Untamed: Heath & Violet (Beg For It 3)

I nodded at her. She looked really beautiful, even more than she had when she’d first arrived in Watson. She’d softened up. Less makeup, her hair more natural. She looked gorgeous either way, good enough to eat. But I’d take this Violet any day. All day.

“Are you not staying to eat?” She looked over at the pizza carton I held in my hands.

“Got work to do.”

“Heath doesn’t much hang out with other people.” Schmarmy and smiley, Tom came up alongside Violet. The dick even tried to put his arm around her waist. She did a quick side step, out of reach. I liked that.

“I don’t hang out with you.” I looked Tom in the eye. He knew what I thought of him. All strut and no substance.

“Let’s get back to lunch, Vi.” He tugged at her like a little kid.

“Heath are you, um…?” She looked down at the floor, a pink flush on her cheeks. Her skin was so soft. Perfect for kissing. And sucking. Or spanking. “Will you be around later?”

“I’ll be in my workshop.” I looked down at her and our eyes met for a second. She knew what I had on my mind. Life could go back to being a whole lot simpler if she stayed away. I walked out, leaving her to make her choice.

§

I was in my workshop when she came to me that afternoon. Again, she got inside without my hearing her enter. I looked up from the pieces I was welding and there she was.

Silky, golden hair cascading down over her shoulders. Slightly nervous, big eyes, watching me work. I set down my tools and flipped up the face guard on my helmet.

“You came.” I watched her. She took me in, her eyes roaming my arms. Now that I had her where I wanted her, in my workshop, I planned to put those arms to good use. I took off my work gloves, removed my helmet. She watched me, biting her lip, twirling a strand of hair around and off her finger. Around and off. She was wound up.

I walked over to her. “How was lunch?” I took that strand of hair from her. I wanted to play with it. Mine.

She sucked in her breath at my touch. And I wasn’t even touching her skin, not yet. Not like I had planned.

“Lunch was…fine.” Her eyes flickered nervously up to mine, down to my lips, over to my biceps. I liked seeing her so agitated. I liked knowing what did it to her.

“That right?” My voice came out low as I stroked her hair, capturing that lock between my fingers, admiring it like fine silk.

“I want you to know something.” She licked her lips again. She should stop doing that. I knew exactly how to stop her, too. With my mouth on hers she’d be licking my lips instead. But first I wanted to hear what she had to say.

“Tell me,” I coaxed her, my hand down on her shoulder now. She always wore such thin, gossamer fabrics, too delicate for Vermont. Just right on her, though, sliding over her curves. This shirt was a little bit see-through. Her bra strap was visible and I traced my finger along it, watching her nipple pebble in response. So quick to surface, I savored her desire.

“I want you to know, there’s nothing going on with Tom.”

I knew that. I could tell by the way she pulled away from him, the way she drew close to me. But I liked hearing her say it.

My fingers tracing a slow path down, I assured her, “I know who you belong with.” I found the curve and swell of her breast, circling a path around her stiff point.

“Who?” she asked, her breathing growing more shallow.

“You need me to show you?” I cupped her breasts in my large hands, holding her, giving them a light squeeze. She felt so good in my grasp, so soft, so yielding and feminine.

“Heath.” Her eyelids fluttered slightly and she brought her hands up to my shoulders as if to steady herself. She ran them down my muscles, holding on to my arms as she devoured me with her gaze. But then she shut her eyes again, seeming to wrestle with her response.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she admitted. “We fight and you don’t just call me and ask me out like a regular guy.”

“I’m not a regular guy.” I brushed my fingertips along the peaked swells of her nipples and she moaned from deep within. Her brain was fighting this, but her body knew exactly what it wanted.

“I don’t…” she panted, clearly struggling. I guess I could have stepped away, given her some space to sort things out. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to see how hard I could make it for her. “We don’t talk.” She continued to try to protest.

“We talked last night,” I reminded her with a wicked smile. My favorite kind of conversation.

“But we don’t, you know…”

“Talking’s overrated.” Swiftly, I dropped my lips down where my fingers had played. I took one of her stiff nipples into my mouth and sucked, capturing it between my lips. She tipped her head back and groaned as I licked and teased her bud, her thin shirt plastered to her skin. With a hiss, I brought my teeth down on it. She cried out, her hands reaching up again to my broad shoulders. Only this time she didn’t even attempt to push me away. She dug her nails in, clutching at me, pulling at my shirt as she cried out.

“I know what you need,” I growled into her chest, giving her other quivering nipple a lick. “You want me to show you?”

“Yes.” The word tore out of her with a deep ache. I didn’t need any more invitation. My hands on her hips, I swiftly turned her around. Then I pulled her ass toward me and pushed her back down onto my worktable. She lifted her head up and started looking around at me, startled.

“Put your hands down on the table in front of you,” I ordered. “Now I’m in charge.” Shaking, she placed her hands as I told her, palms down on the wood. She needed to stop fighting this, and she needed to do it now.

“There, that’s good,” I praised her, admiring how sweet she looked like that. Her ass thrust out in her jeans, so tight on her. I traced her curves with my hands, worshipping her hips, her ass, the insides of her thighs. Nervous as she was, she started warming up under my touch, melting into me. Sighs came shuddering up from deep inside as she started giving herself over to my touch.

“You look so good, Violet.” I cupped my hands around her hips, dug my fingers in on either side to tilt her ass up to me. Running my thumbs along her cheeks, I could tell she liked being held like that.

“Do you know who you belong with, baby?” I asked.

“Oh, Heath,” she moaned.

“Yes, that’s right.” Smack, I brought my large palm right down on her ass. She gasped, shocked, then groaned into my caress when I stroked her right where she stung. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I needed to own her, possess her, mark her. It was time to stop all these games, all this back and forth. It ended now. Now I’d make her mine.

“Say it, Violet.” I stroked her and she quivered under my touch. “Who do you belong with?”

“Uh!” She gave a little moan. Smack, my hand came down hard on her ass and she cried out, panting. “Say it!” I commanded.

“Heath! You!” she gasped as I soothed the sting, sliding the palms of my hands over her round ass cheeks.

Gliding my fingers down along her pussy, I rewarded her. “That’s good.” Harsher, more demanding, I ordered, “Again,” and I brought my palm down with a loud, firm whack.

She moaned, her fingers gripping the wood. “I belong with you,” she cried out.

“That’s it.” I brought my fingers right up between her legs, pressed them right where I could feel her wet heat through her jeans. Right where she’d played with h

erself last night on the phone with me. Wanton, she sighed and pushed into my hand. “Yes, give in to it, Violet,” I urged her, one hand on her back holding her where I wanted her, letting her know I was in charge. The other one pushing, pressing, pulsing right against her throbbing clit. “I know you’ve been fighting it. I have, too. That’s all over now. Now you’re mine.”

Smack, I brought my hand down again on her ass. She gasped and arched her back, pushing her ass into my hand. She wanted more, so intense in her response, her eyes half-closed, her lips parted. This woman might be the death of me.

“Stand up and take your jeans off,” I barked, taking a step back.

Shaking, wobbly on her feet, she stood up. She turned to look at me, flushed, eyes filled with desire. She hooked her fingers into her waistband and undid the button. I stood, arms crossed over my chest, watching her. I could strip her jeans off in seconds flat, tear them right off of her. Some day, I’d do that. But right now, our first time, I wanted her to dive in herself. I wanted to see her admit the struggle was over. The resisting, the pushing away. Now it was time for her to give herself to me. It was time for her to be with the man she belonged with.

She kicked off her shoes and pulled her jeans down her long, creamy legs. Then she stepped out of them and stood there, nervous, looking up at me with her wide eyes, her hands in front of her as if to preserve her modesty. There was no more modesty, not with me.

“Take your shirt off.” She hesitated for a moment, then did as she was told, pulling it up and off. She wore a pretty bra, all confection and lace. She looked like a lingerie model. But today wasn’t about admiring from the sidelines. Today was game day.

“Off,” I growled. Her eyes widened, her nipples so stiff they strained against the fabric. She liked it when I bossed her around. Good. I had a lot more where that came from, and I had a feeling she’d like it a whole lot. She reached around and unhooked her bra, her luscious mounds spilling out naked for me to enjoy.

Then she pulled down her panties and exposed her perfect, slick, gleaming pussy for me. She was so wet. She’d liked her spanking.