I Brake For Bad Boys (11 page)

She frowned, not quite grasping his concept, or precisely what he meant. “A fantasy world?”

He nodded slowly. “In this private, intimate world we create for the sole purpose of satiating our desires, I'll be your phantom lover who comes to you only in the dark of night to fulfill your deepest, most erotic fantasies. In this fantasy world, you can be completely open and uninhibited with me, ask for anything you want, and whatever we say or do will stay in this room and go no further. And when the freelance project at Massey is done, we'll part amicably and go our separate ways.”

The impulse to accept his scintillating offer clashed with a wealth of insecurities, and deeper uncertainties.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, staring at the enigmatic man in front of her, noticing how he'd taken great pains to transform himself into a fantasy lover, all for her benefit and peace of mind. All because he wanted her badly enough to present her with a nonthreatening, anything goes, sexual escapade, along with the assurance that nothing would go beyond what they shared in this bedroom.

She believed him.
This
Eric was so different from the shrewd businessman who balanced his more serious, executive side with a carefree, flirtatious attitude. There was nothing carefree about the lover he'd created solely for her pleasure. No, this man was as mysterious as the night, oozed raw male energy even when he wasn't moving, and was outrageously blatant in his intent and approach.

The provocative fantasy beckoned, stealing her common sense and leaving behind an explicit hunger she felt helpless to deny.

“What do you get out of this?” she asked, before she lost the nerve.

He tilted his head. “I have a few of my own fantasies I'd like to fulfill, as well.” Retrieving the brush from her hand, he smacked the flat backside against his palm. “Have you ever been spanked by a lover before?”

“No.” She quivered deep inside, admittedly feeling a little breathless at the thoughts invading her mind. Wicked, shameless visions that caused a melting warmth to cascade through her veins. She lifted her gaze back to his face, and found him smiling at her in that devastating way of his. “I'm not into pain.”

“Me either. For myself, or my partner.”

“I'm relieved,” she said, and meant it.

He caressed the smooth, wooden surface of the brush with long, stroking fingers. “But you might find it more pleasurable than you think, with the right man. I would think a light spank on such pale, tender flesh, done in a restrained way, could be very arousing.”

He walked behind her, and she braced herself for a stinging slap on her bottom, torn between panic and an inexplicable excitement, but the spanking never came. Instead, he gathered her hair back, unraveled the strands from the unfinished braid, and let the silky mass flow down her spine. She shivered and closed her eyes as he slowly pulled the brush from the crown of her head to the ends of her hair. His fingers joined in on the luxurious treatment, massaging her scalp, the nape of her neck, chasing away the last of her tension and completely relaxing her. Unused to being pampered in such a wondrous way, she couldn't contain the soft groan of pure pleasure that rose up from her chest.

“You have beautiful hair,” he murmured near her ear, his voice low, deep, and soothing. As was the palm that trailed down her bare arm in a languid, nerve-tingling stroke. “You always wear it up at work, and I never knew how long it was, how wavy and soft.”

Her breasts swelled, her breathing deepened, and she felt completely hypnotized by his beguiling monologue, his tantalizing touch.

“I love long hair,” he continued. “The way it feels grazing my naked body, and especially how sexy and erotic it feels having the strands wrapped in my fist so I can be the one in control.”

His long fingers tightened around the hair at the nape of her neck, and he gently tugged her head back, giving her no choice but to heed his silent command to rest her head against his shoulder. He brushed his warm, velvet-soft lips along her jaw, and let his teeth graze the side of her throat. Her mind spun, and she moaned.

She felt him smile triumphantly against her neck, felt the hot, damp gust of his breath on her skin. “Do you like the way that feels, too?”

Oh, yes, she
liked.
Her whole body felt alive, heavy and hot, pulling tight and aching for him. Between her legs she could feel her own slick moisture, and the steady, growing throb that preluded an orgasm.

“I also like to be in control during sex, and dominant. Even a bit aggressive. Does that bother you?”

She dampened her bottom lip with her tongue, briefly wondering if his dominant act was solely for the purpose of the fantasy, or if he always liked being in control with women. “No, that doesn't bother me.” Oh, God, his aggression
excited
her.

He released her hair, set her brush on the dresser, and turned her around to face him. Tucking a finger beneath her chin, he lifted her gaze to his. She glimpsed the hot fire in his eyes, could sense his barely suppressed restraint, and felt singed by the intimate connection between them.

“I want you to know that I would never hurt you,” he said, his tone low and reassuring. “
Ever.
Do you believe me?”

She trusted him and his promise. “Yes.”

He nodded succinctly, seemingly satisfied with her answer. “This is all about fulfilling fantasies and desires, playful or dark, but if I get too rough or go too far, all you have to say is stop, and I will.”

She didn't miss the underlying warning that he
would
get sexually demanding with her.
Dominant.
She swallowed hard, the possibilities arousing her. Oh, Lord, was she really going to go through with this wild, imaginative idea of his?

“Even right now, the choice is yours,” he murmured, letting his fingers drift away from her face. “To end the fantasy, all you have to do is tell me to go. To continue the fantasy, issue me an invitation to stay.”

Struggling with those personal ethics of hers playing tug-of-war with the simple words,
stay or go,
she attempted to take a step back from him. But in a move she couldn't have anticipated he pressed her up against the wall next to the dresser. Flattening his hands on either side of her shoulders, he leaned into her, aligning their stomachs and thighs. He nudged his rock-hard erection against her mound, and applied a delicious pressure that heightened the need clawing at her.

“Eric . . .”

His eyes glittered like burnished sapphires, and his jaw clenched tight, making him appear as dark and dangerous as the phantom lover he claimed to be. His hands dropped to her waist and slid possessively over her hips, then slipped around to grab her ass. He lifted her up onto her toes, angled her pelvis, and slowly, sensuously, ground his straining shaft against the swollen folds of her sex.

“I want to fuck you,” he growled, his words as explicit and rough as the friction of his coarse jeans rubbing against the wet, slick silk of her panties. “With my fingers, my tongue, my cock. Slow and deep, hard and fast . . . and every way there is.”

Her stomach muscles clenched in a forbidden kind of thrill, and her head rolled back against the wall in complete surrender.
Oh, yes, please.

He buried his face against her neck, and as if he had a direct link to her mind and thoughts, he released her bottom and pushed the straps of her gown off her shoulders and down her arms. The fabric slithered to the ground, leaving her bare except for her panties.

He eased back, quickly yanked his shirt over his head, and tossed the garment to the floor. Her breath hitched at the sight of his wide chest, defined by gorgeous male contours and warm tan skin she tested with her splayed palms. He dipped his head again, his damp lips sliding down her throat, and his hands finding and kneading her full breasts. His calloused thumbs raked over her puckered nipples, and then his hot, wet mouth was there, his tongue flicking over the rigid tips, his teeth nibbling the taut swells of her breasts before he suckled her, hard and strong. With each deep, suctioning pull of his mouth, scorching waves of desire rolled through her.

The pleasure was so acute, so intense, she cried out, her body pulsing for the release she'd denied herself earlier. Twisting her fingers into his thick hair, she arched into him to get closer, so beyond rational thought that she couldn't hold back the begging sounds escaping the back of her throat.

His hand slid from her breast down her torso, heating her flesh everywhere he touched. Kneeing her legs apart, he grasped the side of her panties, and with a fierce tug he ripped the insubstantial scrap of fabric right off her hips. She gasped, both shocked and inflamed by his primitive behavior.

Abruptly lifting his head from her breasts, he slanted his mouth across hers and parted her lips with the persuasive pressure of his own. He kissed her forcefully, plundering her mouth with his tongue at the same time his palm fastened over her mound and his long fingers slipped between her slick folds and penetrated her lush, weeping sex. He buried the pad of his thumb against her clitoris, expertly finessed that hard, sensitive nub of flesh, then stopped just as she was poised on the brink of a shattering climax.

She closed her eyes and shuddered at the loss of pulsing sensation that had promised her a glimpse of paradise.

He dragged his mouth from hers and whispered in her ear, “You're so tight around my fingers. I can feel your inner muscles pulling at me, drawing me deeper. You want to come, don't you, baby?”

More than anything.
She could only manage a whimper in response, and with her hands clutching his taut arms, she gyrated her hips rhythmically against his hand, a silent plea to end the sensual torment and let her soar.

He withheld what she wanted, his fingers filling her, but absolutely still. “Stay or go, sweetheart,” he drawled as his lips caressed her jaw, the corner of her mouth. “One word is all it takes to get what you want.”

Bewildered and frustrated, she opened her heavy-lidded eyes and searched his expression, which was etched with unbridled lust. She could feel the sexual tension vibrating off his body and the deep, heavy rhythm of his breathing that spoke of his own arousal as he waited patiently for her to make the final decision.

With one word from her, he was offering her the chance to explore raw, earthy, uninhibited sex, something she'd imagined in her mind in the dark of night, but had never had the nerve to instigate with another man. Her last boyfriend, Jeremy, hadn't been at all adventurous, and had been as formal and stuffy in bed as he had been working by her side during the day. But Eric . . . Eric was virile and unwavering in his prowess, and confident of the kind of pleasure he could give her. And he might be playing a dark and dangerous kind of role, but his touch was underscored with a tempered gentleness she trusted.

He wanted her permission, her approval. Her complete acquiescence. And more than anything, she wanted to lose herself in physical sensation. With this forbidden fantasy of his, she wouldn't have to worry about the kind of emotional attachments that had turned so disastrous for her in the past, personally and professionally. And she instinctively knew if she let him go, she'd regret her decision for the rest of her life. She wanted this clandestine and temporary affair, and Eric. But with her consent she knew this night wasn't going to end with her climax. No, that would be just the beginning.

“Stay,” she said, accepting her ultimate surrender to this fantasy man,
her phantom lover,
and everything else that came with her submission. “I want you to
stay.
”

A grin of male satisfaction curved his lips and he leaned into her, crushing his chest against the soft cushion of her breasts. Their mouths were inches apart, their panting breaths mingling, but he didn't kiss her. Staring directly into her eyes, he proceeded to take her where she wanted to go.

His long fingers thrust into her, slow and deep, and his thumb plied the knot of nerves between her quivering thighs until the fire inside her blazed into hot, liquid sensation.

“Come,”
he commanded gruffly, and with his sweet, searing stroke to her cleft she gave herself over to the rippling orgasm in wild abandon and a soft, keening cry.

Somewhere in her mind she heard him groan,
“Oh, yeah,”
as he wrung the last of the tremors from her body, followed by, “Oh, baby, you needed that as much as I do, didn't you?”

She didn't have the energy to answer, not that one was required when it was obvious how deprived she'd been, and how aroused he still was. She sagged against the wall, grateful for the support of his body that kept her upright. He withdrew his fingers, lifted his hand, and slid the soft, wet tip of one finger, slick with her desire, along her bottom lip.

She jerked back in startled surprise.

He didn't relent. Instead, he gently pushed the plump flesh of her lower lip down, forcing her mouth to open.
“Taste,”
he ordered.

She recognized the challenge he issued. Another dark fantasy he wanted to fulfill. She'd come this far, and while what he was asking for was something she'd never done before, she wasn't about to back down from his sexy, bold dare.

Drawing his finger all the way into her mouth, she swirled her tongue along the length, tasting the salt on his skin and her own dewy essence. She groaned and sucked him deeper, watching as his eyes dilated with sexual hunger. His nostrils flared, and she reveled in the momentary power she held over him.

“
Christ.
I can't wait any longer,” he muttered, and withdrawing his finger, he replaced it with the heat of his mouth and the thrust of his tongue, his sudden urgency nearly tangible. With his lips fused to hers, he wrapped a strong arm around her waist and maneuvered her toward the bed.