Page 54 of The Brave and the Reckless

“Do you get this wet for anyone else?”

“None of your business,” I repeated.

His hand came down against my ass in a fast slap and I squealed as the sharp sting reverberated up my spine. I felt him stiffen behind me– not in the fun way. He was waiting for my reaction, waiting for me to tell him he’d crossed a line. He had no idea that I’d been rehearsing ways to ask him for exactly what he was giving me.

“No one else. And usually not this fast,” I answered his question honestly. “I blame the costume. You put on the mask and the feminism leaves my body.”

In response, another slap hit my ass and I moaned, the searing pain morphing into an entirely different heat. His hand smoothed over my skin and circled down to my pussy. He brushed over it tenderly, pulling soft gasps from my lips, only to then deliver another slap. He repeated the whole thing, once, twice, three times, keeping me on the edge between gentle and rough. It was too much and it wasn’t enough, all at once.

“Noah, please.”

A leather glove landed in front of my face just before he thrust two fingers into me. I arched my back, pushing against him.

There’d been something deliciously wrong about his gloved touch, but it didn’t compare at all to his barefingers inside me. His thrusts came hard. The ridges of his knuckles and the precise angle of his fingertips steered me toward my climax faster than should have been possible.

I moaned and gripped the edge of the table for support with my free hand. Noah’s hold tightened around my other one, keeping me locked in place when my hips started quaking. The tension in my core clenched tighter and tighter and tighter.

“Please,” I whimpered.

“Ask me.”

Recalling my words from yesterday, I groaned. Of course they’d come back to bite me in the ass. I hated having to be polite. “Noah, would you please be so nice and— fuck.” He shifted his fingers, hitting a deeper angle that had me curling my toes.

“What do you want, princess?”

“Come. I want to come. Please,” I gasped, struggling for air.

He shifted behind me. I tried to shake strands of dark hair from my face to see, but the position made it impossible. I didn’t even get the chance to ask him what he was doing before his mouth joined his fingers, torturing me. His tongue came down against my clit mercilessly. The taut coil inside me snapped, and I dropped over the edge.

I writhed against him, and I moaned his name, and he didn’t stop touching me, licking me, holding me until I stopped trembling, slumped over the table and breathing hard. Bone-deep satisfaction unfurled inside me. I let out a disappointed whine when he loosened his grip on me and pulled my clothes back into place.

“Noah, I…” I pushed up, blinking at the hazy roomand the blurred orange glow above the door. My muscles had gone weak, my knees trembling too much to fully keep me upright. But I still wanted more. I wanted him to keep touching me and I wanted to touch him, feel him.

Noah slipped an arm around my middle, steadying me with my back against his chest. I let him take my weight, my head dropping back. I blinked up at him, forgetting what I was going to ask when his blue eyes pierced down at me.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he said, his voice breathless and husky.

“Of course,” I chuckled, “I am thePrettyAnnie Lou, aren’t I?”

His responding smirk disappeared as he pulled the bandana back over his face. “Don’t even bother with panties tomorrow.”

Just like that, my dread over having to perform four shows over two days evaporated.

I floated through the rest of the weekend on a cloud of endorphins. The new ankle braces, which perfectly fit into my costume boots, helped with the floating, too. But it was mostly thanks to my new favorite version of seven minutes in heaven.

On Saturday, Noah laid me out on that table and ate me like his last meal. He also discovered that, in that position, he could pull my dress down enough to free my tits. He grumbled something unintelligible when I pushed his mouth away from my chest. His tongue was close to making me lose all coherent thought, but I still wasn’t walking out into the park with beard burn all over my cleavage.

On Sunday, I reached for his belt. He grabbed my hands and flattened them against the tabletop instead.

“I want to see how many times I can make you beg,” he rasped against my ear in that deep Ace Ryder voice, and I almost fell apart before he’d even touched me.

“I’ll beg when hell freezes over,” I huffed, fully aware that I was making promises I couldn’t keep. Five. Five times over a total of fourteen minutes. There was a line in Ace Ryder’s official character description, about how he was known for his silver tongue. And goddamn. They had no idea.

“How are you holding up?” Zuri asked.

We’d settled into Sanny’s favorite booth in the saloon. It was fairly quiet in here on Monday nights. Most park guests visited on the weekends, and those who stayed for a couple of days tended to stay in the park until it closed, or they had dinner in their hotel. That, and the ease of access, was probably why Sinan had suggested we should have weekly dinners here. We hadn’t spent much time together in recent years. He hadn’t been home a lot, and I’d been busy, so we’d just seen less and less of each other. It also hadn’t come naturally over the last few weeks unless there was something happening. Putting in the effort felt good.

“I’m fine,” I replied, “what about you guys?”

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