Untamed: Heath & Violet (Beg For It 3)

“No,” I agreed, and it sounded more like a sigh than it should have. I circled my clit and bit my lower lip. “You’d be rough with me,” I repeated his words, an aching moan in my voice, shameless.

“I’d fuck you, Violet.”

“Oh,” I gasped and shoved two of my fingers up inside of me, picturing it. A tremor jolted through me as I worked my pussy, so slick and hot.

“I’d fuck you hard. I wouldn’t be gentle. I’d fuck you rough the way you want it.”

“Yes, Heath,” I panted, not caring if he knew how turned on I was, past self-consciousness, past worrying or wondering what the hell was going on between us. All I knew was his deep voice was working such a filthy, wicked spell on me. I wanted him to keep going, keep giving it to me.

“Would you like that, Violet? Do you want me to fuck you rough?”

“Yes,” I moaned, eyes closed, fingers stroking my pussy.

“I’m a big man. My cock is huge.”

I groaned and panted shamelessly, my wetness dripping through my fingers. I’d felt him through his jeans and he had felt gigantic, bigger than any man I’d ever had.

“You make me so big,” he continued. His voice sounded strained, and I wondered if he had his cock in his hand right then. Was he stroking himself talking to me, just like I was with him? It made me even wetter to imagine it, and I bit my lip with a whimper.

“Do you think you can take it?” he asked, his voice almost harsh, guttural. “Can you take all of me?”

“Yes,” I cried out, my pace increasing. I worked my pussy, fucking myself with my fingers, getting close.

“Are you wet, Violet?”

“Yes,” I moaned my confession.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Yes,” I admitted in a whisper, so guilty and so turned on to be caught.

“That’s naughty,” he growled.

I tilted my head back, my mouth open, pushing against my throbbing clit. “Are you naughty for me?” he asked me, low and demanding.

“Yes,” I moaned, getting close, so close.

“Naughty girls need to get spanked. I might have to spank you Violet. Spank you and then fuck you.”

That was it. I didn’t know why the thought of him spanking me pushed me right over the edge, but it happened, hard and fast and my orgasm crashed over me full-throttle.

“Come for me, baby. I love the way you come.” His voice coaxed me on and I came in waves on my own fingers, slick and slippery in my own pussy. I sighed, pleasure wracking my body, leaving me warm and throbbing and yet still desperate for more.

“I can’t get enough of you, Violet,” he murmured, low and intimate into the phone.

“Wow,” I whispered, completely mesmerized by his voice, by what we had together, by him.

“So you shouldn’t come over,” he finally said.

“No,” I agreed, dazed and half-crazy over this man who’d just made me come with his voice alone.

“Now go to sleep,” he said. “And dream of me.”

“I will,” I sighed, blissed out and overwhelmed. We both sat there on the phone, silent together.

“Good night, Violet,” he whispered.

“Good night, Heath.” I loved saying his name. I loved the way he made me feel. And I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face dreaming of him, Heath like a huge warrior from the 12th century, shirtless in his workshop. What I wouldn’t do to that man.

CHAPTER 12

Heath

I felt like I had a fever. Only usually a fever made you feel weak, like you needed to lie down and rest. This fever made me restless. It powered me through killer workouts, drenched in sweat, pushing my physical limits. It made me want to stalk through the woods like a wild animal at night, searching, seeking my prey.

And I knew where I’d find it. Tucked into a little condo on the outskirts of town. Nestled into her bed, dreaming of me if she followed my orders.

And it sounded like she liked doing that.

Fuck. I was walking around hard as a goddamned rock. Violet had turned my cock into solid granite. My balls ached. Nothing helped. I felt crazy, like I never wanted food again. I wanted to suck and lick and bite and eat Violet, only Violet, for days on end.

I hadn’t felt this way since…ever. The last time I’d gotten all worked up over a girl had to be back when I was 19. I’d always been a loner, keeping to myself. I’d had sex before, but it had been the high school variety: drunk, quick and forgettable.

At 19, I’d had my first serious girlfriend. She’d been gorgeous, stunning from head to toe, and like a typical 19-year-old guy that had been enough. The wrapping around the package was so pretty I’d clean forgotten to wonder how attractive she was on the inside. I’d been young and stupid, so amazed by her body I’d felt drunk around her. And I’d shown about as much smarts as a drunk.

Good thing I’d overheard her talking to her girlfriends. I’d been heading over to her dorm room like an idiot, wanting to surprise her with a bouquet of flowers like a 17th century cavalier poet. And I’d heard her talking about someone she kept calling “the caveman.”

“I know, he’s a total project.” She’d sounded exasperated.

“I don’t know how you’re putting up with him,” one of her friends said.

“I don’t know how much longer I can,” she’d admitted. “But I keep reminding myself it’s worth it. He’s a caveman. But his father practically owns New York.”

Oh. I’d realized it was me she was talking about. I was the caveman she was barely putting up with. I’d listened to another minute of their bitchy laughter, mocking my giant size, my gruff and rough ways. Then I’d put the bouquet of flowers, crushed in my large, caveman hands, into a wastebasket and barely talked to her ever again. I hadn’t ever let her know I’d overheard her conversation. That didn’t matter.

What mattered was not getting played like a sucker ever again. And I hadn’t. I’d learned my lesson. I’d been a fool, thinking that girl had been different, despite all appearances. She’d had all the markings of an Upper East Side society viper, but I’d convinced myself otherwise. Since then, I’d tried to adhere to the golden rule. If it looked like a duck, swam like a duck, and quacked like a duck, then it probably was a duck.

I’d avoided all forms of ducks. Until now. I thought I’d had it bad back in college. That was nothing like I felt for Violet. I’d tried to tell myself that she was the worst kind of a duck in the form of a high-maintenance city girl parking her MINI convertible on the sidewalk and slipping around in heels on the snow. Sure she was hot, but not my type and sure as hell not sticking around Watson, Vermont.

I’d seen or heard about her every single goddamned day since. A week and a half now and Violet seemed to be all anybody could talk about. Violet came by my shop. Violet loves the coffee here. Violet wants you to fuck her rough.

OK, that last part was from me. But the problem was it had also come from her, over the phone, her voice sweet and needy, breathless with desire and lust. I’d talked dirty to her and she’d liked it so much she’d dipped her fingers down into her slick, hot pussy and stroked herself. Next time I wanted to watch her do it. I wanted her to tell me exactly what she was thinking about while she pleasured herself. What got her so wet? What made her come so hard she cried out, screaming my name? I wanted to know so I could do it again and again.

I’d tried to shake this, tried to talk myself out of it, but it wasn’t working. I still tried to remind myself about the duck wisdom. But maybe Violet wasn’t actually a duck. Maybe she was something else entirely.

The day after she came on her sweet little fingers for me over the phone, I drove into town. I told myself it was to check on the store. It was to find Violet.

I found her all right. At the local pizza shop, the one she apparently loved so much. Of course she loved it. It was outrageously good. I loved it, too, and often got myself a pie there. That’s what I was doing then, grabbing some lunch, and if I happened to see Viol

et, all right then.

The only problem was I found her sitting with fire warden Tom, laughing about something hilarious he said. I bet it wasn’t how many women he’d fucked. Because he’d fucked a long list of them all over the state. Not that funny.

She got less laughy when she saw me. I’d called ahead so all I had to do was pick up and pay. I was nearly out the door when she flitted over to my side.

“Hi, Heath.” She sounded breathless. Just like she had the night before on the phone. Right before she’d come, hard, having phone sex with me.