Asking for Trouble

Hayden swallowed. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

He scrutinized her face a moment. “Look at you. You’re already scared. Afraid of a little pleasure, duchess? Worried you might actually like my middle-class mouth on you?”

She knew his intentions were to rile her up. Spark her temper. It worked. Once again, the need to prove he knew nothing about her rose to the surface. And maybe a tiny part of her recognized the accuracy of his words. Maybe she was afraid of pleasure. The kind of pleasure Brent might provide.

Her hands went to the hem of her skirt, drawing his attention away from her face. Very slowly, she slid the taut material up her thighs, revealing more and more of her black fishnet stockings. She watched as Brent shifted in front of her, hips tilting, chest shuddering. When she reached the point where her tights ended and she paused, he made a sound of protest. “Show me. You want to torture me? Fine. Just show me what’s at the top of those f**king stockings.”

Feeling a slight head rush over his fervent request, Hayden dragged the skirt higher and left it bunched around her hips. Apart from the rapid movements of his chest, Brent remained very still in front of her, his gaze fastened on the tops of her thighs where a crimson lace garter belt attached itself to her tights. She could see his arousal, thick and long, bulging against the zipper of his pants. She’d done that to him. Again, the heady rush of power made her bold. She stroked her hands down his chest, and circled her hips a little to show him what he couldn’t have.

“I knew it.” His gravelly voice startled her. “You walk around all day hiding fancy panties behind those expensive clothes, but you never let anyone have a taste of what’s underneath.” He ground his teeth together. “I think you’re the one who needs to be taught a lesson.”

“You think you know what I need?” She let her fingers brush over the tips of her br**sts, smiling when he issued a strangled groan. “Enlighten me.”

“Right now?” His gaze dropped once more to the material shielding her core. He gave a single, quick shake of his head. “You need a good tongue-fucking, duchess.”

Breath whooshed from her lungs, and her legs began to shake. She’d never been spoken to in such a way and the rawness of it battered her senses. The ache between her thighs had turned insistent, demanding. All the energy, the nerves that had built up inside her needed release. Now. She looked at Brent to find him watching her, analyzing, holding his breath. Without waiting for her answer, he slid forward, nearly toppling her off the bench. Gasping, she braced her hands on the wall and lifted her hips to accommodate his body as it dropped to the floor. He came to rest with his head on the padded bench, and her thighs straddling his face—a position so erotic, her breath felt trapped in her throat.

“Slide your knees just a little wider, baby,” he instructed. “Come and get your lesson.”

What remained of her pride told her not to follow his arrogant command, but the painfully aroused part of her beat it back. She needed this. Involuntarily, her legs moved wider on the bench. When his mouth latched onto her, sucking her clitoris through the material, she cried out and grabbed the back of the bench for support. “Oh, God. Oh, God.”

“Lose the f**king panties and I can have you screaming those words.”

She looked down, wondering how she could take her underwear off without standing and losing the drugging effect of his mouth. “H-how?”

“Rip them,” he growled. “Believe me, if you hadn’t cuffed me, I’d do it myself.”

After a short pause wherein she wondered if she could do something so desperate, Hayden reached down and wrapped her fingers around the fragile silk. Then she ripped them off.

It felt amazing.

“Good girl.”

She gripped the back of the bench tightly once more as Brent savored her in one, long lick. Then he returned to torture the pulsing bundle of nerves. He worried her clitoris between his lips, sucking gently, then tonguing the spot with tight, fast circles. On either side of his head, her thighs quivered so violently that the bench shook. She could feel a swift release coming, but didn’t want the sensations to peak so soon. She wanted to savor. But when he sank his tongue deep inside her, searching her inner walls for that mysterious spot and finding it, finding it, finding it, she imploded. Fingers latched onto the bench, she writhed against his mouth as he wrung every ounce of pleasure from her trembling body.

“Brent! Oh my God, Brent!”

He turned his head and sank his teeth into her inner thigh. “Get the f**k down here, duchess. I need to be ridden.”

She practically melted off the bench and onto his lap. Their mouths met in a wet, frantic kiss that made them both groan. Her fingers went to work unzipping his pants, taking a second to palm and squeeze his straining erection. His hips bucked into her hand, telling her how badly he needed his own release. She couldn’t think beyond giving it to him. Taking more for herself in the process.

“You have no idea what I’d do to you right now if my hands were free.” He bit her bottom lip and tugged. “Right now, I’d be fingering your gorgeous pu**y. Massaging that spot that got you to scream my name. Then I’d pick you up by your sweet little ass and sink you right down on top of me.”

Her heartbeat pounded wildly in her ears, hands shaking as she finally freed his erection. He looked so incredibly full, smooth. Ripe. Hayden had the sudden, overwhelming urge to bring him to climax with her mouth.

When he saw her intention, his green eyes flashed urgently. “Fuck me with your mouth, baby. I’ll do anything for it. Let me inside your sexy mouth.”

She dipped her head, let it hover just above the tip of him.

And then the doorbell rang.

Chapter Three

Please. No, no, no. For the love of God, no.

Brent watched in stunned disbelief and utter horror as Hayden’s rosy, well-kissed lips retreated from their position just above his c**k and her head jerked toward the door. Awareness intruded on her features where there had been none just seconds before. No, no, no, his mind chanted on repeat.

He ached. Holy f**k, he ached. In a completely unexpected twist, the ice princess had turned out to be a blistering-hot sex goddess who’d barely even hesitated when he told her to rip off her own panties. She’d bested him at his own game, stripped for him, giving him a glimpse at the most insanely delicious body he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing up close. And then…Christ…the way she’d worked herself on his mouth…he would absolutely, 100 percent be storing that image for future use. He needed her to climb on and finish what they’d started. Didn’t think he’d ever walk upright again until she did.

Please, if anyone up there is listening. If you make whoever is on the other side of that door go away, I will give up watching baseball. Cheesesteaks. Fuck it. Beer. Anything. Just as long as she wraps those legs around my waist and finishes what we started.

“Hayden, look at me,” he ordered, dragging her attention back to him. He lost his train of thought for a second when she turned to him, all swollen lips, messy hair, and passion-glazed eyes. She looked like a completely different girl from the one he’d walked in with. A fleeting thought swam through his mind. This girl is twice as dangerous as smart-mouthed, uptight Hayden. He shook his head quickly to clear it. “I don’t give a good goddamn who is on the other side of that door. I’m in pain, woman. Fix it.”