Beg for It (6 page)

At the press of her fingers on his asshole, Reese mutters a plea.

Corinne looks at him. There’s nothing teasing in her gaze now, only a fierce and focused intensity. Her grip on his cock loosens. She strokes. She presses her fingertip just inside the tight ring of muscle.

“This hungry little asshole,” she whispers. “Begging for me to fuck it.”

“Yes…” More words spill out of him, a few of them coherent but most an entreating mumble. And then, “Yes, please, Ma’am, please. Fuck me. Own me. I am yours.”

“You
are
mine.” Corinne yanks him forward again by his cock so she can get at his mouth.

Reese’s hands grip the headboard behind her. She nudges his thighs apart with hers. Her finger slides in deeper. Her other hand strokes, stopping short of palming his cockhead, and oh, thank God, because if she did that he wouldn’t be able to hold back…he can barely hold back now…the finger inside him curls a little, pressing that magic spot that keeps him begging.

“Please, Ma’am, I’m going to come, please…” He shakes, helplessly thrusting into her grip. Grinding onto her finger. “Please. More.”

Another finger pushes inside him. There’s no lube. The stretching hurts, but not enough to stop him from moaning. She’s being gentle enough not to cause any damage, but if anything, she’s holding back too much. He’s too far gone, needs more. All he can think about is the pressure in his balls. She makes circles on his prostate, pressing and releasing. Her stroking hand grips him behind the cockhead again, effectively blocking his orgasm one more time.

It doesn’t stop more precome from leaking out of his slit. Thicker now, turning white. “Oh God, Ma’am, please, please, let me taste you.”

“You’ve already made me come three times,” Corinne whispers against his mouth.

“I want to make you come again, I want to please you—”

She lets go of his cock and slaps his face. For an exhilarating, horrifying second, Reese is sure he’s going to fucking lose it, just jet all over her luscious tits and maybe even her face, oh, shit, oh, no… She slaps his face lightly again, then grips his jaw to bring his face to hers.

“It’s not about what
you
want to do to please me,” she says, “it’s about what
I
want you to do to please me. And what pleases me is when you obey.”

If ever Reese had not understood humility before, the fingers in his ass and the sting of her slap have certainly taught it to him now. If he moves, fucking onto her fingers, he’s going to come. If she touches his cock, he’s
sure
he’s going to come. And if she slaps him again, oh, fuck. If she slaps him, he might just fucking die.

Her next touch is a caress, soothing. Then she drags her palm over the wetness now steadily dripping from his cockhead. Lubed, her hand glides over his shaft. Up. Down.

Looking him in the eyes, Corinne starts up that steady, circular pressure on his prostate again. She strokes him faster. Stops. Then again, all the while slowly and firmly fucking his ass with her fingers.

“I’m going to come,” Reese manages to say, or at least almost say. Some of the words are garbled.

“Oh, yes, baby. Come for me.”

She’s no longer moving either of her hands. He’s taken over all the moving. Thrusting into her curled hand, rocking his hips to grind himself onto the fingers inside him.

His orgasm rushes like a freight train, battering him. He comes so hard that he sees stars. His grip on the headboard hurts his hands, a pain of which he’s aware but can’t be bothered to ease, not while every single nerve is firing with pleasure.

Thick white fluid spurts out of him, too many gushes to count, and even when he stops jetting, the pressure on his prostate sends a few more spasms surging through him. He wants to collapse, but even in the aftermath of that epic climax, Reese manages to keep himself upright. Still shuddering, he opens his eyes. He expects her to be smiling or maybe even laughing the way she sometimes does when she allows him to climax, though he likes to believe it’s with joy and not because she’s mocking him.

Corinne is looking at him, but to his shock and concern, tears glitter in her blue eyes. As he watches, one single droplet escapes her lashes and glides over her cheek. It takes a bit of work to unkink his fingers from the headboard, and they’re stiff and sore when he does.

He takes her in his arms, turning them both so he can cradle her on his lap. They’re both sticky, and this position sends a reminding twinge in his ass, but he stretches out his legs and tucks her against him. Corinne presses her face to his chest.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Reese asks with a kiss to her hair.

“I meant what I said.”

Her voice is muffled against him, and he has to shift a little to get her to look at him so he can ask her to repeat herself.

“I meant what I said,” Corinne says again. “I could own you forever.”

Reese brushes his lips to hers, tasting salt. It kills him that anything could ever make her cry, especially something he’s done. “Don’t you know, Corinne? You already do.”

Chapter Eight

He shouldn’t have let her get to him, damn it.

“Anyway, that’s all there is to this stuff.” Tony closed his laptop lid and then the folder next to it. “You’re really going ahead with pursuing this? I thought you said their CFO walked out of the lunch without even talking about the terms.”

He’d let Tony believe Corinne’s sudden departure was because of the insulting offer, not Reese’s history with her. As far as Tony knew, there was no history with Corinne. “She did. But when you told me about the call from their president asking to reschedule for Monday, I figured they were still interested enough to make this happen.”

Tony shrugged. “Okay. Sure. I needed to get out of the city for a few nights anyway. Breathe the fresh country air. Mmm, smell that air.”

“Wow, nice sarcasm,” Reese told him.

“What can I say, it’s a gift.” Tony grinned, then looked at the desk between them. “So that’s all the paperwork, and I have my notary stuff with me, so if they do decide to sell, we’re all set.”

“That’s enough for tonight. You can go, take a break.”

“You want me to order you some dinner?” Tony tucked away his phone and stood, all six feet five inches of him. He pushed the folder across the desk toward Reese. “I’m going to order in and veg out, catch up on some TV.”

Reese twisted to look up at him. “You’re not going out? It’s Friday.”

“I’m sure Lancaster is a hotbed of excitement if you know where to go,” Tony said, deadpan, “but tell you the truth, I’m beat. If you tell me what you want to eat, though, I’ll be glad to get something for you. There have to be some places that deliver, right?”

“Don’t forget, this is hick city.” Reese laughed.

Tony tilted his head. “It’s not that bad. There’s a certain charm to it. All the fields. The cows and stuff. I saw three buggies on the way here; that was pretty cool. I’m going to check out some like, quilt shops and stuff tomorrow. Buy me some of that…what’s it called? Red pepper jelly. You grew up here, have any recommendations?”

“Not really.” Reese stretched, cracking his neck with a wince. His back and neck were killing him, and he desperately needed a run. Or a massage. Something to help him shed some of this fucking tension.

Tony stood and, without a word, went behind Reese to work his fingers into the knots at the base of Reese’s neck. “No love for the old hometown?”

“No.” Reese groaned, letting the other man work away at the painful spots. “Shit, that’s good.”

Tony worked a minute or so longer, then patted Reese’s shoulders. “Want me to see if the hotel has a spa service or anything?”

“Remember, hick town.” Reese rolled his shoulders as Tony gathered his things.

“I bet things have changed since you were here last. Give it a chance. You might be surprised.” Tony excused himself, leaving Reese alone in the oversized hotel room.

The business suite would never win any awards for its decor, but the design was functional and practical, two qualities Reese appreciated. The king-sized bed seemed comfortable enough. He wasn’t going to sleep much tonight, he was sure of that.

His phone beeped and he snapped it up, sure it would be Corinne calling to apologize. Her boss hadn’t been too pleased about her abandoning the meeting, that had been clear. He’d been apologetic to the point of awkwardness about it.

Reese should’ve told the guy right then the entire offer had been something of a scam. How he’d never intended them to take it, that Reese been caught up in a personal issue with their haughty CFO, and the only business he’d meant to finish was the unfinished business between him and Corinne. Of course he’d said nothing like that, and of course the message was not from Corinne with her hat in her hands. She wasn’t going to apologize to him, and he ought to have known better.

The message was from Tony, double-checking that Reese didn’t want any food. He was ordering pizza and wings. Reese’s stomach grumbled. He shot back a text.

Beer?

They won’t deliver it
, Tony replied.
But we can nip down to the place around the corner if you really want to.

Around the corner was some divey looking corner bar with neon in the window. An idea struck him, and Reese tapped a query into his phone, then shot back a text to Tony.

I have a better idea. It’s a little longer to walk, but you’ll love it.

Ten minutes later they were sweating in the late September heat and walking away from the hotel. Reese shouldn’t have been surprised the old place was still in business—diners rarely seemed to go under. They might change ownership a couple dozen times, but they usually managed to survive.

He paused on the sidewalk to look up at the long silver building lit with blue lighting. The sign was different. A new logo. Same name though. Triton’s Diner had been around forever.

Tony gave him a curious look. “You don’t want to go in?”

“My dad used to take me here when I was a kid. Saturday mornings. We’d get up early. He’d make sure all my chores were done. Then we’d ‘sneak’ off to town to have eggs over medium and pancakes. Mom always knew, but she pretended she didn’t. They made the best hash browns here I’ve ever had in my life.” Reese laughed ruefully and shook his head. “It looks the same. But not.”

Tony put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. He didn’t say anything. He waited. It was one of the qualities in him that Reese appreciated most. That ability to know when silence was better than speech.

“Let’s go in,” Reese said.

Inside, the young waitress who seated them sported multiple piercings in her ears and lip and nose. Her artificially black hair was carefully arranged in a fifties pinup style, including a headscarf. A pattern of stars outlined her temple and snaked toward the back of her neck.

“Coffee, hon?” She even had the diner waitress patter down.

“Two coffees. You still serve breakfast now?”

“All day,” she said with a grin.

When she’d taken their orders and filled their mugs, Tony watched her head behind the bar and into the kitchen. He put a hand over his heart. “I’m in love.”

Reese chuckled. “With a girl?”

“I could be in love with a girl who looks like that.” Tony gave Reese a dreamy eyed grin.

The food was up in minutes. Steaming hot, eggs prepared to perfection. Hash browns glistening with grease and still the best Reese had ever tasted. He and Tony ate in companionable silence punctuated only by requests to pass the ketchup or more sugar for the coffee.

It was the most satisfying meal Reese had eaten in a long time. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then sat back in the booth and rubbed his stomach with a sigh. Tony laughed.

“Better than pizza and beer,” Tony said. “Good idea.”

“Dessert? We’ve got a killer lemon meringue. It will blow your mind.” The waitress made goo-goo eyes at Tony, who returned the look with an equally soppy one of his own.

“Sold,” Reese told her.

Tony sipped some coffee, not making a secret of how he was admiring the view of the waitress walking away. “So what’s it like, coming home?”

“This hasn’t been home for a long time.” Reese hardly ever talked about growing up on a dairy farm here in Lancaster County. He tried to hardly ever think about it.

“Got it. And growing up here has nothing to do with buying this dairy. Right.” Tony gave Reese an assessing look. “Nostalgia?”

Tony didn’t know the half of it.

“I’m trying to buy that dairy because I think I can make some money off it. The same way I’ve done with every other business I bought. It has nothing to do with where or how I grew up. It’s totally a business decision.” Reese scraped up the last crispy bits of yolk-soaked hash browns and licked the fork clean. He caught Tony’s look but very carefully gave nothing away with his own expression. Tony didn’t need to know the truth. “You have another opinion?”

Tony shifted in his seat. “I know that you’ve never dealt with any place that makes food or beverages before. Not even a restaurant. There were plenty of opportunities to get into that sort of thing, but you’ve always steered away, even though restaurants can be some of the fastest things to turn over.”