Taming His Tutor

Chapter Seventeen

“Maintain the mystery.”

It had been a jerk-ass thing to say. Deliberately so. Bastard that he was.

But he’d been so exposed. Had felt raw. And he’d retaliated. Rejected the intense intimacy that had built between them. He’d had to push back. Push away. He’d left not long after. She hadn’t even been able to look him in the eye.

Regret tasted so bitter. Joe couldn’t spit the taste from his mouth. But it was for the best, right?

He’d have put her off the last lesson for sure. He’d probably never hear from her again. And wasn’t that a good thing? Wasn’t that what he wanted? His space?

It was best for her anyway. She’d be better off without him.

In the end, everyone was. And shit, as piteous as that sounded, it was what worked for him.

But he couldn’t concentrate on work. He’d taken extra classes just to fill in time, to try to exhaust himself, but really he’d only gone through the motions. He hadn’t bothered with dinner. Now, two nights since he left her, still restless, he went to his desk and pulled out the plans for the third gym conversion. Already he’d lined up a space in a city a couple hours away. Time to extend his reach and build his empire. Again it was a warehouse conversion. He liked the rough-hewn industrial vibe. The apartment at the top was identical to the one he had here. It had just the essentials.

All he needed.

…

Abbi clutched the bills in her hand, ready to toss them at the taxi driver. She was not backing off from this crazy plan.

Joe’s throwaway parting words the other night had crushed her. She’d made love to him—wild and frantic and desperately trying to convey with her body just how much she wanted him and liked him and yearned for things she had no business wanting…

But he’d just been treating it as another of her lessons. That she should enjoy being the boss, enjoy extracting her pleasure, that she shouldn’t be afraid of getting red and sweaty during sex, shouldn’t be embarrassed about how she looked when she was with him. And then he’d made the excuse of work, again, and left as quickly as he could.

He hadn’t understood her message at all. And she hadn’t understood the reason he’d pushed her to ride him like that. She’d thought it was because she woke some need in him. That she made him lose control and was asking her to love him. But it had been want, not love.

What a fool she was. Joe didn’t do that kind of emotion. Joe just did escape. Joe just did easy.

Well, fair enough. So would she. That’d be the last thing she learned to master from him.

She gave the guy behind the counter a vague wave and just acted like she knew where she was going. That she was supposed to be there five minutes before the gym closed for the night.

Fake it ’til you make it. She could show her confident face now, right?

And it worked. No one stopped her as she climbed up the stairs to that door marked Private. She knocked on it before she lost her nerve.

She heard sounds of heavy footsteps. Two seconds later, the door swung open.

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

He was barefoot and bare-chested. Only a pair of basketball shorts clothed him. He didn’t appear to have shaved since she last saw him two nights ago. The stubble looked good. The belligerent glint in his eyes, not so much.

“I thought I’d try some of that spontaneity,” she said quickly. Still faking the confidence. “Lesson number two, remember?”

He leaned against the doorjamb. “We’ve checked that one off though, haven’t we?”

“Yes. There’s something else I want to cover.”

“Oh?”

She narrowed her eyes and took in his slight pallor. And at the way he was blocking her from entering his studio. Was he was hoping she’d get the hint and leave? Had he really thought he could end this early? Was that what that shitty parting comment had been about the other night? He wanted out?

Too freaking bad. She wasn’t letting that happen. He wasn’t reneging on their deal. Six lessons. He liked having sex with her. She could see his cock hardening already—the outline pressing against his shorts. So she wasn’t letting him reject her now. She wasn’t going to be destroyed by him.

“Angry sex.”

That glint in his eyes flared, but he shook his head. “I only do fun.”

“No, you don’t. Isn’t sex an escape for you? A release from all that work and no play?” She lifted her chin and dared him with every fiber of her being.

Slowly, not taking his eyes from her, he stepped to the side.

“Why are you angry?” he muttered as she walked in.

“The graphics guy hasn’t got the navigation font right for the app. It’s a delay I can’t afford. All in all it was a frustrating day, so I figure I need a release.” She stepped up to him and challenged him. “So why don’t you show me how a good, hard fuck can make me feel better.”

He looked angry now. He shut the door forcefully behind her.

“You really need this last lesson?” he said. “Isn’t the app almost ready?

She unbuttoned her coat and let it fall to the ground. “I didn’t come here to talk about it.”

Her bra was cut out over the nipples, her panties crotchless. It was the ultimate outfit a woman wanting to be “well-screwed” would wear. And it was the ultimate statement of just how far she’d “come” since they started this.

Angry sex? Hell yes.

She pulled the condom from the waistband of her panties and tossed it at him. “You might want to get ready.” She turned and placed her hands wide on the wall. She didn’t want to look at him in this instant. Couldn’t. But she’d come too far to fall at this final hurdle. “Because I’m ready right now.”

She closed her eyes, unable to believe she’d just said all that. Was doing this. Brazen wasn’t the word.

…

Joe knew he shouldn’t. But he couldn’t help himself. How the hell could he not? And isn’t this what he did? Took what was offered—nothing more. Nothing less.

He stepped forward, his hand already outstretched. She looked so beautiful in all that white-edged black lace.

“This isn’t a good idea.” Why didn’t his voice sound normal? Had he suddenly come down with strep throat?

He didn’t believe the reason she gave for her anger, but there was no denying the energy crackling from her. No denying the way his body was reacting to her presence. She was like a fantasy lifted from the pages of some porno. Only better.

So much better. Shimmering. Pulsing. Real.

“Sure it is,” she said. “I just want to let go. Like you.”

One last time.

He palmed her butt. This outfit? So whorehouse. So killer. He was harder than he’d been in his life. And furious with it. The thought of her pulling this sweet, hot stunt for some other guy?

She was ready. His guts burned.

He was having it now. Her. All of her. He jerked his shorts down and kicked them off as he tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth. He snapped it on and stepped closer. Smoothing his palm over her gorgeous ass, he delved lower to cup her from behind, stroking his middle finger to check her.

He growled. Hot, slick. Sensation rushed. He wanted to do everything all in the one instant—touch, taste, take.

“What are you waiting for?” she goaded.

Suddenly fury ripped through him. He smacked his hands on her thighs, pulling them wider apart, and then lifted her up while bending his knees at the same time. Her fuck-me stilettos made her just tall enough.

He thrust hard. Shocking pleasure rushed over him. So good. Always so damn good. He wrapped his arms right around her, tight. Needing her closer. She bucked back against him, her hips meeting his in a fast rhythm.

He bent his head to her neck, breathed in her scent, her hair a silky mess.

Despite the sharp pleasure, it wasn’t enough.

He hated that her back was to him. That he couldn’t see her

response. He pulled out and spun her to face him, thrusting back inside. He slapped his hands under her butt and lifted her higher. She hooked her legs around his waist. Her head fell back; her lips were reddened, parted. But her eyes were closed.

“Look at me,” he rasped, thrusting hard with each word. “Look at me.”

This didn’t feel right. She was hot, and rubbing against him. But it wasn’t the same. He wanted the woman he’d had the other night. The one who’d made love to him. The one who’d looked at him with more than heat. So much more.

“Abbi, look at me,” he bellowed, fucking her harder. Trying to get deeper.

Her eyes flashed open. Sharp, shining sapphires. Too bright.

“Abbi.” He reached down between them to touch her clit, to send her over, sensing she needed it.

He’d stroked only a couple of times when she closed her eyes with a high-pitched cry. She shut him out even as he felt her milking him. Her actions now were only physical. It wasn’t enough.

But even as he thrust forward, trying to force for more, his own orgasm was ripped from him. He punched the wall at her side in frustration as all his energy was sapped.

He’d never known sex could feel so good.

Yet be so painful.