Page 36 of The Sadist and the Brat

“Whiskey,” he said, and held it out. “Want some?”

She reached for the flask, her fingers skimming over his. She fumbled a little, making him want to smile, and raised it to her lips for a sip. Her eyes went wide. “Wow.”

“Is that a good ‘wow’?”

“Yes.” She took another sip, her eyes unfocused. “That doesn’t taste like the whiskey I’m used to.”

“What kind is that?”

“The kind I can get at the grocery store for less than twelve bucks.”

“Then, no,” he said drily. “This is not the whiskey you’re used to.”

She handed him the flask and picked up her coffee. “You’re a booze snob.”

“I run a liquor distribution company,” he reminded her. “Occupational hazard.”

“Hmmm.”

He grinned, enjoying her, and tucked the flask away before picking up his coffee again. She had her bright hair pulled back in a loose ponytail that trailed down her back, leaving her face unframed. Her skin was pale, except for the faint flush the whiskey had left behind, and there were delicate shadows under her eyes.

“You’re staring,” she accused and drank her coffee.

“You’re beautiful,” he replied.

Her blush deepened. “Um. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You haven’t answered my question.”

“I’m not sure how,” she admitted and looked up when the waitress reappeared. “Oh, that looks great. Thanks, Janie.”

“You’re welcome,” Janie replied, sliding plates off her tray. “Y’all holler if you need anything else.”

“Thank you,” Jack said and waited until Janie had walked away. “Well?”

She kept her eyes cast down and picked up her fork. “Will you answer a question for me first?”

“If I can.”

“Why?”

He paused, his fork poised over the slice of key lime pie on his plate. “Why, what?”

“Why do you want to play with me?”

He lowered his fork. She was still looking down, and while her posture was relaxed, the tension in her voice was as clear as a bell. “Look at me.”

She wanted to refuse. He could tell. But after a long moment, she lifted her head. Her gaze had gone wary and guarded, the vulnerability he heard in her voice well shielded.

“You want to know why I want to play with you?”

Her gaze darted to the side, her throat working as she swallowed, then she squared her shoulders and met his gaze head-on. “Yes.”

Pleased that she’d found the courage to face him, he pushed his pie aside and leaned forward.

“Because,” he said softly, making sure his voice wouldn’t carry to the other diners close by, “I want to see that sassy mouth put to good use, and hear the sarcastic bite in your tone fade into screams of pain and pleasure.”

Her eyes went wide, the gold flecks in the hazel so bright they all but glowed, and he allowed himself a small, feral smile. “I want to work you over until you can’t remember my name, and make you come so hard you can’t remember yours. And when we’re all done, when you’re lying at my feet in a puddle of sweat and tears and come, I want to do it all over again.”

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