Page 100 of Reflex
His lips broadened into a smirk.“Naughty girl.”
Alle sat back on her haunches, which stung a bit.
Spook eyed her expectantly, blond brows quirked.“What?”
“What if we agreed to a deal?”
He gave her no indication of whether he was intrigued or not.He merely waited for her to elaborate.
Alle touched him mid-chest, craving the reassurance of bodily contact.“I’d consent to you whacking me with something hard enough to leave a mark, and in return you’d fuck me with the fake you.”
Spook couldn’t seem to look at her at first.His gaze kept sliding sideways.However, there was no mistaking the hitch in his breathing.
“I don’t know if that’s—”
Alle got off the bed.She rifled through her bag, came back, and dropped the vibrator and a bottle of lube onto the coverlet.Her wooden handled hairbrush, she pressed into his hands.
In the first instance, he flinched as if it were on fire.Then for an impossibly long moment his breath seemed to stall in his lungs.His chest didn’t rise or fall.“Alle,” he eventually gasped.
“I trust you, Spook Mortensen.How about you start trusting me as well?”She formed his hands around the handle.
“You’re already sore.”His gaze flitted to her reddened behind.Kneeling up, Alle glimpsed herself in the long mirror on the wall opposite the bed.True enough, the visuals confirmed it.Like her nerve-endings hadn’t done so already.
She touched her tongue to her upper lip.“Agreed.I probably won’t tolerate much, but I want to try it—for you.With you.”
Spook remained in cross-legged indecision.It knotted her up seeing him like that, and knowing she was both the cause and the solution.Alle held out her palm for him to test the brush against, but he shook his head.“I’m not sure we’re ready for this.”
“We are.I am.Five,” she proposed, holding up that many fingers.“That’s not many, but enough to try it out, right?”
Or not.He sucked his perfect Cupid’s bow lips leaving their surface moist.
“Come on, I deserve it after earlier.I talked toBang!, remember.”
“To your brother,” he instantly corrected her.“I can’t make a game out of that, Alle.”
“Then something else?What turns you on?Naughty school girls?”
“God, no!”
“Okay.How about crazy fans who slip into your hotel room uninvited and steal your clothes and lick your guitar picks.”
“Guitar picks?”He howled, until the laughter left tear tracks on his face.“You’re clueless.Also, I don’t use picks, and you are my chief stalker.You text like a zillion times a day and never take no for an answer.”
“Fine.”She grinned too.His amusement was infectious.“What should I sneak in and threaten to lick?”
Spook settled back against the pillows, which gave her a tremendous view of the full length of his body.“I don’t know.Something that means something.That’s important, or at least representative of me.”
“Your guitar,” she suggested.
“Really.Don’t.”He paled as though she’d threatened to stab him through the heart.In any case, his trademark Washburn wasn’t even in the room.Alle looked around the luxurious, if frighteningly non-descript hotel suite for inspiration.There weren’t many personal items on display.A few bits of clothing, some shoes.“I’m not licking your boots.”He had three pairs of high-tops lined up.
“No?”Spook dug his teeth into his lower lip.It didn’t mask his smile.
“No.”
Spook kept on giving her that toothy grin.
“No.Oh, come on.Really?”
