Hard Way (3 page)

She shouldn’t like this.
Crave
this.

When his cock found purchase in the notch of her pussy, he found undeniable heat. Wetness. Shuddering tingles rocked up her spine.

He thrust into her. She knew his dick without needing to see it. Length and girth, the vein up the underside that she’d licked. But fuck it all, she hadn’t felt him this damn hard in a long time. Too long. The way he filled her was enough to make her float away.

Except she wasn’t going down that easy. She didn’t want him to know how much he owned her. Couldn’t let him understand how easily he got under her skin.

This was like being new in her own body.

Her elbows flew. She tried to kick. He met every move, one step ahead of her. He managed to snatch both wrists, then twisted and pinned her arms behind her back.

The weirdest thing happened. She was pinned at all ends. The front of her shoulders to the tile. Wrists locked at the small of her back. Liam’s weight shoving into her and his cock filling her from behind.

She was more free than she’d ever been in her life.

So many sensations that she lost track. The tingle of her nipples against the lace of her bra against the cool of the marble.

He fucked her. Took her. Not making love. Not having sex.
Owning
. She’d feel bad about it tomorrow. Maybe embarrassed. That wasn’t now.

Now, she floated. His prick rocked in and out of her cunt. Wet noises filled the room. There wasn’t even pressure to come, no expectation of how she’d feel or how this would end for her. She was Liam’s and no more.

Chapter Three

Dash pulled out and hauled her off the tile. He hitched his slacks, barely yanked up the zipper. This had to stop.

Sunny’s makeup was a sloppy mess. The shredded blouse hung open to reveal her pink lace bra, so pale against the creamy brown of her skin. The braid he’d held like a leash was ragged down its long length. Dark, dark hair haloed her dainty face. Her glossy lips, the color of an apricot, were slack, but that heady defiance sparked in eyes nearly black.

So did desire. He hadn’t seen that in longer than he could recall.

When she’d hit him…

Christ. He’d never been harder.

She swayed, then held her ground.

But what he wanted—what he
really
wanted—had no place in a civilized world, let alone in a marriage on the brink of collapse. He’d been so close to simply…forcing her. Only a last, desperate grasp at sanity had prevented him from doing the unthinkable.

“You stopped,” she said bluntly, chin up, expression oddly disappointed. The fire was draining by the second.

He always knew she was beautiful, but somehow he forgot each time he left or she left just
how
beautiful. Eyes wide and mysterious, framed by inky lashes and the twin slashes of her brows. Her bow of a mouth with that slinky, placid smile. She’d been happier in years past. Joy had shone from every feature. Although he regretted that loss, he admired the wisdom she carried with such quiet maturity.

She made him feel like a little kid.

His breath heaved and his body hummed with unspent passion. “You got off lucky.”

“Why’s that?” Her voice was melodic but taunting. It grated on his nerves, adding to his edgy violence.

“For a minute there, I would’ve fucked you whether you wanted it or not.”

“You know what that constitutes.”

“Yes.”

Rather than hit him again or spew indignation, the depraved fire rekindled in her eyes. Her nostrils flared on a slow, sensual inhalation that lifted her small breasts.

He’d let go of her completely, but his palms itched to wrench and grab and
own
. He wanted his name screamed out of that gorgeous, completely unreadable mouth.

Sunny stepped forward. Once. Again. Until the fine lace of her bra barely scraped his upper abs. She was so tiny—exactly a foot shorter. Chin raised to an exaggerated angle, she stared him down. He’d always been able to best her physically, but she was so fucking clever. Mind games with her was like playing chess against a computer.

“I want it,” she whispered.

A shock of surprise angled straight to his prick. His arousal jumped as if he hadn’t forced this breather.

“You want me to force you.” It wasn’t a question so much as trying to get it straight in his head.

“Yes. But if I call mercy, we’re done.”

He cupped her chin, then slid his hand back to the thick, tempting mass of her hair. Her wince was such a satisfying reward, even as it jacked his hunger.

“And if you can’t speak?”

She swallowed heavily. “Tap out.”

“And if your hands are bound?”

“Jesus,” she breathed.

So close. She smelled of Chanel and a faint trace of sweat. Eyeliner smudged at the corners of her eyes. He wanted to go farther. Take her down completely.

“You know what? Forget it.” She poked him in the chest. A deliberate taunt. “Bring it. There’s nothing you can do to me that I can’t handle. Dish it out, big man.”

“Sunny, for fuck’s sake. Be
really
clear about this.”

She nodded, her expression solemn. “Anything, Liam.”

Her permission should’ve set him free. Instead, words bunched in his throat.
What do you want?
Apparently he’d seriously lost track. She was asking for exactly what he’d believed unthinkable.

But that reminded him of
exactly
what she wanted.

A divorce.

The hand in her hair clamped down as if of its own volition. He dragged her so fast and ruthlessly down the hallway that she managed a quick shriek. She only struggled once he’d hauled her halfway to the bedroom. Grabbing his hand and her braid, she jerked and twisted. Clawed. Shrieked again.

“Bastard!”

This time, he didn’t falter. This was Sunny, his wife, the woman he loved, but they were supercharged. Riding something dark and utterly forbidden.

Only, they were in it together. Of the same mind for the first time in years.

About this? About forced sex? He couldn’t look it in the face, only hissed when she clawed his forearm.

“Fucking slut.”

He tossed her into the bedroom and slammed the door. She landed on hands and knees on the lush Indian rug her parents had given them as a wedding gift—smiling past the protests they’d hurled like weapons before the ceremony. Sunny came by it naturally.

“Stay put or I
will
hurt you.”

He was nearly angry enough to mean it. She had him so tied up, strung inside out. Although he would never hurt her like that, and she knew it, Sunny shuddered. Her body didn’t move, but she shot glares like bullets. A promise that she was only saving her energy.

Fucking hell.

He crossed to the closet and pulled a plastic sorting container from the top shelf. Nothing felt…real. His hands were spongy. His head floated somewhere beyond his body. Numb feet carried him where he wanted to go.

Only his cock made sense. And even that eager, throbbing organ was crazed. Fuller than ever. He had an idea. And if she let him go through with it… If her taunts weren’t some elaborate show…

He pulled three zip ties and a pair of scissors from the container. Turned back.

After setting the scissors on Sunny’s vanity table, amid the girly, rather ordinary bottles and accessories, he took a deep breath. And pounced.

Knees kicked out from under her. Hands behind her back. All lightning quick. She loved martial arts, but she hadn’t the advantage of years of military training.

Like Dash had suspected, her patience was only a ruse. She fought back like a Valkyrie. Thrashing. Bucking. Cussing. Every useless struggle hit him straight in the brain. Full-blown fantasy. The roughest porn played out in their bedroom.

Once he had her fully pinned with his throbbing body, he lifted his hand before her eyes. The zip ties.

She snapped her wrists inward. He nearly lost his grip. Nearly.

“Where the hell did you get those?”

“Shut up.” He infused his voice with all the natural, distilled rage of her blunt admission. It fueled him.
I want a divorce.
Fuck that. “Shut the hell up or this gets
really
nasty.”

“You’re a goddamn liar. You don’t have the guts.”

He caught the zip tie between his teeth and threaded it into a circlet he looped around her wrists. He tightened it. She’d stopped talking, but Jesus, her breathing. She panted. A little moan escaped her throat before she seemed to remember—fight back.

He liked it when she did. Meant she was right there with him. A passive woman held no appeal. He wanted to tame Sunny, just as he always had.

Only now, her wrists were bound. Fucking Christ.

Another tie—easier this time because both hands were free. He kept a knee at the small of her back. His own breathing was insanely heavy. He practically grunted on each exhalation. His dick pressed up past his unfastened fly. But he wouldn’t strip for her. She’d always enjoyed his body too much. This was for him.

Shit, in the back of his mind, he hoped it was for her too. On some level, she wanted this too.

Zip. Another tie around her ankles.

“Liam?”

He straddled her where she lay facedown on the rug. Hand in her hair, he pulled up her head. Slowly. Slowly. He pulled until the tendons of her neck stretched to their limit—then more.

“You wanted this. And you didn’t think I had the guts.” He gave her a shake. “Next time watch what the fuck you say.”

But he needed to see. Make sure, beyond the surreal. Her dark eyes sparked with something close to anger, but they were hazy and heavy-lidded. Damn, but he hadn’t seen that much unabashed desire since they were horny college kids.

Satisfied once again—and still stunned by it—he let his impulses take over. Fully. He snagged the scissors and started at the hem of her skirt. Cutting the fabric jolted him from scalp to heel.

She didn’t move, but she poured disgust into her words. “That suit cost six hundred dollars, asshole.”

“Good thing you have your job,” he growled.

The skirt fell away like a blossom opening to reveal her sexy ass. Creamy skin was half bared from when he’d yanked down her underwear. After snipping the waistband, he used his fingers to rend her ruined pantyhose. Nylon parted, but only down to the tops of slender thighs the color of toffee. The pale pink panties he’d ripped earlier were simple to discard.

So easy to put her in such a depraved position.

He hooked her around the belly. Holding both her braid and waist, he hauled her up and made her kneel. Deliberately, he stretched the last zip tie flat on the carpet. It twanged back into a curl.

“In case I need it,” he said darkly.

Struggling against the ties, Sunny lost her balance and fell onto her side. She grunted and cussed. Dash only watched her struggle to right herself. Her helplessness was such a fucking turn-on.

Sick.

Shut up.

He pulled out his cock and stroked its firm length. She didn’t give up. Apparently she needed to be able to face him with a measure of defiance, even while kneeling, more than she minded the indignity of fighting the ties. Her hair was a mess. Sweat lined her brow.

She caught sight of Dash, prick in hand, and hissed. “Fucking
cocksucker!
”

“No, that’s your job.”

“Like hell.”

Dash only grinned. He was pumping intensely now. Probably too intense, considering how much he still wanted to do. The sight of her, so disheveled and panting, lying on her side, made him feel nasty and mean. He wanted to come on her face and walk away, to hurt her as much as she’d hurt him.

The deeper part of him, the part that loved her, couldn’t be so cruel—no matter their game. That’s what it was. A game. One a helluva lot riskier than they’d ever played.

Stalking forward, with his cock arrowing out, he yanked her upright. He angled the vanity chair to better support her back. No more falling over. She had work to do.

“You’re going to suck me. Do it well, and I’ll make you come. A reward for being a good little slut.”

“I’d rather bite it off than come. Not by
you
.”

God, she sounded like she meant it. Truth? Really good act? The effect remained the same. He got pissed.

Dash grabbed her chin, leaned down, kissed her. As if to prove her point, she bit his lip. The taste of blood snapped a wire in his brain.

“Bitch.”

He slapped her.

Holy hell.

His heart stopped. His palm stung.

But as Dash had in the living room, she only shook her head as if to clear ringing ears. Then she looked up and grinned. “Told ya. I’ll bite. It. Off.”

He lifted the scissors off the vanity table. Opened the blades. Snugged them right against her braid. “You’ll suck me, and I’ll like it, or I cut this lovely hair.”

Sunny’s midnight eyes flared open. She adored her hair. And she knew he did too. Something in his tone or on his face must’ve convinced her of the truth. Maybe it was the impossibly quiet sound of the scissors closing. A millimeter. Maybe less. A dozen strands unmoored.