Page 50 of Honk if You Love Real Men (Tempting SEALs 1)

She screamed, wanting release, craving release. He worked her harder and harder.

She didn’t come.

She changed positions, letting him pound into her from the front, her legs wrapping around his middle. He was grunting now, thrusting and thrusting, their thighs slapping and slapping.

She wasn’t going to come and the more she tried, the further and further it slipped away until she was just a shell, tears streaming down her face.

“Stop,” she gasped.

Trent kept working her.

“Stop,” she ordered, hitting him on the shoulder. That got his attention. He froze. Bree pushed him away, tears of anger and disappointment falling from her eyes.

“Bree, what’s wrong?”

But she didn’t answer, couldn’t answer because she knew if she did, she’d lose complete control.

Trent watched her walk away, shock holding him immobile. But then he bent down and picked up the robe she’d discarded, throwing it on as he ran out the bathroom door.

“Bree. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she said, her hand wiping at her eyes as she went to his armchair and grabbed the shirt and sweats he’d left for her.

She was getting dressed?

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“Leaving?” he all but shouted. “What are you leaving for?”

“I’m giving up,” she said, tugging on his shirt. It hung past mid-thigh. “Throwing in the towel,” she added, bending to pull on the sweats. They were too small for him, but they absolutely hung on her tiny frame. She didn’t seem to mind. “Calling it a day.”

“Throwing in the towel on what?”

She turned to face him, and the sadness in her eyes, the dismay and, yes, the anger, made Trent want to go to her, to pull her into his arms, to hold her like he had last night. “On me,” she said softly.

But he knew if he tried to touch her she’d only run away. Hell, it looked like she was doing that anyway.

“Bree, don’t go. We’re making progress—”

“Progress?” she said. “You call what I just did to you progress?”

“You’re not afraid of me.”

“I tied you up.”

“Which gave you confidence.”

“Fat lot of good that does me when I can’t have an orgasm.”

His brows lifted. “Is that what you’re upset about? You didn’t come?”

“No, Trent, I couldn’t come.”

“Probably because you’re emotionally wrung out—”

“Stop it, Trent,” she shouted, stomping her foot. “Just stop it. Quit making excuses for how messed up I am.”

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