Taming Her Bad Boy

I gasp, faltering as my knees buckle under the scorching, consuming sensation that pulses through me. Every synapse firing in my brain is overwhelmed with the burning desire that’s boiling my blood, aching for me to give in to the fast, relentless thrusting of Cohen’s fingers as they coax my release closer and closer to the edge.

Cohen leans one hip against me, pinning me against the vanity, holding me upright, impaling me again and again with his long, adept fingers. “I won’t ask you again,” he hisses.

His thumb presses down on my clit and begins to flick it aggressively, in time with each in and out motion of his fingers. He’s through waiting, through allowing me to resist the agonizing desire that’s built up so tightly.

His sensual assault is too much, too fast. It’s consuming, and I’m unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his hands and the way the heat of his skin mingles with the slick, drenched heat of my own.

“Cohen!” I can’t contain it, and my orgasm rips through me. His hand clamps over my mouth, but his fingers don’t stop, milking every wave of release and aftershock from the deepest depths of my core.

Painstakingly slowly, his fingers retreat from inside me, and his eyes cool and soften to one of muted satisfaction and pride. “You look so gorgeous when your body’s clenched around me.”

“And you look like the cat that just ate the canary.” I push him away gently. “Do you think anyone heard us?”

“Even if they didn’t, there’s no mistaking that blush that’s in your cheeks, Vi. You wear the just-fucked look like a rockstar.”

I turn around to look into the mirror. He’s right, but that’s not what I’m focused on. It’s him, in all his smug glory. “You’re pretty happy with yourself right now, aren’t you?” I ask wryly.

“There isn’t anything I love more than making that sexy little body of yours bend to my will.” He slips his hands around my waist, hugging himself to me from behind.

I can feel his hardness pressed up against me. Purposely, I grind my ass back against it. “Bend to your will, huh?” I grind harder against him as I smooth out my hair, staring at him through the mirror. “Serves you right being left turned on like that, then.”

Amusement alights in Cohen’s eyes. “Oh, Vi, I can wait till we get home tonight, don’t you worry about that.” He leans in close, his lips pressed seductively against my ear. “The thing is, can you?”

“I turn around abruptly in his arms, eyeing him. “You don’t think I can resist you and the sexuality you seem to exude?”

“I think I like being able to control how you react to that sexuality I exude. Your words, not mine.”

It’s my turn to show amusement as I stand there, staring up at the man that I’ve loved for so many years I’ve lost count. There’s a glint of humor in my eyes this time, and I purse my lips together to contain my reaction to his confession. “You’re definitely cocky, Cohen Bradley.”

“No. Just definitely sure, Vienna Anderson.” He grins. “Or, better yet, future Mrs. Vienna Bradley.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Oh, are you wielding veiled threats, baby?” He leans down and kisses me, smirking just as obnoxiously as he did before our impromptu rendezvous.

“Not at all.” I turn around to face the mirror again, winking at him through it before getting prepared to head downstairs to the ridiculous party that awaits us. “I’m making very clear promises. There’s nothing veiled about them.”

CHAPTER THREE

Cohen

I totally understand Vienna’s frustrations with the way my mother has taken over the engagement party as though it’s her own and turned it into something ten times bigger than we ever wanted. It’s more than I ever wanted to have to go through, too, and my mother knows neither of us are big on crowds.

The thing is, I know damn well that my mother is just getting started. If we both think this party is insane, just wait till she gets her hands on the actual wedding. I’ve warned Vi about that and said I will try my damnedest to keep her at bay, but things are going to blow wide open sooner or later. It’s only a matter of time.

Maybe that’s why Vienna’s smiles and gestures all seem forced now. She must be worried about this happening all over again in a few months.

But, damn it, could she at least pretend to be enjoying herself?

The tension in her shoulders had been obvious upstairs in my house earlier, and she’d looked to be strung about as tightly as a violin string. I won’t lie, I made her come with my bare hands for the stress relief just as much as for my love of watching her shudder and tremble with need beneath my touch.

The tension has resumed its place in her shoulders again, however, and short of sneaking her into one of the bathroom stalls in this community centre and fucking her up against the wall until she can barely walk, I’m not sure how to rid her of it at this moment.

Barry Edson, or Old Man Edson as we’ve always known him, is shaking her hand beside me, and Vienna is putting on that fake smile that even a blind man could see through.

“Thanks for coming,” she says flatly to him.

I reach out and pat Old Man Edson on the shoulder. “Yeah, thanks, Mr. Edson. We’re so glad you could make it. Say hi to Margaret for us, okay?”