Chapter Eleven
The soft rub of his palm around her throat shouldn’t have been erotic. It was.
Brie’s breaths grew clipped, each hitch emphasizing the power he had over her. The knowledge buzzed in her mind and crowded next to the lust she couldn’t seem to control. But she didn’t have to here. Not with him.
Him.
After weeks of dreaming and days of imagining this very scenario, he was here.
The thrill of that alone ignited a frantic beat of hunger and longing she couldn’t contain. And she didn’t have to. That’s why she’d come back. Not seeking him, yet seeking him.
Yes, she’d hoped he’d be here, but Lori had warned her it might not happen. That each scene was unique, the participants random.
And he was still here. Did it mean something?
No. Not above having amazing sex.
Wild. Debauched. Totally naughty sex.
He dipped low, his presence snapping over her nerves as he hovered near her ear. Again. She tensed, waited. For a kiss? A whispered word? A command?
That wonderful scent that was only his flowed into her on a slow inhalation. She scrambled to identify the fragrance without success. It was just him.
“There are two other men here,” he told her, his breath pooling on her neck. She shivered as the heat spread over her chest, teasing her more. Her nipples ached for attention, like her lips. Would he kiss her again? Claim her with his strength?
“They’re going to watch us.” He reached behind her, the hand on her throat tightening incrementally. Not threateningly, but enough to make her pulse race harder. Faster.
There was a tug on the cloth binding her wrists before they were freed. A wave of relief collided with confusion as her arms lowered.
“I have other plans for you.”
Goose bumps sprang up on every exposed part of her flesh. How was that possible when she was anything but chilled? But the softer tone of his words managed to wrap their way around her heart. She still trusted him.
Trusted everything.
How could a location she didn’t know with a group of men she’d barely, if ever, met be a safe zone? She didn’t know the answer, but it was. And it was heaven.
The gentle urging on her arm had her standing, his hand still on her throat. She swayed, forced a hard swallow through the impossible arch of her neck. Her mind seemed to float in a sea of detached awareness.
This was freedom.
From expectations. From being in control.
From the fears that’d lined every action, every thought, every deliberate step she’d taken.
Here, in this room, she was simply his.
His thumb edged her jaw in a firm rub over her chin. She rolled her head, savoring the slow drift that was tender yet not. A soft purr vibrated in her throat as she sank into his power.
“I can’t believe you came back,” he murmured, the words brushing over her cheek. He was so close, yet she didn’t touch him. No, her hands were clasped behind her back, her chest thrusting up to him. There was strength in that too. In giving everything to him.
He skimmed his fingers down her abdomen as he slowly withdrew his grip on her neck. She swallowed on reflex, part of her mourning the loss of that possessive hold. He eased that hand around to her nape, the other hand slipping beneath the scrap of material claiming to be a thong.
She inhaled, stomach contracting. He teased the soft down of hair on her mound, that taunting awareness zinging down her pussy.
“I’m going to taste you tonight.” The promise held strong even though his tone was low. She nearly screamed yes, only her voice was gone.
“Lick you.” He slid a single finger between her folds, flicked it over her clit. Her knees bent, desire snaking out to churn with the building heat.
“Suck you.” That naughty finger of his dipped into her. Her breath caught, trapped until he drew his hand back up.
He leaned down, his presence wrapping around her. Her breaths bounced off his to warm her lips and confirm she was still breathing. Expectation crawled over her skin, sunk into her chest, embraced her hope until she could think of nothing but the touch of his lips on hers.
The kiss she’d been longing for since his last soft goodbye.
“Then I’m going to fuck you,” he whispered, each syllable peppering her lips with his promise.
“Yes,” she finally managed to say. “Please.”
His deep growl was cut off by the seal of his lips over hers. She moaned in response, mouth opening to take him in. God, yes. This. This and so much more.
He swept his tongue in, his hand on her nape holding her steady as he overpowered her. And she let him, her back dipping, muscles relaxing to melt into him. Every hard swipe was countered by a softer brush until it meshed into a wild crush of longing.
She gripped his shoulders, needing to be closer, wanting more. The freedom sang in her head and hummed in her blood. This. This. This.
Her control was forgotten as she pushed back, her tongue dueling with his. Each attack was met with a counter until a harmony was found. The rightness screamed over her senses when he gentled, slowed, frantic bleeding to savoring on a soft glide.
A hand on the small of her back urged her closer. Her hips met his on a cry of yes. His erection ran hard and firm up her lower abdomen to declare his passion. She’d been the cause of it. Her.
How could she not fall farther? Sink deeper?
She ran a hand up the back of his head, his hair tickling her palms, the strands soft yet coarse. Short. Professional. A little longer on top. Was it black? Blond? Brown?
He drew away, and her lips pulsed with each beat of her heart. Her chest heaved with the breath she couldn’t seem to catch. Words were gone, thoughts scattered as he urged her forward three steps.
He came around behind her, his hands skimming over her ribs and stomach before settling on her hips, drawing her back. She went willingly, resting into him. His shirt was almost abrasive against her skin, yet the cloth was soft. He rocked his hips, ran the length of his erection up the curve of her ass.
Her moan tore out on a rush of hunger. Want burned in her groin, the ache to be filled throbbing a demanding cadence.
“You’re stunning,” he said by her ear. He cupped her breasts, lifted them. “Every inch of you.” He ran his palms down to her pussy.
Her legs dipped, a cry escaping. She reached back, gripping his ass for support. She squeezed, torn between awe at the firm muscles that clenched beneath her hands and the slow rub on her pussy.
“Can you feel them watching you?” He drew his tongue up the side of her neck, a finger sliding beneath her thong.
Need built in cresting waves that pummeled her reservations and lifted her higher. Her skin prickled with heat, over-sensitized by the thought of being watched. Of being on display like this.
She tilted her head, hips rolling into his touch. “I like it,” she admitted. She’d analyze the implications later, but right now—it was amazing. Behind the mask, she could be this woman.
“She’s beautiful.”
The new voice put her on alert. She stilled, head turning to the sound. Jacob was still in the room somewhere. Or at least she thought he was.
“I told you.”
There. In the other corner. His image floated into her head, but she quickly shoved it out. He was nice. He’d made her laugh on the way here. He never questioned her wants or made her feel badly about them.
But Jacob wasn’t him.
She shifted her weight back, leaning fully on him. A long slow breath brought the scent of him. God. Another inhalation set her desire ablaze. He had her—again. The security wrapped around her like a gentle hug.
She could be anything with him. Even wickedly dirty.
Kinky.
This was heaven wrapped in the conception of hell. Her mother would croak in her designer pastel suit if she could see Brie now. A wicked little laugh bubbled out at the thought. She dug her fingers into his butt cheeks, rode the line of his erection.
She never imagined being naughty could be so fun.
His chuckle vibrated through her back and buzzed on her neck. “You’re loving this.”
“I am.” She didn’t have to lie.
He smoothed his hands up her sides as he straightened. He nudged her shoulder. “Bend over.”
Her chest constricted for the moment it took his command to register. He eased her forward, and she brought her hands around to find the table. The cold surface soaked into her palms and then her chest as she slowly came to rest on its surface. A series of doubts shoved their way into her head in an attempt to dislodge the high she was floating on.
Good girls didn’t do this. Good girls didn’t ask for sex. Good girls didn’t fuck.
Another deep giggle bubbled out as she spread her feet apart before he asked. She lifted her ass up, anticipation roaring through every nerve ending.
Her heart swelled with the freedom. Her pussy pulsed with the need to feel him in her. Thrusting hard. Sure. Owning her.
Her laughter changed to a moan when he yanked her thong down her thighs. Yes. That.
“Please fuck me,” she begged yet again. She didn’t care how it made her sound. Not when the only thing she really wanted was to feel his dick buried in her once again.