Tools of Engagement

“We’d win regardless,” he said quietly, seemingly memorizing her features. “What are you doing standing out here, anyway?”

She pointed a toe at the house. “They kicked me out so Slade could film his update. Hopefully he’ll be done soon; I really need to get back to sanding the master bedroom walls.”

Wes grumbled a little with mock irritation until she poked him in the ribs to make him stop.

Turning his back to the house, he leaned down to speak directly above her ear. “I need to be alone with you, Bethany,” he said gruffly. “Need you back underneath me so bad. I can’t believe I’ve only been inside you once.”

The string attached to all of her erogenous zones pulled taut in a way she’d never experienced. She’d been turned on plenty of times in her life. God knew she’d found the very bottom of internet porn during her self-imposed man hiatus. This was different. Her body was so awake and greedy, she didn’t think it would be possible to deny this man ever again.

Her skin longed to soak in his heat, to be a victim to his teeth and weight and angst. With him standing so close to her, whispering her nerve endings into a flurry, she wanted this man she trusted to love her body without constraints or rules spoken aloud or time limits.

No time limits. That would have terrified her before.

Even now, a finger of apprehension traced up her spine, telling Bethany her worst flaws would show through over the passage of time, but she ignored it.

Wes studied her face and looked as if he wanted to say something else, but Slade’s voice carried closer and he snapped his mouth shut. A playful twinkle entered his eye, though it didn’t fully eradicate the lust. “Want to mess with him?”

Lightness blew through her chest. “How?”

He winked and crouched down, picking up a small stick from the lawn. He checked to make sure the patio guy’s back was turned.

And then he drew a giant penis in the wet concrete, complete with smiley face.

“Wes,” Bethany hissed. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Wes rose and tossed away the stick, then quickly wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her up against his body. He walked around to the side of the house and positioned them behind a pine tree. “Oh, come on. Yes, you can.”

Trying not to laugh, she hid her face in his shoulder. Slade and the camera crew were slowly making their way to the backyard. They had a matter of seconds before Wes’s handiwork was discovered. Tops. “Oh God. Oh God. They’re going to see it. Smooth it back out. Do something—”

“If you’ll recall, when we first arrived at Project Doomsday, the backyard was more like a jungle,” came Slade’s voice, his boots scraping to a stop at the very edge of the bedroom entrance. Bethany clutched the front of Wes’s T-shirt and waited, a burst of laughter stuck in her throat. “Thanks to some extreme landscaping and Bethany’s executive decision to save some cash with stamped concrete, the backyard living space is really starting to come together now. I can see the new homeowners enjoying many a margarita—” Slade cut himself off. “Oh. Uhhh. That’s . . . not part of the design.”

Bethany snort-giggled and Wes shushed her through his own shoulder-shaking laughter.

“All right,” shouted the director. “Who drew the dick?”

She lost it, stumbling into Wes and knocking him backward into the side of the house. He caught her, both of them unable to hold back their amusement. At some point, they stopped laughing and just stared at each other, smiles fading. Need washed over her like foamy ocean water warmed by the sun—and it wasn’t the kind of desire that could be delayed or tempered. No. It was big and overwhelming and glorious.

“I need you,” she breathed. “Right now.”

His lids hid his eyes momentarily. “Thank God.” He chewed his lip, seeming to consider their options. “You trust me?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

A corner of his lips went up, his warm hand caressing the side of her face. “Good.” His touch dropped to Bethany’s wrist and he tugged her into the backyard, right into the throng of interns and cameramen—and Slade—who were gaping at the cement dick. “Wow,” Wes said, stepping over the wet cement onto the set of stairs that led into the bedroom, helping Bethany up behind him. “You people will do anything for ratings.”

The director glared. “Everyone take lunch,” he muttered. “Can we get this dick cleaned up, please?”

They jogged side by side down the hallway of the house, both of them bursting at the seams with pent-up laughter. When they reached the bathroom, Wes hustled her inside and locked the door behind them. The new fixtures hadn’t been installed yet, so the only light in the small room came from a sliver beneath the door. And that was a shame, because Bethany wanted to see him. She didn’t want to close her eyes and just get through it, she wanted to revel in them being together like this. Breathless and horny and lacking any shame.

Wes wasted zero time pinning her to the far wall, their hands knocking together in their haste to get his pants unzipped. Judging that he had that vital part under control, Bethany scrubbed her palms all over his abs, going lower and fondling his beefy erection through his jeans. “Oh my God.”

“What?” he rasped, stooping down long enough to yank off her yoga pants and panties, casting them aside into the darkness. A foil packet ripped, followed by the sound of latex unrolling. This was happening. They were really doing this. Having sex in a house full of people.

The illicitness of it only drove her urgency higher.

Who was she anymore?

“You just . . .” She responded to his pressing mouth, voice thready with unabashed honesty. “You get so hard so fast.”

On a muffled groan, Wes boosted Bethany up against the wall. No sooner had she slung her legs around his hips did he clap a hand over her mouth and drive his thick shaft inside of her. Without an ounce of gentleness. Her eyes filled with tears from the sheer pleasure of the rough invasion. Oh, it felt so good. Incredible. She’d been more than ready for him and she loved that he hadn’t made her wait. No games between them. Just giving and taking.

“Say that again,” Wes demanded at her ear, slowly removing his hand from its position over her mouth.

“You get so hard so fast,” she said in a rush, biting down on her bottom lip to trap a moan, because he was moving, moving, his hips rolling like a well-oiled machine.

“That’s right.” He wedged his hands between Bethany and the wall, taking tight hold of her bare butt, grinding into her and holding himself deep. “You’re not complaining about my age anymore, are you, darlin’?”

“No,” she gasped.

“No,” he echoed on a groan, pumping his sex into hers slowly, snagging her top lip with his teeth. “The better to serve you with, Bethany.”

A spasm caught her off guard, her intimate muscles squeezing around him. With enough force to make her suck in a shaking breath. “Don’t stop.” She wrapped her legs tighter around his moving hips. “Please. Please. I’ve never been this wet in my life.”

Wes growled into the crook of her neck and his drives turned frenzied. “Fuck. You did not just say that to me. I’m going to blow so fast, baby. You have to come. You have to come.”

Knowing Wes was teetering on the edge just like her was intoxicating. She almost couldn’t withstand the pressure building between her legs, his size increasing every time he entered her. Preparing for release. They were two straining, naked bodies in the dark, desperate as beggars.

She clawed at his neck, pulled his hair, dug her heels into his thrusting ass. There was no staying still when the huge stalk of his sex was rubbing her clit relentlessly and his finger was brushing the untouched ring of her back entrance, teasing it, jiggling it. God. God.

Voices passed in the hallway, the floor creaking. Even the bathroom door handle squeaked like someone was trying to turn it and Wes didn’t stop. He fit their mouths together and kissed her like they’d never get another chance. His tongue moved in time with his lower body and it was too much. Sensory overload.

Wes’s tempo turned bruising and Bethany’s thighs trembled uncontrollably from their perch on his hips. “I’m going to,” she whispered, clinging to his shoulders like a starfish to a rock. “I’m . . . ohhhhhh. Now now now.”

“Ah Jesus, thank fuck,” he confided hoarsely, slamming into her, relentlessly. “The pussy is too good, baby. I can’t hold it back.”

“Hard,” she breathed, tunneling her fingers through his hair and yanking his mouth down to hers, gratified by the animalistic way he attacked her lips. Her climax signaled its imminent arrival with hot pulses that grew more and more intense. “Put it in me hard.”

“Christ. Shut your perfect little mouth, Bethany. I’m trying not to rip the fucking condom,” he gritted, but he pummeled her faster and harder regardless, his lips moving over hers, tasting, their tongues lapping and tangling. His hold on her butt turned brutal, using his grip to yank her down into his drives—and his ferocity flipped a switch inside of her, pleasure pouring into her midsection and flooding lower, pressure building to the point of pain before imploding. “Goddamn,” Wes ground out, pressing her tight to the wall with his hips, his strong frame shaking violently. “God, baby,” he pushed through gritted teeth, breath catching. “Beautiful woman. So beautiful, you know that? You make me come so hard.”