When I get Jenna inside, she’s shaking like a checkered flag on a windy day. I find her a towel and dry her off, peeling back her wet blouse and tossing it to the floor with a wet slap. Can’t have my little fucktoy catching cold.

Jenna’s makeup is smeared, and her mascara is streaming down her face. She’s soaked through, right to the bone. Her hair is dripping with rain, and my cum is running down her thighs.

Fuck that glam, made-up socialite look that the women I normally rub elbows with try and tout. This is real beauty: Jenna Lockhart, naked and shivering, completely at my mercy.

She has the look of a woman who’s been ridden hard and put away wet.

It makes me hard. I’m not ready to put her away quite yet.

“You’re a very bad man, Braden Masterson,” Jenna teases. Even her voice is shaking.

I toss the towel around her neck and pull her in for a kiss.

“You have no idea,” I say, twisting the ends of the towel tight. The water I’ve just mopped up off her body comes streaming back down over both her breasts.

She arches against me in tortured ecstasy.

I watch her nipples get even harder. I didn’t think that was possible, but now they’re standing at attention, dripping wet and ripe for the taking. They’re the color of a cranberry vodka.

I dip my mouth down to kiss them, one then the other.

“Oh,” she breathes, thrusting her chest out for more.

I give it to her, licking and biting and sucking away. When it comes to Jenna, I just can’t say no.

Does she have any fucking idea that she does that to me? She must. My cock pressing demandingly against her stomach is hardly something she can ignore, but the way she coos and sighs as I wrap my hands around her and tilt her backward, feasting on her tits like this, she seems so oblivious.

Oblivious to the shit she makes me feel, to the way she could fuck up my life in an instant if she tried. With all her fucking meddling, she still might.

Her mouth opens in a perfect O, shaped like it was made to stick my cock in. Surprisingly, her lipstick is still intact.

It won’t be for long.

My garage is vanity lit, with spotlights over all the classic cars I keep inside. These aren’t your granddad’s restored roadsters. They’re the kind of classics so rare and so expensive that on the books, they don’t even exist anymore.

The amount of money that I shelled out to keep these beauties in good hands would boggle your fucking mind. I bought them in invite-only overseas auctions so deep underground that they’re practically black market.

I’d give up every one of them if it meant Jenna Lockhart would just be mine.

“The things I want to do with you, Jenna,” I growl, kissing between her breasts.

“Maybe I’ll let you,” she whispers. “If you ask nicely.”

My lips shift into a wolfish smile against her skin. “I don’t ask, Jenna. I command. I take.”

“Oh,” she moans again, so breathy and sweet that it makes my cock throb. “Well then…you’ll have to catch me first.”

She spins out of my arms and takes off through the parking garage, ducking and weaving through Ferraris and Mercedes Benzes.

She’s only wearing heels and a smile, so for a moment, I just watch her go.

Then I take off after her. After all, I never have been able to turn down the thrill of the chase.

I follow the echoing clicks of her heels against the concrete floor as I track her down the way a hunter tracks his prey. Finally, I catch sight of her slipping away behind a sleek black 1961 California Spider that was supposedly destroyed in the late 70s.

It’s the jewel of my collection, perfectly restored.

I stalk her around it until she sees me.

She dodges left. I go right. I’m faster than her, stronger and more powerful, and when I want something, there’s nothing that can stop me from taking it.

I sweep her up in my arms as she tries to flee, holding her from behind while she shrieks and screams with delight.

“Okay, you caught me.” She giggles, breathless. “What should your prize be?”

“Honey,” I growl, bending her over the Spider’s hood. “You are my prize.”

Her ass looks so fine, bent over and pushed out like that, that I nearly fuck it then and there. But I want to cover this girl in my cum, milk every last iota of pleasure from her body, and then claim it as my own.

I want to make her hurt. I want to fucking break her.

I want to kiss her broken parts and hold her until they’re all healed.

I drop to my knees behind her, pressing down on the small of her back. She shoves her cunt against my lips whether she means to or not.

I take her like a man starved. She’s slick with my cum. Her cum. With us.

“Oh, fuck,” she whines. “Braden…Braden, wait. Your cum is still inside me—”

I smack her ass so hard, she cries out.

“Do you think I fucking care? I don’t know what pathetic boys you’ve been with before me, Jenna, so let me clue you in: a real man doesn’t give a fuck.”

I go down on her with renewed vigor until her pussy is spasming against my lips, soaking me with her honey, just to prove my point.

I lap it up. All of it. I pull her hair, spin her around, claim her mouth with mine, and pass our combined juices onto her tongue with mine.

“Swallow it,” I snarl as my fingers wrap around her throat. “Swallow it up like the little slut you are.”

She licks her lips as she obeys—no argument, no protest. I have Jenna exactly where I want her: gorgeous eyes glassy and glazed over, dumb from too many orgasms, obedient, eager to please, and desperate for more.

I drop my shoulder and toss her over it, carrying her off like a war prize. At the back of the garage, next to the private elevator up to my penthouse, are my trophy case and my workbench, side by side.

I deposit her in front of the case, pushing her to her knees. Trophies, medals, and ribbons tremble and flutter with the impact of her body while I grab a pair of jumper cables from my bench.

“You wouldn’t,” she gasps as I tease her nipple with the tip of one clamp.

“Maybe not,” I say forebodingly. Then, just to fuck with her, I open the clamp up and nestle her nipple between its sharp jaws, ready to snap shut at any moment. “Or maybe I will. You don’t know what I’m capable of, Jenna.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she says, biting her lip.

“You don’t sound so sure of that.”

I ease the clamp closed a little more around her nipple. Not all the way, but enough that she can feel it.

“Oh god,” she whimpers, trying to pull away. But there’s nowhere to retreat to and she knows it.

She’s so wet, I can fucking smell it as I pull the clamp away.

“You fuck around with things that are dangerous, Jenna, and you’re going to end up hurt.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she says again, this time with more certainty.

It makes my chest glow with pride. She trusts me. Maybe not outside of tonight, maybe not even outside of this moment.

But in the moment, it makes me want her—need her—all the more.

“Then you’d better fucking please me,” I say, grabbing her wrists.

I wind the jumper cables around them, binding her hands together, while I shove my cock down her throat.

She takes it beautifully—every thrust, inch after inch after inch after inch.

I watch her struggle. I watch her gag. But with every pump of my rock-hard dick over her tongue and down her throat, no matter how brutal or how vicious, she takes it.

It’s making me lose my fucking mind. You don’t hurt a girl like that. You marry her.

Christ, listen to me. Look who’s gone stupid with orgasm now.

I pull out just in time, stroking my cock to a finish while I hold her wrists over her head and pump rope after rope of my hot cum onto her beautiful face.

She looks ruined now, with my cum dripping down off her eyelashes and her tongue snaking out to lick up whatever stray drops of my seed she can find.

“Have you had enough yet?” I ask her.

She blinks, and I do her the favor of wiping the cum away from her eyes with my thumb. I let her suck it clean before she replies.

“No,” she says, her chest heaving. She looks up at me with the most gorgeous gaze of adoration I’ve ever fucking seen. “I want more…if you can handle it.”

“Oh, I can handle it,” I growl, pulling her to her feet. “The question is, Jenna…can you?”

I haul her to the elevator, a million and one ideas flashing through my head. The hard part isn’t going to be coming again, I know.

The hard part is going to be deciding how I’ll use her next.