“You’re like a whole case of dynamite, aren’t you Ursa Esterbrook?” he said over the music. “I’d count myself the luckiest man in existence to be with you when you explode.”
Sobered by the feeling of his fingers on her butt and his sexual innuendo, Ursa lifted her arms and tried to spin out of his hold. Luke’s hold on her firmed, however, keeping her pressed up against the length of his body.
“Where do you think you’re going, Gorgeous?”
She faltered in the beat. “Don’t, Luke. Let go,” she said.
“Not when you feel so damn good,” Luke purred, leaning down further over her. His gaze lowered to the loose laces of her leather bralette. “Damn girl, you fill out that vest like a man’s dirtiest dream.”
He pulled her hips closer. She felt a rising erection against her belly. She instinctively jerked back like she’d been burned.
“No.”
Something brushed against her hip. Luke’s face went rigid.
“I suggest you let go of her right now and get the hell out of here, or I’m going to break your wrist.”
She started at the sound of Z’s voice so near her right ear. Luke released her hips in a heartbeat. He stepped back.
“Z—”
“If you ever touch her again, I’ll break every bone in the offending hand. You got me?” Z interrupted Ursa.
His stare on Luke was like a blowtorch: concentrated and lethally hot. She realized he held Luke’s wrist in a white-knuckled fist. Luke winced, appearing desperate, and nodded once. He gasped when Z released him, making Ursa believe he’d been in some serious pain from Z’s large, squeezing hand.
Without another word, Z took her hand and led her off the crowded dance floor.
He couldn’t remember being this mad. Not in a long, long time. Once they reached his office and he’d slammed the door shut, he realized Ursa had been talking the whole time. The rush of blood pounding in his ears had prevented him from hearing.
“…I can’t imagine what you were thinking, treating him that way. What if Luke presses charges? You already have an assault charge on your record.”
“What would he accuse me of, exactly?” he grated out, taking a step toward her. “Grabbing his wrist?”
“He might, who knows?” she exclaimed. He realized she appeared overwrought. Her cheeks were flushed pink. So were her full lips. Her jerked his gaze off her parted mouth with effort. But then he didn’t know where to look. Every inch of her, from her black leather boots to her wild, tousled blonde hair, to her mouthwatering cleavage: all of it screamed pure, distilled sex.
“I’d tell the truth if he goes to the police. I’d say I was taking his hands off the ass of my next-door neighbor because she was telling him to let go of her. A judge could decide which type of manhandling was more offensive. I know how I’d vote,” he seethed under his breath.
“We were just dancing,” she said emphatically, crossing her arms at the strip of smooth, golden skin at her tiny waist. She tilted her chin up in a stubborn gesture and leveled a furious glance. For his whole life, Ursa’s green eyes had reminded him of a calm, deep pool of water.
Currently, the rebellious blaze in them set a fire racing in his blood.
He glanced down at the outrageous, infuriating, ridiculously sexy vision of her full, round breasts on display between the laces of the suede vest she wore. Not only was she large for her body build, she had the most tempting breasts he’d ever seen. The vivid memory of how they’d looked in his hands, the flawless pale skin, the flushed nipples left shining and stiff from his mouth; it all popped into his mind’s eye, almost knocking the breath out of his lungs.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he roared, freshly pissed, waving at the tiny top and jeans that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He clenched his teeth when his gaze landed at the apex of her thighs. His cock jerked in response.
His cock knew what it wanted, all right.
“You come in here, stirring up trouble, dressed like some kind of Jezebel displaying her wares—”
“What did you just say?” she shrieked, eyes wide in disbelief. She sputtered for a moment, apparently incredulous to the point of speechlessness at his description.
“Jezebel?” she finally screeched full force. “How dare you. Who the hell even says that in this day and age? And who the hell are you, anyway? Where did Z Beckett go?”
“I’m the guy who has your best interests at heart.”
She stepped into him aggressively. “My best interests? You mean your interests. And your interests are maintaining the status quo at all costs. If you had it your way, I’d remain that weakling kid next door, just because it’s convenient to your life,” she said, stabbing at his chest with two stiffened fingers for emphasis.
In his rage, he couldn’t think of anything to say. He found himself breathing in her fresh, peachy and focusing on her heaving breasts beneath those straining leather laces.
Which probably was a mistake.
“Ursa Esterbrook doesn’t dress like this,” he bit out.
“Ursa Esterbrook is dressed like this. Wake up, Z. Get your head out of your ass and the past and look at reality.”
He gnashed his teeth together. He was about to explode with outrage and lust. There was nowhere to put it all, no place to contain all this feeling. She just stared up at him, bold and hot enough to turn ice to instant vapor.
“I’m looking,” he breathed out ominously, lowering over her upturned, outraged face. “At a little girl acting out. I’m looking,” he continued more softly, his pulse throbbing in his cock, the ache mounting by the second. “At a little girl who needs a few good whacks on her backside. Maybe that’ll put some sense back into you.”
He saw her hesitate at that. That had put her on pause, if nothing else had. Then it happened. That flash of anxious excitement crossed her beautiful face…the same one he’d seen in her apartment when he’d swatted her gorgeous ass.
His cock pulsed angrily against the confines of his clothing.
“You wouldn’t,” she said, somehow defiant and uncertain at once.
“I will,” he replied, pressing his mouth into a hard line. God help me, I will. “I don’t know what’s got into you, but I can’t take this anymore Ursa.”
She took a step back, watching him warily.
“You said you’d do it if I left up my profile on those sites. Did you check?” she asked shakily. “My profile isn’t on there anymore.”
“It was never on there,” he growled, his fury at her mounting at the same rate as his determination. “You said that to rile me. Admit it.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Liar. I called someone I know. Someone who regularly utilizes BikerHookUp,” he said, frowning at the memory of being forced to call someone he privately despised and barely tolerated in public. “I gave him a description of you without using your name. He insisted no one with that description has ever had a profile there…and he would know.”
He saw her throat convulse as she swallowed. “Well, he was mistaken—”
“He wasn’t mistaken. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s the scent of raw meat. He would have been all over a vulnerable, beautiful girl like you within two seconds flat. Admit it, Ursa. You lied to me to get me worked up. You’re pushing my buttons.”
“I…I was just trying—”
“You were just trying to what? Make me feel like I want to chew on a handful of nails, I’m so pissed.”
Screw a hole in the wall, I’m so fucking horny.
“I was just trying to get you to see me as a sexy woman!”
He started slightly at her shout. She appeared to be just as astonished at her outburst. Her words fully penetrated his buzzing brain.
He gritted his teeth.
“Congratulations,” he said. “You’ve su
cceeded. I see an over the top gorgeous, indecently hot girl standing in front of me.” She blinked. Even more color flew into her cheeks. Her breasts pressed rhythmically against the leather and laces of the vest as she panted.
“Now you’re going to have to pay for making me see you this way, Ursa.”
“What?” she asked reluctantly.
He nodded toward his desk and the chair behind it. “Come over here, and loosen your jeans.” He put his hand on the crook of her elbow and urged her gently.
“I…” She cast a furtive glance in the direction of his desk. “You can’t be serious.”
She planted her booted feet.
So, here it was. It had come down to this. They’d crossed the line together once. Ursa had crossed another line by lying to him and then showing up at the café tonight, looking sexy enough to make a man spontaneously combust in his jeans.
Now, he was about to cross a line from which there possibly would be no return. It wasn’t just the steady, almost painful ache of his cock making him to do it, either. It was something deeper. Something he couldn’t quite put a name to, but which somehow, he instinctively knew was inescapable in that moment.
There was only one thing that could stop him.
He reached for her chin, tilting it up until she met his stare.
“You don’t have to,” he said.
Her expression altered ever so subtly. Where there been reluctance and anxiety, now there was trust and anxiety.
He saw her throat convulse. Her chin went up another inch.
“I’m not afraid,” she said.
He’d never been so glad to see defiance in a woman.
“Then come with me,” he said. This time, her feet didn’t drag. She walked with him behind his desk. He sat in his chair and moved it back several feet. He looked up at her, waiting, listening to his heartbeat drum in his ears and feeling it thrum insistently in his cock.
Slowly, she began to unfasten her jeans. His gaze flickered downward, charting the progress of her slender fingers releasing one snap after another. Her long hair spilled forward when she bent to peel the tight denim from her hips and down to her thighs.
She straightened.
“Am I supposed to…”
This time, witnessing her uncertainty cut into him.
“You’re doing fine. Leave your the jeans where they are.” His gaze lowered to the apex of her thighs. Desire shot through him like a lance. She wore simple white cotton panties. The evidence of the old Ursa—the Ursa that of course still existed beneath all that fuck-me hair and leather lace-up bra—nearly undid him. He bit the inside of his cheek in a desperate attempt to calm himself.
“Just lower your panties. I’ll help you into my lap,” he managed.
She bent slightly to slide her panties down. As she straightened, he caught a glimpse of the neatly trimmed triangle of hair between her thighs. It was a darker, secret version of the wild, gold waves and curls falling around her breasts and arms, a burnished, sweet temptation, unlike anything he’d ever experienced in his life.
“Come here,” he said, taking her hand.
Chapter Nine
Z guided her as she stepped toward him, her movement awkward due to her jeans bunched around her lower thighs. She stood next to his chair, her bare thighs pressing against his leg. Holding her stare, he dropped his hand to her ass. He caressed the plump globes gently.
Ah. He remembered all too well. It was like stroking silk.
“You’ve never been spanked before, have you?” he asked her gruffly.
She shook her head. She appeared transfixed as she stared at his face, and he continued to caress her ass softly.
“Z?” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Are you really that mad?”
“I’m really that mad,” he stated simply. “But I would never cause you any real harm beyond a little sting and burn. You have to believe that, Ursa.”
She just nodded, but the uncertainty remained on her face. His forefinger stroked the furrow of her ass softly. He saw her gasp, and then she held her breath. Pink color flushed her cheeks.
“You lied to me to get me worked up. To set me off balance. To make me do something I normally wouldn’t do. It wasn’t a small lie, either. I was out of my mind with worry, thinking about you being exposed to those lowlifes on those Internet sites. I can’t imagine what would make you tell such a bald-faced, cruel lie.” He watched as she bit her full lower lip, clearly sensing her regret. “Now, you’ve gotten your way. And you’re going to pay the consequences.”
He guided her into his lap, facedown. She wriggled around a little when she’d gotten there, trying to find a steady place. He grimaced at the sensation of her struggling so near his erection. He snapped his wrist, spanking her ass briskly.
“Oh,” she gasped.
“Put your breasts over the outside of this thigh,” he instructed, tapping his left hip. “Your ass should fall across my other thigh,” he said, cupping a luscious ass cheek and maneuvering her firmly, but gently, in his lap, until she was stable and centered for his spanking hand. “Just relax your upper body, let your arms drop to the floor,” he urged her, sweeping one hand up beautiful back to smooth out her tension. Her forehead rested on the outer cushion of his chair.
She sighed.
“You seem like you have a lot of experience doing this,” he heard her say breathlessly.
“Some.”
“Does that mean you like it? Spanking a woman?”
“If the preference is mutual,” he murmured, his attention once again on her pale, round ass. The excuse for a top she wore was so brief, he could fully appreciate how small her waist was, the mouthwatering curve of her hips, and the firm, lush cheeks of her ass. He lifted his hand in an instinctive motion, planning to part her ass cheeks to look his fill of her.
He reminded himself that this was Ursa, and stopped himself in mid-reach.
“I don’t understand,” she said, lifting her head up. “How do you know if—”
“I saw your reaction when I spanked you, that first time,” he said, gently urging her with his hand to lower her head again. “You pick up on the signs, and you just know. Just like you probably knew, deep down, you would end up in my lap if you kept pushing my buttons. No more questions. You’re being punished.”
“Oh, right,” she breathed out.
He was glad she couldn’t see his little smile at her earnestness. He was pissed as hell at her for all her stunts.
But she had to be the sweetest thing in existence.
He lifted his hand over her ass. For a second, doubt assailed him. He hesitated.
But then she squirmed slightly in his lap and made a tiny, anxious, extremely sexy sound: a whimper of anticipation.
His palm popped her right ass cheek, the crack of flesh against flesh sealing his fate.
She moaned, and he immediately soothed the buttock with his stroking hand.
“If it’s too much, you have to tell me. I can lessen the pressure, and still give the necessary sting.”
“No,” she said in a muffled voice. “It’s not that. It’s just…”
“What?”
“Nothing,” he heard her say.
“Does it excite you?”
He blinked at the sound of his own, rough voice in the quiet room. He hadn’t been planning to speak the question out loud.
“I…I don’t know,” she said shakily. He resisted a barbarian urge to plunge his finger into her pussy in order to answer his own question with authority.
He realized her buttock was molded firmly in his hand. He hadn’t been soothing her; he’d been enjoying her.
Craving her.
Hardening his will, he lifted his hand and swatted each cheek in quick succession four times. Her moan was nearly exciting as the sound of his
hand swatting firm flesh.
“You’re going to tell me why you lied to me before we’re done here,” he told her, determinedly ignoring the monumental ache of his cock as he smoothed his hand over her ass. “Do you want to explain now? Ursa?” he prompted when she remained silent. He realized she held her breath, and spanked her briskly twice more. A shaky moan popped out of her throat, the sound recognizably—patently—sexual.
Hot, potent lust shot through him, leaving him a little dizzy in its wake.
“You won’t believe me,” he heard her groan.
He massaged one of her warming ass cheeks in his left hand, grimacing as though the sensation pained him.
Which it did, if he was being honest. His cock ached like a mother-fucker.
Holding one of her ass cheek’s captive with his left hand, he spanked it several times with his right. She jumped slightly, and then squirmed in his lap. He winced and held her hips in place.
“Stay still, Ursa,” he bit out. Determined, he kept a firm hold on her with his left arm and popped her lower buttocks several times in quick succession. He tried to ignore her provocative moans and whimpers, focusing on heating her flesh with his hand and turning her bottom a blushing pink.
A moment later, he found himself existing inside a bubble of pure lust and wanting. He clamped his eyelids shut for a few seconds to bring himself under control.
“I think we’ve established that you’re full of surprises by this point, Ursa,” he grated out. He placed his hand matter-of-factly between her thighs, wedging them open a few inches. Feeling the heat emanating off her sex, he bit off a curse. Grimly, he placed his hand on a buttock. “Why don’t you leave it up to me to decide if I’ll believe you are not. The only thing you need to do right now is tell me the truth. Why did you lie about putting a profile on those sites this afternoon?”
He squeezed her buttock more tautly in his palm. She moaned and shifted in his lap.
“Ursa?”
“I told you before,” she gasped. “I did it because I wanted you to see me as sexual… Not just some stupid little girl you’ve known forever.”
Wild, Wounded Hearts Page 8
