Page 5 of Her Bad Boy

He didn't give her any relief from all of that build up until he had sunk himself—balls deep—into her with one powerful stroke, long before she was—mentally, anyway—ready for him to do that, which was exactly why he'd done it. Her body had been readying itself for his possession since last night—hell, since the second she'd closed the door to his place after that fevered night together, if she was being truthful with herself.

But her mind had been fighting against him since she'd rolled over in his bed that morning and—minus the tequila induced haze—realized what she'd done. She was still fighting him, resisting him, wanting to match her considerable will against his—and he knew it.

As wild and hot as he was making her, he knew that her mind was railing against what he was doing. But he didn't think she'd even realized that he'd unzipped his pants until she was already arching into—not away from—him as he seated himself deep within her, her groan of indescribable pleasure proving him undeniably right and nearly eclipsing his own loud moan as her flesh surrounded him, clinging to him, welcoming him with its own exclamation of sweet, wet acceptance as he fought to keep himself under tight control. And it was an embarrassingly hard scrabble fight to do so.

It had never been like this with anyone else. He had no idea what it was about her, but she got to him the way no other woman ever had, and he'd certainly had his fill, since long before he should have. He hadn't had to resort to reciting the titles of Star Trek: The Original Series episodes in his head while he was fucking a woman since he was a teenager, and yet he'd ended up having to do it every single time he'd taken her—and what's more, he sometimes got nearly all the way to This Side of Paradise before he was able to get himself back in hand.

And this time was no different. He was just as volatile, just as raw, with her as he had been that night. Lucas had wondered if her having left him that morning—about which he wasn't happy—and refusing to engage with him once she had—about which he was even less happy—might have cooled his ardor, but he was downright ashamed to say it hadn't, not in the least. He ought to spank her for that, but he couldn't think about that now or he'd lose the fight completely.

"Look at me," he growled, rearing up, leaving her hands unfettered in any way, and gratified, deep down, when she simply left them there, even though he hadn't told her to. He grabbed her hips and, even as thoroughly mindless as he was, he was conscious of her injuries, pulling her carefully down against him, so that he could claim even more of her, splitting her even further open, legs splayed around him as she received his punishing thrusts.

"Lu—Lu—casssss!" she groaned, hands grasping at nothing as her head tossed wildly back and forth, breasts bouncing, body taut and expectant but not quite fulfilled yet.

He looked down between them at the way she opened for each of his strokes, and it was time for more episodes as he dipped his thumb into the wetness that surrounded him and delivered it to where he knew she wanted it to be, using his outer fingers to spread her lips even more fully, giving her clit nowhere to run to get away from the big pad of his slickened thumb as it settled down on top of that tiny hardness.

Each hefty snap of his hips rocked that straining, aching nub, dragging it back and forth beneath the perfect pressure his thumb maintained, and he could hear the difference in her breathing immediately, allowing himself a small, self-satisfied smile at the sound of it.

"You know what you have to do, kitten, don't you?" he rumbled.

Her eyes widened as his potent question roared through her, as if his goal was a surprise to her, somehow, but she couldn't really marshal any kind of coherent answer, even the simple one she knew he wanted to hear. "Please—no—mmm—I—uh—unnnnhhhhhh—no—"

Resistance. Even to this, which he knew she desperately wanted. But it wasn't unexpected by any means. She liked to say no to him.

And he adored making it yes.

"Answer me, young lady."

Allie squealed when he swatted her behind sharply, but that wasn't quite enough.

Somehow, he slowed everything down, making her keen in dire need. "Do you need a spanking?"

Her response was immediate. "No—no—please! Yes, I know," she answered finally, her tone rife with submission and resignation.

"You know you've earned one—or maybe even two—already, though, don't you, my girl?"

That got an incredibly mournful whimper and a frantic, much sincerer chant of "no" from her that abruptly bumped him to the next level. He was proud of the way he had spanked her. His punishments were not to be taken lightly—he made sure of that, so she had good reason to whimper. And she'd have even more reason once her ribs had healed. He'd see to that, too, he vowed.

But he didn't speed back up as Allie had thought he would once she'd answered him. Instead, he kept things at a teasingly slow, steady, unrelenting pace until he knew she was seconds from losing it.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged. "Obey me. Do as you're told. Be a good girl and give me what I want, or I will take it from you the hard way."

"No! No—no—oh, God—pleeeeeaaaaassssseee!"

Lucas watched her draw in a breath and knew that she was going to move into a scream, managing to clamp his hand over her mouth at just the right time, driving himself into her as he did so—jerkily at first because she had clamped down on him so hard he could barely move—still grazing her with that thumb at the same time, allowing her no respite whatsoever as he rode her hard, not allowing her to move away from him no matter how frantically she tried to, continuing to bring her to unimaginable heights, even as his own body was receding from hers.

She was not done until he decided she was done. Watching her surrender herself to him in that wholly intimate way was more intoxicating than any drug he'd ever tried. And he would know—he'd sampled them all.

When he could see that her body—not her mind—had had enough, he withdrew from her, keeping the hand that had been touching her intimately draped deliberately over her mons and the tops of her thighs as he reached down to retrieve her clothing, remembering that she had a tendency to get cold in the aftermath and wishing desperately that they were in his home, in his bed, where he could keep her naked and simply draw the covers up over them.

Instead, he dressed her like a child while she allowed him to do so without so much as a word. His eyes sought hers continually, questioning this unusual docility, but, although she seemed to be fine physically, her eyes were still fully dilated and she seemed a bit muzzy, not that he was objecting. In fact, he considered it a great compliment to have reduced a woman of her intellect and independence to such a state.

When he was finished, she found herself fully clothed and on his lap, again, being held tightly against him, her head on his chest as she descended very slowly indeed from the heaven he'd brought her to.

Her first coherent thought in a while was an errant one—that he seemed quite at home in her chair, although it was really too small for him. Allie pushed against his chest and he left off rubbing her back and stroking her hair, letting her sit up but not get down.

As he cupped her cheek, he could feel her blush, making her meet his eyes as he asked, "All right?" Considering the differences in their sizes, he didn't think he'd ever not wonder that after he'd had her.

She nodded, flushing even brighter. "Let me up, Lucas, please. We've just been lucky that we haven't been discovered yet by the security guard or, Heaven forbid, someone I know."

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