Page 69 of Sexy as Sin
He was always calm, but he wasn’t calm now. And all the adrenaline of the surfing, of standing up on her bike and pedaling as hard as she could, of her confrontations with Azra’s mum and Amanda, was bubbling up inside her, silver streaks of energy that were all but shooting out of the ends of her hair. She turned on the couch, got her hands in Brett’s hair, and kissed him. Open mouth, salt water, and nothing held back.
His T-shirt was clammy and wet against her, and she yanked it up, but her hands were clumsy. He swore, low and dirty, words he never said, and she shuddered all the way to her core. He had the T-shirt over his head, and her hands were on his shoulders, running over his arms, all the way to his hands. And he looked into her eyes with no smile at all and, slowly as sinning, threaded his fingers through hers, held her hands, kept his gaze on her face, and said nothing.
Rain and thunder joining together now, jolting their bodies, but the lightning streaks inside her were all Brett. She kissed his mouth again, trailed her lips over to his ear, and whispered, “If you’re that filthy, maybe you should give me that spanking and show me. Here I am, asking for it.”
The rush when she said it, strong and dark as iron, as his body taut underneath her, and a long, long moment where the tension crackled in the air. And then he said, every word formed perfectly, falling into the darkness between them, “Take off my shorts, and then come lie down with your head on my good leg.”
Oh, bloody hell. What was she doing? Getting on her knees, that was what, with her heart drumming harder than the rain, working the clammy shorts down his legs and off him, taking care over his incisions. Kissing her way back up again, brushing her lips over the tender, healing red lines on the front of his thigh, down by his knee, at the side of his hip, and then down his lower abdomen. Loving every bit of him, knowing she was seeing what he showed nobody else. Not just the strength and the control. The fragile spots, the ones that would hurt if you didn’t touch them with care, the ones you needed to hold safe in gentle hands.
He sighed, and there was so much anticipation in it. She kissed his belly, stroked his sides, then went farther, and felt the tension in him rise that much higher as he leapt into her. “Very... nice,” he said, still under control. “But not what I asked for.”
The rain hit the roof and gushed from the gutters, spattered into the pool, and she rose to her feet, got on her knees on the couch beside him, put her cheek onto his good thigh, and lowered herself down.
He handed her a cushion. “Under your hips.”
She did it, and then, since he was right there, she ran her tongue over him, and he swore again. And his palm came down on her with a crack.
She jumped and called out at the suddenness of it, and he asked, “Too hard?”
“No.” This excitement—it was sharp as lightning. “How many times have I scared you? How many times have I... frustrated you?”
She heard the smile in his voice, right there with the darkness, as he rubbed his palm over the tender flesh where he’d spanked her, making her tingle and shift. “Too many times to count. Starting with the shark, and just about every minute since. You want to pick a number?”
She didn’t like numbers. She wantedthis.“No. I want you to pick one.”
She expected six. Ten, maybe. “Fifteen,” he said. “Sounds like a real good number. If it hurts, though, tell me. I’ll stop.”
She wanted so much. She wanted this, and she wanted—sheneeded—to come, more than she ever had in her life. “Go,” she said.
She thought she was ready. It still took her by surprise, and she jumped again. His hand didn’t come down as hard this time, and it didn’t hurt. Ittingled.Everywhere. He said, “Count. Let’s hear you count them off,” so she did it. It was so hard to focus, but if she stopped saying the words, his hand stopped, too. The tender flesh at the tops of her thighs, the swell of her bottom, one side, then, when she’d got used to it, when she was relaxing into it, the other. Her skin was tingling, and then it was warm, and she was gasping.
He stopped like he knew it had got too hot. She said, “That’s only... uh... eleven.”
His hand again, gentle now, smoothing over her. “Yeah. And it’s enough. Stand up for me, baby. Let’s go inside. You need to be on the bed for this.”
She was going to explode. Surely a body couldn’t take this much. She said, “Brett. I need... I need...”
“I know what you need.” His hand was still moving, spreading that warmth around. “Get up, and I’ll give it to you.”
The shudder this time went straight down her body, took hold, and tightened, and his hand dove, found her, and gave her a rub. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “You do need it, don’t you? Get up and go on in there.”
She did it. You could say she was in a daze. When they were standing by the bed, Brett lowered himself down on his back, straight across it, and said, “Come on up here, sweetheart, and let me take care of you.”
When she straddled him, he sighed. When his hands were on her hips, moving her up his body, she went. And when he held her over his mouth, took her over, and didn’t let her be shy? She called out, and then she kept doing it.
The woman was going to kill him. At first, he’d nearly died of frustration, and right now? He was—yeah. Dying of frustration.
But what a way to go. His mouth teasing out every shuddering response from a redheaded witch of a mermaid, his fingers digging into her hips, and her ass still pink from where he’d spanked her. Oh, yeah.
He’d promised her a long time ago that he could make it last, and it was time to do it. She could have got there in thirty seconds. He wasn’t going to let her. He wanted to wait until she was wrapped around him, and he was plunging into her. He wanted to be selfish, to take all of that for himself, to make her wait for him.
She hadn’t asked him to stop when he’d been spanking her. Now, she asked him to hurry, and then she asked him some more, and he pretended not to hear her.
“Brett.” It was a moan. She was rocking helplessly now, keening out her pleasure and her frustration. “Brett, please. Please. Let me come. Do it harder. Please. Please.”
In answer, he shoved her back and said, “No.”
Her breasts were rising and falling, her white skin flushed with effort and arousal. He said, “Not until you’re riding me. And not until I say.”
