Brent frowned against her head. If anything, a girl like Hayden, money and influence coming out of her ears, got any damn thing she wanted. He focused on the second half of what she said instead. “Who’s got you feeling out of control, duchess?”
Hayden shook her head, knocking against his chin in a way he found so endearing, his throat hurt.
“Tell me so I can set them straight.”
She looked up at him then, all traces of vulnerability gone. He recognized that look. She’d worn it the night she cuffed him and slowly stripped herself of clothes, and him of his sanity. She wanted to distract him from his questions and…shit. It worked. As her attention snagged on his mouth, her body slid down low, pressing firmly into his on the way back up. He couldn’t stop himself from tilting his hips so she could feel what she’d done to him. Her fingers traced over his shoulders and down his chest, undoing the top button of his shirt, then she kissed the exposed flesh. She traced a path with her lips up his neck and over his chin, ending where their mouths met. Brent kissed her hungrily, starved for the taste of her, his inner caveman pounding his chest again as he claimed her as his own in the middle of the dance floor. When she moaned in her throat and shuddered, he reluctantly pulled away.
“I’m still pissed at you,” Hayden said, head pressed to his chest.
“Everyone’s always pissed at me. It’s just part of my charm.” He released his own unsteady breath as Hayden laughed. How he could make a joke when he felt so painfully turned-on his knees might give out at any moment, Brent had no clue. She’d needed to laugh, that’s why. It was fast becoming obvious that he’d put himself through a dozen varieties of torture to give her what she needed. When had that started? Why didn’t he want it to end?
“So you didn’t really change your mind, then? You still…?”
Brent tipped her chin up. “Hayden, look at me. I’m dancing. You think I’d dance for a girl unless I wanted her like crazy?” He ran his thumb across her bottom lip, groaning when her tongue darted out to lick him. “I guess you haven’t figured it out yet, huh? This week alone, I let you cuff me, stuff me into a suit, and inflict me with Blue-Ball Syndrome.”
Her lips quirked up. “Is that an actual medical diagnosis?”
“Yeah. It is now,” he growled. “They’re naming it after me, too. ‘I got a case of the Brents.’ People will be saying that for centuries to come.”
Hayden’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, you said ‘I let you cuff me’?”
He winked at her. When she sputtered in disbelief, he cut her off with a kiss. She sagged into him almost immediately, actually managing to knock him back a step. He caught her around the waist with his arm. “Hey, how much have you had to drink?”
…
Hayden bit her lip and looked up at Brent with mock innocence. He looked all noble and protective standing there, waiting for her answer, a concerned frown marring his forehead. It made her want to climb up his body and whisper very bad things in his ear until he cracked. She might have a few drinks buzzing through her brain, but wanting Brent naked wasn’t a product of her over-imbibing. Before she’d even set foot in the bar she’d wanted that, so she wasn’t about to let him get away with this whole honorable-policeman act. Not by a long shot.
One teeny little product of her loosened inhibitions was her sudden determination that she needed one more hot, tear-up-the-sheets night with Brent. If she agreed to consign herself to a lifetime as a trophy wife, she wanted to experience his brand of passion one more time. So she could tuck it deep into her memory bank and call on it whenever needed. The part of her brain hanging on to the cliff’s edge of sobriety warned her this was a bad decision, but she tuned it out. She needed him so bad, her body ached. Her breasts, her hands, the flesh between her thighs all begged for contact with him. He’d know what she needed, even if she herself didn’t know right then. Just knew that Brent would give it to her.
“I’ve had three drinks.”
He grunted. “More like five.”
She tried again. “How about four?”
“We’re not bargaining here, woman.”
Excited by the challenge, Hayden slid her hands up the front of his shirt, satisfied when the muscles bunched under her hands. All that power. Mine. Just for tonight.
Using his shoulders for leverage, she leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Brent, take me somewhere private. Where I can wrap my legs around all that muscle. Somewhere you can take off my teeny, tiny panties and fuck me hard.”
“Jesus Christ,” he moaned. As if acting on their own, his hands dropped to her ass and hauled her up against him. Hayden whimpered when she felt his enormous erection probing her through the thin material of her dress. “Are you out of your goddamn mind saying something like that to me in public? It’s all I can do right now not to bend you over the nearest table and fuck you senseless with everyone watching. Maybe it would teach you to be more careful with that mouth.”
Hot, wet heat flooded her, spreading between her legs. She almost had him…just one more push. “My mouth knows exactly how—”
Before the words were fully spoken, Brent began dragging her across the dance floor, scanning the bar as he went. Apparently satisfied that no one paid them any attention, he pushed through a door with an exit sign above it and pulled her behind him into a dark, empty hallway. The only light illuminating the corridor emanated from two exit signs on either end. Music, muffled now, pounded through the door, mingling with their panting breaths.
“On your knees.”
Combined with the thumping bass, the erratic rhythm of her heart beat loudly in her ears. Every cell in her body hummed in needy anticipation. She fell to her knees without a single hesitation, desperate to wring every drop of pleasure from tonight. Not just her own, but Brent’s as well. Their hands met in a tangle as they worked frantically to unbuckle his belt and lower the zipper of his dress pants. She devoured the sight of his erection, the evidence of how badly he wanted her.
He braced one hand above her on the wall; the other gripped her head and urged her forward. At the last second, just before her mouth made contact, he pulled her hair to stop her. When he spoke, his voice sounded raw and dark. “Uh-uh. First, you finish what you were going to say. Your mouth knows exactly how—what?”
Hayden’s breath raced in and out as she looked up at him from her position on the floor. He towered over her, his strength making her feel so fragile. Yet at the same time, she knew she held the reins. Her mouth, her body, represented his pleasure and they both knew it. If possible, the realization heated her even more. It made pretending the opposite twice as heady. She gripped the base of his erection in her fist. “My mouth knows exactly how you like it.”
“Keep going,” he ordered. “Be very specific or I’ll make you wait an hour for a ride.”
She flicked out her tongue and caught the tip, making Brent groan. “You like me to take it deep. As deep as I can. You like when I suck hard on the tip.”
“That’s right. Now, open your mouth and make it count. I earned it.” No sooner had she obeyed his harsh command than he guided himself between her damp, parted lips. She moaned at the smooth feel of him on her tongue even as she struggled to wrap her mouth around him completely. Unlike last time, she didn’t tease him. She’d have been teasing herself in the process, because every taste, every groan she wrung from his throat, was like an aphrodisiac straight to her brain. Her hand stroked his girth in time with her mouth, faster and faster until she felt him start to shake, and exulted in his loss of composure.
“Stop, baby. Now. Oh God, please stop.” Ignoring his request, she swirled her tongue around the tip, then sucked it hard enough to hollow her cheeks. Distantly, she heard his fist connect with the concrete wall, then he was dragging her to her feet. He pushed her back against the cool, hard surface and reached a hand beneath her dress to yank down her panties. All the while, she watched his flushed face, exulting in the desperation she saw there.
As frantic as Brent w
as to get inside her, as badly as she needed to give him relief, Hayden felt the now-familiar desire for control tingling in her limbs. She’d been spinning out of control all week, maybe her whole life, if she was honest with herself. Everyone else saw the coolly self-possessed Hayden, but truthfully, she followed the dictates of others, the stuffy world she lived in. The urge to make her own rules beckoned to her. Brent would do whatever she asked of him. If she told him to stop right now, he would, even if it killed him. While she didn’t want to abuse that honorable part of him, she couldn’t deny the irresistible need to test it.
“Spread your thighs wide for me. I’m gonna fuck you until my next thrust is the only thing keeping you sane.” He boosted her effortlessly up against the wall so she could wrap her legs around his waist. She felt him, hot and thick at her entrance, as he rolled on a condom. Then he filled her in one, hard shove that nearly pushed her over the edge. Their sharp cries echoed in the empty hallway.
“Don’t move.” Her words came out in a whispered rush, entirely of their own accord. “No moving until I say you can.”
Brent stilled, buried deep inside her. Their eyes met and the agony she saw in his almost forced her to give in, but she couldn’t deny the surge of undiluted pleasure. Having this big, robust man obey her was pure decadence. God, she needed this. How could she live without this?
“Hayden.” Teeth clenched, his voice shook. “Please let me move, baby. I can only take so much. I’m…” He released a shuddering groan when she clenched him with her inner muscles. “I’m worried…if you play this game with me much longer…I could hurt you when you finally let me… Fuck, I’m dying. This is the end, right?”
She tugged down the top of her dress, her hand clumsy. “Taste me first.”
His mouth descended on her breasts with a growl, frantically licking and sucking her nipples. Hayden’s head fell back on her shoulders, pure hedonistic bliss spearing through her system. Impaled on his pulsing erection, all but pinned to the wall while he devoured her breasts, could only be described as the most erotic experience of her life. And she had the privilege of calling the shots. Nothing compared to this lust-drunk feeling. Nothing ever would. An earth-shattering climax loomed, but she wanted to prolong this moment.
She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head away from her breasts. His eyes were feverish, glazed with need. It nearly sent her spiraling into release, but she somehow managed to hold back.
“Please,” he whispered roughly. “Please.”
She spoke through panting breaths. “Tell me what you’re going to do to me first.”
Brent buried his face against her neck and moaned. She reveled in the desperate sound. Between her thighs, his body shook like it might implode at any moment. Raw power. Leashed. By her.
“I’m going to cram your tight pussy full over and over again,” he growled. “I’m going to fuck you until your ears ring. I’m going to bite you hard. Mark you. Ruin you.”
Hayden’s orgasm slammed through her, turning her inside out. She barely had the breath in her body to tell him to move, but she somehow managed it through the waves of incredible heat. “Now, Brent. Now.”
The last coherent thought in Hayden’s head evaporated as Brent unleashed himself on her. He hooked his arms under her knees and shoved her thighs wide with enough force to make her gasp. Then the pounding began. He held nothing back, slamming into her without an ounce of mercy, grinding her back into the wall with the force of his thrusts. The slapping of flesh combined with Brent’s animalistic grunts into her neck undid her. She heard herself calling his name, her voice sounding unfamiliar to her ears. Her nails dug into the taut flesh of his brawny shoulders, her hips undulated into his unyielding drives.
“Is this what you wanted, duchess? A punishment fuck?” His teeth sank into her shoulder with a growl. “It works both ways. You punish me, I’ll punish you right back.”
Like last time, his coarse speech sent her to the brink of orgasm. She hastened toward it, powerless to do anything but experience the glorious pleasure. “Yes, Brent. Punish me. Show me what I did to you.”
Eyes lit with challenge, he jerked her off the wall. Supporting her with strong hands that gripped her bottom, he worked her up and down his rigid erection, the new position creating a slippery friction against her clitoris. With a throaty moan, she clutched his shoulders and leaned back, pumping her hips in time with his. They watched each other through the haze of lust, Brent’s sexually charged gaze hurtling her into orgasm. She struggled to keep her eyes open so she could watch him find his own release and was rewarded by his expression of absolute surrender. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, but it did nothing to mute the roar of gratification that escaped him.
No sooner had he finished than he let Hayden slide down his body to the floor. Before she could decipher his intention, he spun her toward the wall. Her palms pressed against the cool surface to brace herself as his big hand came down hard once on her bottom with a loud slap that echoed through the empty hallway, sending a wave of ecstasy through her. Then he pulled her back against his chest and held her close, breath rasping in her hair.
She didn’t have the strength to question him. If he wasn’t holding her up at that moment, she suspected she’d be in a boneless heap on the floor. Perhaps it didn’t require any examination. He’d accepted her needs without question. Allowed her to discover this new part of herself, all but abusing him in the process. She could do the same for him. And dammit, hadn’t she loved it? The sting of his hand, knowing she’d pushed him to his breaking point? Yes, she had.
Turned away from Brent, with him unable to see her face, she felt the sudden need to reassure herself about her actions. He’d been in pain. She’d…been turned on by his torment. She didn’t know how to feel about that. “I, um…I’m sorry I made you wait like that.”
“Duchess, you can mistreat me like that any day of the week,” he murmured, obviously still recovering. When she didn’t say anything for a long stretch, he turned her around to study her face. She had no idea what he saw there. Didn’t even know herself at that moment. “Hey. Look at me.” She complied. “I’m a big, bad dude. I can take it. And Hayden?” He kissed her long and hard. “Let’s get on the same page. I’m the only one who has the privilege of taking it ever again.”
Chapter Fourteen
Brent glanced over at a silent Hayden as they walked down the deserted boardwalk. Well past sundown, the crowds had descended on the casinos and nightclubs, the beach forgotten until the next day. Crashing waves combined with distant cheers from inside the casino walls. Flashing lights from the gambling establishments pulsed, creating an ambiance specific to Atlantic City. He noticed a light breeze lift Hayden’s hair and mentally shook himself. If he’d started noticing things like breeze and ambiance, he was in bigger trouble than he thought.
It didn’t help that Hayden had gone mostly silent after his declaration that he intended to be the only one on whom she inflicted her particular brand of torture from now on. Hell, he’d made that decision before tonight, but no need to vocalize that fact. If her reaction served as any indication, it wouldn’t exactly have her floating on air and singing show tunes. Apparently it was going to take some convincing that they could work. Yes, they’d started off as adversaries. Yes, they came from two completely different worlds. And, oh yes, they were as different as two people could get. Seeing each other exclusively would mean an open mind on both their parts. A lot of compromise. A shit-ton of arguing. But holy hell, if it ended the way tonight had, he’d deal with just about anything she could throw at him.
Even now, he craved her body like an addiction. It had begun almost immediately, the relentless ache to get back between her thighs. See how far she’d push him next time. He’d never been driven so far outside of his own consciousness as he’d been with his cock tucked tightly inside of her. He’d never considered himself someone who enjoyed delayed gratification. Now? Delayed gratification, party of one. Your table is rea
dy. Christ, he’d come like a speeding freight train. It had felt so damn unbelievable that it almost hurt. What happened afterward, the spanking…well, he didn’t really have an explanation for that, except that he’d wanted to punish her for making him feel so incredible. Where was the logic in that?
Logic didn’t apply to them, he supposed. They’d been two opposite magnets that suddenly switched poles and were now compelled toward the other. When it came to their physical connection, the differences between them didn’t matter. They only heightened the experience. If he applied logic to their situation, he’d probably conclude that they were wrong for each other and the ridiculous sex was a product of months of foreplay. That’s what the fighting had been. He recognized that now. He’d been goading her toward his bed since day one and thank Christ it had finally worked. Otherwise, he’d be missing out on the best sex of his ever-loving life.
So, enjoy the sex and keep it simple, right? No messy commitments…right? Yet the thought of limiting their relationship to a physical diversion made him all kinds of antsy. He didn’t want to limit them. He wanted to hear her say the words, that she was his. His to fight with. His to soothe. His to fuck. No one else’s. Hayden, however, didn’t appear to share his interest in the idea. Good thing he never turned down a challenge. Especially when she looked like some kind of mussed-up sex kitten in her clingy dress, hair tangling around her thoughtful face, lips swollen from his treatment of them, from their unbelievable treatment of his cock.
Brent released a slow breath. One battle at a time. Get her talking, ease the tension you created by speaking too soon, jackass, and then worry about getting her back into bed.
“So…Beaches, huh?” Brent cleared his throat. “What is that, some kind of chick flick?” Of course, he’d seen Beaches. Bette Midler was a national treasure. He’d keep that to himself though, in the interest of her not questioning his masculinity.