do it. Oh, please, do it,” she said quickly, her words panting together.
He kissed his way up her chest, across each breast, then found her neck and licked the slender column where the tendons stood taut with strain. He panted, his lips parted, because in a second, his fangs dropped and he shook with a different need. His sac pulled tight, need screaming at him to pierce her neck, fill her with his cock.
He tried to ease one of those needs and slid a finger inside her. So hot, so wet, she engulfed him with her tight little sex. He had to slam his mouth against hers lest he dropped his pants right there and take her. Her tongue met his, taking and giving as good as he gave. Her body trembled with need, actually fucking trembled...but he wanted to see it do more. So he pumped his finger in and out.
Cries left her, meshing against their wet kiss. Her body writhed and plastered against him, her hands kneaded and dug into his shoulders in the sweetest way possible as her feet dug into his ass, trying to arch him subconsciously into her.
He tore his mouth away and stared down into her face. She was beautiful, achingly so. Her heavy gaze met his, her labored breathing panting across his lips, and still he kept his finger moving in and out. In and out.
“You’re going to come for me.” Her eyes widened and then her breaths came faster. She nodded, her thighs actually falling open even more. “You’re beautiful, baby. Beautiful and something special.” Her gaze stayed wide, then she tugged on his head and pushed her tongue into his mouth. Fine by him.
He kept his hold on her bare ass cheek, massaging and squeezing the softness as he removed his other hand and shoved it into the front of her little shorts. Of course, she didn’t have panties on. These practically were just panties. He petted the soft hair he found there and groaned into the kiss. He had to kiss her harder to keep himself from dropping to his knees and burying his tongue up inside her. Instead, he trailed his fingers through her sex, petting and rubbing her, feeling her get hotter, wetter, her hips humping against his hand.
“So eager, baby.” He trailed his lips to her ear and tugged as his fingers worked slowly, not quite touching her where she’d explode, but teasing and building it up. His lips found her neck and he licked, sucked the skin tight into this mouth, his fangs just pressing against the sensitive flesh. “I bet you taste good.”
Her breath caught. “Do it.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and barely managed to close his mouth over his fangs. With a brief, hard shake of his head, he kissed her again, then sent his fingers spiraling around her needy slick sex. She came apart so easily. He couldn’t help his husky laughter as she shook and trembled in his arms; her cries made him nearly shoot. More wetness covered his hand and it wasn’t enough.
“Again,” he said. Then he rubbed her, stuffed his fingers inside and worked her up until she shattered a second time, this one lasting even longer, the shivers not leaving for a good minute. “Beautiful,” he told her.
Her head fell against his shoulder and with a wince, he let her legs slide to the floor and slowly unstuck his chest from hers. Her head lolled to the side, her lips parted and still breathing unevenly. He looked down at her. He shouldn’t have. Her breasts were bared with the little shirt stuck underneath them, her shorts were eschew and resting half-way down one hip, showing just a hint of her thatch of hair.
He turned away and closed his eyes. It didn’t help. Her image was burned into his eyes, her scent still covered his fingers, his clothes, wrapping around him in her essence. Arms wrapped around his middle and he stiffened. Her hands flattened against his stomach then delved down to cup him. He hissed and spun around, catching her wrists.
Her eyes were alight with hunger. She licked her lips at him and he had to shake his head. “You can’t still be...”
Her eyes traveled down his body, nearly making him shiver, then leveled on his bulging zipper. “Sure I can.” Her hands curled around his cock and he stepped back with a shake of his head.
“No; just no.” Thank God, those words made it out of his mouth, because it was the exact opposite of what he wanted to say.
Her eyes widened. “You can make me come, but I can’t make you? What kind of shit is that?”
He didn’t know. He just knew that his mind was really shaken up and addled right now and he needed some time to come down from the high and to assess just how much damage he’d caused. Even with his mind screaming at him to take her up on her offer, let her play with him, he knew he couldn’t. He needed to think.
“I need to think. Cover up.” He turned away and pressed his palms into his eyes sockets. It didn’t matter though; the sight of her small pert breasts still lingered there. “We have plans today. Get dressed; we’re interviewing King Brunes.”
He left the kitchen on hard steps before he did something he’d regret.
Little did he know, that later on when his ardor had cooled and his mind settled, would he realize that he’d already made an irrevocable mistake—and that was touching Vanessa Kategan.
Chapter 9
Sex was way better than alcohol. A thousand times better, no, a million times better. And that hadn’t even been sex sex. That had been foreplay...or messing around, or heck, she didn’t know what it was called. It’d been fucking incredible, amazing, jaw-dropping and better than she’d ever imagined.
And that was just with his hands.
She swooned back against her bed, freshly showered and dressed. Not for the first time that morning, she couldn’t stop grinning. No one had ever made her come before. She hadn’t been allowed to masturbate with Joseph around, or else he’d want to watch, and ew. She shivered with disgust.
Brayden had called her beautiful. He’d touched her almost everywhere. Like he couldn’t stop himself or get enough of her. He’d talked dirty... She definitely liked that, a lot. He had a great mouth and fingers and a hot body. She’d still been hungry for him after he’d set her down, reeling from two, freaking two, amazing orgasms. She’d wanted to feel his cock slip inside her because she knew that what she’d tasted had only been the tip of the iceberg.
Her whole taunting and teasing goal with Brayden had just been shot the hell out of the window and she couldn’t care less. Now, she wanted him. And he wanted her. S
illy, but she couldn’t stop smiling...or thinking about him...or thinking about doing more with him. And she had to get more with him, had to. She wasn’t nearly done.
A knock sounded and she went to the bedroom door, flinging it open with a smile. Brayden looked at her for about half a second before his gaze flicked away.
“Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”
Then he turned and strode down the hall.
Say what? That was it?
If he thought he could make her come like that then pretend it never happened, he had another think coming. Fuming, she stomped after him to the SUV. Neither of them said a word as he drove off. She cast scathing looks his way, all the way to the gated manor of King Brunes’ estate.
She glanced at the clock and saw it’d been nearly forty minutes since he’d knocked on her door and they took off for Brunes’. He put the car in park as an older valet man with thinning black hair strode toward the car. As Brayden’s hand curled around the door handle, she grabbed his arm to stop him. He looked back at her and the rant she’d been about to drill into him derailed like a runaway train.
“What happened at the house...that was a game changer. There is no going back,” he said.
Whoa, her breath caught in her throat and her chest suddenly felt really tight and uncomfortable because his gaze radiated with searing hunger.
“Okay,” she said.
Then he got out of the car as if he hadn’t just rocked her world upside down.
The valet managed to get to her door before she did and opened it for her, his head bowed, eyes trained on the ground. Brayden’s hard steps crunched against the black asphalt driveway as he came around the door, grabbed her hand, and tugged her to the front door.
She whistled low under breath. King Brunes had a home to fit his name. The mansion reeked of wealth. From the lavish fountain in front of the house that had a cherub with a bow across its back spurt water from his fist held in a circle around its mouth, to the utter size of the house. The house had to have at least ten bedrooms, possible more and probably just as many bathrooms. It was set back in the woods with a great expanse of vivid green grass, cut neat and short, around it. Brayden took her to the front door and knocked.
