Arrogant Bastard

by Jennifer Dawson

  “And what do you think you deserve?”

  “I want what Gwen and Jackson have.” She waves a hand over me. “Not this.”

  Ah, yes, her brother and his fiancée and all their mad, crazy passion. They walk around eyeing each other like they’re on the verge of tearing clothes off.

  They are a model couple, but something tells me that’s not really what Cat wants. It’s merely the only model she’s had.

  I raise a brow. “And what’s this?”

  “You. Distant.”

  “Yet you’re wet.” I study her face, searching for the answers. “So what does that mean?”

  She looks at me, her mouth slightly agape. She shakes her head. “You’re frustrating.”

  “Unbutton your blouse.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Yes.”

  She stares at me.

  I stare back.

  Several moments tick by as the car fills with tension.

  I glance pointedly at her buttons before moving down her body. “I can make you come right here in the truck instead of sending you off unsatisfied.”

  “I can go to bed and get all the satisfaction I want.” She presses back into the corner of the cab, as far away from me as she can get without escape. “You’re hardly necessary.”

  She’s trying to trap me, but I’m having none of it. “If you go back to your room, you’ll be tossing and turning, with no orgasms at all.”

  “You have no control over that.”

  Another test. I shrug. “You’ll lie in bed, and maybe you’ll give it a go, but you won’t get anywhere because you’ll start overthinking it—contemplating whether it gives me more power if you come or don’t come, getting angry and hot that I’ve made it complicated for you.”

  “You don’t know anything.” She’s squeezing her thighs, letting me know she likes this more than she’s letting on, that I’m right.

  I flicker my gaze dismissively over her body. “You want me to come over there and rip your blouse off, but think about it…” I pause, waiting for her to lean into what I’m about to say, and she doesn’t disappoint. “Isn’t it hotter this way? Being unable to help yourself, your fingers shaking as you undo one button after another, even though your head is screaming no.”

  “No.” The word is a small gasp.

  I shift closer to her. “Think about it—really think. Are you craving my loss of control? Or your own?”

  She bites her lip.

  I meet her gaze, which is now slightly aghast and glassy. “I can make you lose control, if you’ll let me.”

  A small shake of her head.

  “Unbutton.”

  Her fingers come up to play at the top button. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  I jut my chin toward the big house. “You’re free to go anytime. But I think you’ll like my tongue on your clit more than tossing and turning in a cold, empty bed.”

  Her finger circles the button between her breasts, indecision flickering across her features in the moonlight.

  “Try it and see what happens.” I smirk again. “I can’t promise you’ll like it, but I can assure you you’ll come hard enough that I’ll have to cover your mouth to stifle your screams.”

  Cat

  My head is a roar of conflicting thoughts—no, yes, no, yes, yes, yes—playing a symphony in my head.

  It’s dangerous.

  Reckless.

  Wild.

  This isn’t me. It’s the woman I wish I was. But even though it’s a lie, I want to embrace it.

  His eyes blaze in the darkness, waiting—like he’s a hunter—and it makes me shiver.

  I stall, unable to come to grips with a decision. “Why might I not like it?”

  “Because when I show you what a slut you can be for me, and me alone, you’ll feel vulnerable.” He leans closer and breathes out. “Powerless.”

  Yes, I want that, although I don’t know why, considering how powerless I already feel in my life. I hate that I want something wrong.

  He continues, weaving a spell around me with his honeyed voice. “I can make you do things you’ll hate as much as you love. I can make you crave them.”

  I feel like I might hyperventilate. “That’s awfully arrogant of you.”

  He shrugs. “Doesn’t make it not true.”

  I’m nervous and excited and squirming. But I can’t force the decision past my lips, so I keep questioning, hoping his answers will push me in the direction I want to go. “Is this some sort of weird control thing?”

  “I think I know what you want.”

  “No, you don’t, or else you’d give it to me.”

  He chuckles. “You think because I don’t lunge at you it means I don’t want you, when there’s nothing further from the truth.”

  I can feel the door handle at my back. “The evidence speaks for itself.”

  “It would, if you were looking at it honestly.”

  “What does that mean?” The question is out before I give myself time to think about whether I want the answer. It sits between us, loaded and heavy.

  Everything about him looks easy, a stark contrast to the tension riding me hard. It makes me want to hit him.

  His head tilts, as though he’s contemplating me. “You want to do battle with me. You want the war. It’s just that the battles are not what you’re expecting. They don’t match the fantasies in your head. It’s your expectations you need to let go of.”

  Is that true? That can’t be true. “You don’t know me.” My words are breathless and filled with a longing that embarrasses me.

  “Answer one question, and think about it carefully, all right?”

  This sounds dangerous, but I can’t stop now because I’m caught in limbo, unable to make the leap, but unable to go.

  I nod. “I’ll try.”

  “Since we’ve been sitting here.” He waves a hand around the small space. “Have you been thinking of unbuttoning that blouse, spreading your legs, and waiting for what happens next? Or have you been sitting here thinking of me pulling you on top of me and pulling off my belt before fucking you as fast as I can?”

  I look away, out the window. Oh…

  “Well?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s a lie.” He studies me so intently, I have to look away. “Tell me—have you even once thought of me pushing you down and taking you? Or have you been caught in this moment, dreaming about what it will feel like to undo that first button?

  How does he know? And why is he like this? Why can’t he just be easy like a normal man?

  A flush creeps over my neck and the compulsion to answer with the truth fills my throat. It sticks on the way out. “Undoing.”

  It’s all I can manage.

  His fingers flex, and he leans toward me. “Then unbutton your fucking blouse, Catarina.”

  Nobody uses my full name—no one—and my formal name on his lips sounds foreign. But I shiver all the same, because it feels like it’s been waiting for him.

  I have two choices here. Go home, or see this out.

  And I want to see.

  It’s my brain getting in the way.

  Logic is fighting me, but my lust wins. Don’t I deserve this tiny thing just for me? I take the first risk I’ve taken in a long, long time.

  I lean against the glass and slowly pop one button.

  “Good girl.” He looks lower. “Keep going.”

  It’s easier than I thought after that first one. Another falls away, and then another.

  He motions to the gaping fabric. “Now push your breasts above your bra.”

  My nipples are hard and aching. Now that I’ve started, I don’t think I can stop, which doesn’t matter, considering stopping is the furthest thing from my mind. I lift my fullness from the satin cups, letting them spill open.

  He reaches over and pulls the fabric of my blouse away, leaving me exposed. He rubs his thumbs over the peaks, circling until my head falls against the windows and
my eyes close.

  One nipple slips into his mouth, his teeth gently scraping it. I reach for him, tangling my fingers into his hair while he sucks.

  My back bows, arching into his mouth.

  He moves, switching to the other side before pushing my breasts together and licking and nipping back and forth until I think I might go mad.

  A sound curls from the back of my throat, fills the humid air.

  It’s like torture, sweet and exquisite.

  When he pulls away, he blows hot breaths against my nipples before sitting back and saying, “Take off your pants.”

  With shaking fingers, I fumble for the button, managing to get them open before pulling them down my legs.

  “Your panties.” He nods toward them.

  I slip them down my legs, kicking everything to the floor of the truck before sitting back.

  He reaches for me, taking one leg and pushing it wide, positioning my foot on the dashboard, so I’m open to him.

  He sits back, eyes hot on me. “Perfect.”

  I wait.

  He watches.

  I shift in my seat as heat pulses between my legs.

  His eyes flicker. “Tilt your hips up. Let me see how much you want me to touch you.”

  I’m committed now, and I have to see, no matter how unlike me any of this is. I tilt, lifting, before releasing and straining up again.

  It increases the ache.

  I’m open and exposed.

  Vulnerable.

  I’m begging again, silently in my head, the rise and fall of my hips in cadence with the heady beat of my desire. When I lift the next time, he slides a finger down my wetness, and I freeze, mid lift.

  He doesn’t continue.

  He leaves me suspended.

  A small “please” escapes my lips.

  “You’re still thinking too hard.” He runs his fingertip up and down again, nothing but a tease.

  “I’m not.”

  He leans forward and blows over my heated flesh before kissing me full between my legs. His tongue swirls over my clit, soft and gentle—a glance.

  I lift higher, wanting greater contact.

  Again he licks, before slipping down where I’m open and needy.

  My legs start to shake, and he palms my ass, helping me stay in place for his voracious mouth. Far too quickly an orgasm builds, sitting on the blade of a knife.

  I need more pressure to push me over.

  I dig my nails into his neck, but it’s no use. He just keeps going.

  Long, slow, and leisurely, his mouth slipping over me. I’ve never had a man go down on me like this before—more like a deep, moody kiss instead of the usual flicking tongue.

  I circle my hips, moaning now, my panting breaths fogging the windows.

  His tongue plays over my clit—circling, pressing, sucking.

  He hits a particularly good spot.

  I cry out, thrusting my hips against his mouth.

  His free hand slides over my mound, slipping two fingers inside and rubbing in slow circles before pulling free. He lifts, reaches behind me, and slides his wet fingers down the crack of my ass before rubbing the puckered skin.

  I jump in shock.

  I want to protest, but he presses the tip of his finger inside before I can.

  I shake my head, try to formulate words, but they don’t come. A strangled sob leaves my throat.

  He presses deeper, filling me where I’ve never been filled before.

  I want to reject it; it feels wrong.

  Yet the dirtier and more wrong it feels, the hotter I get.

  He licks over my clit.

  My head cracks against the window. “Oh God.”

  He laughs against me and wiggles deeper still before lifting his head. He works another finger inside, stretching me.

  Unable to help it, my hips move.

  Up and down.

  Straining in the air.

  Desperate.

  He shifts, his large frame blocking out the moonlight. “I think I’m going to like fucking your tight ass.”

  “No, never,” I pant.

  “You’ll see.” He leans over and whispers, “Look at how you’re fucking yourself on my fingers. Maybe we should get you something to fill your ass so you don’t forget me.” He nips my jaw. “I don’t want you forgetting how dirty this feels.”

  I can’t help groaning and pushing back, grinding my hips to increase the way his fingers move inside me.

  “Do you think you’d like that, Cat?” His breath is hot and intimate in my ear. “Wearing a plug while we’re talking to the crew, feeling it move inside you as you walk. Making you think about my cock in your ass.”

  “Yes.” The word a pant. “Yes.”

  He presses so I’m lifted, and then he strikes me, full and hard across my pussy.

  I scream, bucking into his hand at the fiery burn.

  He does it again.

  And again.

  I can’t keep quiet. I’m moaning and crying out, begging. But instead of feeling shame, I’m hungry for more.

  He twists his fingers, now buried deep, and slaps me full against the mound.

  “I’ve been dreaming about smacking this cunt. You respond just the way I hoped, just how I knew you would.”

  Pressure builds, and I’m pumping my hips, wild and wanton and reckless.

  He strikes again, and the orgasm bursts over me.

  I cry out, twisting as the powerful contractions overtake me.

  He pushes me down so his finger twists and turns inside me. He rubs my clit faster and faster until another wave hits me.

  I’m shaking all over, making crazy, inhuman sounds.

  “Fuck, yes,” he whispers in my ear. “Fucking come all over me, Catarina.”

  I can barely see straight as the tremors wrack my body, and I chase the hardest orgasm I’ve ever had in my life, throwing every single thing I have into it.

  When it finally ends, I collapse, breathing fast and furious, my body satiated and hungry all at once.

  Something catches in my throat, and the words are out before I can stop them. “Don’t you want to fuck me?” I whisper into the darkness.

  “I’d kill to slide my cock inside you right now.”

  “Then why didn’t you want to stay?”

  He pulls back and looks down at me. “I’m going to fuck you. It’s not if, but when.”

  My throat is tight. I don’t understand one thing about this. “What are you waiting for?”

  He smiles. “I’m waiting for you.”

  “But I’m here, right now.”

  “I haven’t gotten what I want yet.”

  What else can I possibly give? I clutch at his shirt, never wanting to let go. “I don’t understand.”

  “You will.” He kisses me, long and deep, and I can taste myself all over him. He releases my mouth. “And when you do, I’ll ruin you.”

  I close my eyes. “I don’t feel satisfied.”

  “Good. I don’t want you to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because good little girls never are.” His fingers twitch inside me.

  I blink up at him. “That was depraved.”

  “Catarina, we’re just getting started.”

  15

  Cat

  I’m composed.

  Sitting at my desk, working diligently.

  Not thinking about Caden.

  Or last night.

  Or the things he did to me in that car.

  Nope, I’m not thinking about any of those things.

  Not even a little bit.

  An image of my wanton behavior flashes vivid and bright, my desperate greediness filling my brain. My stomach dips, and I go hot all over.

  I fan my face, attempting to cool myself down.

  ’Cause I’m not thinking about that.

  I’m working.

  “Hey.”

  I about jump out of my chair and my head shoots up to see Gwen standing in the doorway.

  “Oh,
hi.” I wave and knock over an empty coffee mug. It clatters to the floor, rolling across the wood before tittering to a stop. I bolt out of my chair and snag it before sitting back down and plastering a bright smile to my face. “What’s up?”

  Gwen raises a brow and gets that expression on her face—all sly. “Looks like the real question is, what’s up with you?”

  “Me?” I place a hand to my heart. “Nothing. I’m working. Do you need something?”

  Gwen stares at me, silent.

  And of course, Caden walks up behind her.

  My skin flushes about ten shades of red, and I go on the defensive by yelling, “What? What do you want?”

  Like Gwen’s, his brows rise, and he smirks. “I’m surprised you woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

  I scowl at him furiously. “I didn’t! I’m trying to get some work done, and everyone keeps bothering me.”

  Gwen turns and peers back at Caden. “Is this your doing?”

  He cocks a smile at her, one that makes me go a little weak in the knees, so I’m glad I’m not standing.

  He says in his honey voice, “Now what could I be doing? I was out in the fields.”

  She grins. “You don’t fool me.”

  He laughs. “Just stating the facts.”

  I can’t even look at him. How can I? He had his fingers pushing into my ass last night, and I was a crazy person. A stark memory of him slapping me slams into my mind uninvited. I can still feel the delicious sting of it, how it made me mindless and desperate. How much I liked it.

  I grit my teeth as my skin heats again.

  This is ridiculous.

  He shoots me a sideways glance—one that makes me feel exposed, like he knows what I’m thinking.

  I’ve got to get rid of him so I can catch my breath and get my bearings. “What do you need, Caden?”

  A slow, lazy perusal down my body. “I’ve got a list.”

  Gwen tosses her hair, all cool and sassy. “I was here first, buddy. Wait your turn.”

  “Fair enough.” An easy drawl. “I’m merely the hired help.”

  I point at the door. “Can I catch up with you later?”

  Gwen waves a hand. “That’s not necessary. I’ll be quick.”

  Then, to my horror, they both sit down in the chairs across from me. Gwen bounces around, getting comfortable while Caden stretches his jean-clad legs, slumping into the chair like he doesn’t have a care in the world.