His Forbidden Submissive (4 page)

He kissed her tat, his mouth so close to her core her entire body went rigid. A few inches lower and she’d be in heaven.

“When did you get it?”

“A couple of weeks after you left. I wanted a permanent reminder I’d been given a second chance at life.”
And getting a tattoo reminded me of the man who helped me live through the worst experience of my life.
But that was too emotional a statement for this moment.

“I like it. I like this too.” His hand moved lower and he eased her folds apart, even as he still stood there fully clothed. The handsome bastard.

He dipped the pad of his thumb into her juices before sliding it forward to stroke her clit. Every millimeter of her pussy was super-sensitive from the orgasm he’d already stolen from her, so each swipe across the tender bud was almost torturous.

He kissed the inside of her thigh, drew sloppy circles over her skin. She spread her legs wider for him, but the tease stayed clear of the place she really wanted him to venture.

“What the hell are you waiting for, Brock? An invitation? If so, consider yourself invited
.
”

He chuckled—but didn’t answer. Instead he ran his thumb between her folds. “You’re fucking sexy when you beg.”

His words made her smile. Of course he liked hearing that. He was such a guy. Maybe if she begged some more, got a little dirtier, he’d finally get the message and flippin’ take her already. “Please, Brock. Please. Lick my pussy. Make me come. Please.”

He grinned like a proud papa. “With pleasure, my love.” And finally—
finally!
—he dropped to his knees and hunkered down as if he were ready to stay a while. Knowledgeable fingertips peeled her lips apart. The second the cool air hit her clit, electricity shot straight to her core. Her pussy gushed with even more warmth, and every muscle in her body tightened.

She arched against the table, waiting, waiting.

Waiting…

Brock licked from her perineum to her clit, a long, languorous move that had her squirming like a worm on hot pavement. Pre-pleasure hummed in her belly. Her skin goose-fleshed. Once again, Brock had her teetering on the edge of ecstasy with very little effort. Was she that easy or was he that good?

Or both?

Leisurely, agonizingly, Brock finally settled in to give her clit a little more attention. He sucked her swollen bud into his mouth, jiggled it against the back of his teeth.

“God.” Her head slammed backward, whacked against the table, but she didn’t care, couldn’t care. Not with Brock’s wonderful mouth where it was, doing what it was doing.

He pulled back but only long enough to change the focus of his attention. His tongue jammed into her sex, working her hard, pushing her until she could hardly breathe.

She clawed at the table, thrust her hips to meet his torment, and when he shifted his attention back to her clit, he slipped a finger or two inside her. He skimmed the top edge of her channel until he found the little bundle of nerves deep inside her.

“Brock…” She wrapped her hands around his head, pulled him harder against her pussy, arched mercilessly into him. “God. Yes, yes. Yeeeeees!”

Ecstasy exploded in her belly. She wrapped her legs around him and pressed him even harder against her sex. And Brock—bless him—kept right on eating her, drawing pleasure from her as if he’d been created to make women scream his name, to make
her
scream
his
name.

Or maybe he always smolders this hot.

She immediately silenced the nagging voice.

“Brock, Brock, Brock, Brock…” She mumbled his name over and over and over as she fluttered in the realm between reality and ecstasy. “Brock.”

“Damn that was incredible,” he said against her heat.

“Isn’t that,” she panted, “that my line?”

“No way. Your pussy’s quite spectacular, so wonderfully wet.” He gave her one more perineum-to-clit lick, looking up at her through dark lashes. “I bet it’d feel fucking incredible around my cock.”

“Well, why don’t you get up here and test out that theory?” She reached for him. “I’ve waited for you long enough.”

He pushed to his feet, his incredible mouth inching closer and closer and closer to hers until…

“So I wasn’t the only one impatiently waiting for this moment, I see.”

“No sir. Absolutely not.”

Brock froze, Viv’s words reaching right into his chest and branding themselves into his soul.

She’d fucking called him Sir. Sheer coincidence on her part, no doubt, but for him, that word from her lips was pure heaven.
Sir.
It made him think long-term, of a future where he’d admitted his sexual preference for domination, submission and everything they encompassed, and she’d embraced him wholeheartedly. A future where she’d opened both her body and her mind to him completely, unapologetically, his partner in every possible meaning of the word.

Cradling her cheek with his palm, he let his imagination run wild. Visions of a future where she accepted him for everything he was filtered through his mind, a time where guilt over betraying his brother wouldn’t blacken every moment Brock and Viv had together. Could there ever be a future where they could grow old together, a Dom and his forbidden submissive?

He fucking hoped so.

They’d talked a great deal during her treatments. He’d told her things he’d never told anyone, things he still hadn’t told anyone else. He’d confessed to some of the idiotic things he’d done in his youth, about his indiscretions, and she’d never,
ever
once shown any hint of looking down on him. She’d seemed to accept him as he was, without any reservations. But would she if she knew the truth about his sexual preferences?

That had been the one topic he’d always stayed away from.
Sex.
Not because he was ashamed of his BDSM lifestyle, but because talking to Viv about sex would probably have done him in—in every possible sense of the word. But he couldn’t keep that aspect of himself away from her much longer, especially since they were on the verge of becoming lovers.

He had to make a choice. Did he keep hiding that part of himself away? Or did he tell her the truth and just hope for the best?

Or maybe, he could push the thoughts and questions away for a little while longer. Ride the torrent of emotions threatening to drown him and see where he was when he was finally able to come up for breath.

He drew a knuckle across Viv’s jaw. The only thing he knew for sure was he didn’t want anything taking away from the beauty of this moment. He wanted to feel Viv wrapped around every inch of him. He’d take what he could from her, even if a true future together were impossible.

“Not that you don’t look luscious all laid out on my table, but I can think of a place you’ll look fucking spectacular.”

“And where’s that?”

“My bed.”

Brock swept Viv into his arms and hurried toward the stairs. Even with her in his arms, he took the steps two at a time. Somewhere on the trip, Viv’s mouth found his. Her tongue stroked between his lips, played with his tongue, and by the time he laid her on the mattress, his cock throbbed with a need so strong he feared he’d erupt on insertion.

He needed to slow things back down. But how was he supposed to do that when Vivian was naked on his fucking bed?

Taking his time, he pulled his t-shirt over his head then stepped out of his jeans. He took even more time retrieving a condom from the drawer beside his bed and rolling it onto his erection.

“Brock…” Viv pushed onto an elbow and reached for him with the opposite arm. He took her outstretched hand in his and let her pull him down onto her. Their mouths connected instantly in a kiss hot enough to singe him to the depths of his soul. She opened her arms for him, her legs, her entire body. Would she be so sexually inviting if she knew the kind of sex he normally indulged in?

Probably not. She’d most likely run in terror.

The thought punched him in the gut so hard his body went rigid from the emotional blow.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered, her palm pressing against his cheek.

“Nothing, love. Absolutely nothing.”

She obviously didn’t buy his lie. “Then why’d you go all stiff? What happened?”

He tried to conjure a more believable fib, but he couldn’t. Instead, he ignored her second question. Lord knew he couldn’t tell her the truth. Not now. Not when his cock was snuggled so splendidly against her pussy.

Pushing onto his arms, he ordered, “Guide me inside you.”

Hesitation seized her features, but only for a second before her delicate fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft and directed his head into her moist, wet heat. His eyes threatened to roll back in his head, but somehow he found the will to keep his gaze on her as he breached her, fitting their bodies together like two erotic jigsaw pieces.

“Brock,” she murmured. Her hands moved to his arms. Her manicured nails dug into his biceps. Her gaze stayed locked on his.

He withdrew and then held her on the flare of his shaft for a long, torturous moment before filling her again, her heat almost scorching his cock. He repeated the agonizing sequence but slower this time, holding off the orgasm boiling in his balls.

“Please, Brock.” Viv moved against him, tugging at him. “I need you closer.”

Against his better judgment, he dropped onto his elbows and settled into a slow, languid pace. Her legs, her arms wrapped around him, pulling at him with such force he had no choice but to surrender to her. Not that it was fucking hard to do, which was slightly odd for a Dom like him, but Viv was no random sub either.

She cradled the back of his head in her hand and traced the curve of his jaw with her tongue. “More, Brock. Please. Harder. Don’t hold back. Not now…”

Don’t hold back? Had he done something to make her suspect he was? Or were her words a general “fuck me harder” kind of thing and only had one purpose? Telling him to stop dicking around and fuck the shit out of her. If so, he could most certainly do that.

He pushed onto his hands and then immediately rammed home. He forced his cock into her with all the power he could muster. With hot, deep strokes he pounded her, pushed her closer and closer to another orgasm, took him closer too.

Slap, slap, slap.

“God yes.” Viv cinched her legs around him, arched into him, clung to him with her lithe little body. “Fuck.”

The vulgar word made him smile. Not that he’d never heard her say such things—hell, she’d asked him to “fuck her” moments earlier—but
fuck
was a word he so seldom heard from her sexy mouth. He wanted to hear it more, every day for the rest of his damn life.

He took her with every ounce of power and strength he possessed, with all the love he’d never been able to purge. “Viv.” His voice barely sounded like his own, too deep, too breathy and way too soaked with emotion. “My Viv.”

She screamed as her orgasm exploded around his cock, her pussy quivering uncontrollably. Her sex was so wet, so hot, so damn perfect it sent him rocketing toward the edge to join her, but he wasn’t quite ready yet.

He slowed his pummeling—the hardest fucking thing he’d ever done—and stared at his lover. Her head jammed back into the pillow, showing off her beautiful neck. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth hung open as her orgasm consumed her. Pants and mewls of pleasure slithered between her lips.

He could fucking watch her come all day.

When her body finally went soft, sweaty and boneless on the mattress below him, he forced his right hand between them. The angle was terrible, but it didn’t take him long to find her clit. Eager fingers stroked the bud until—

“Fuuuuuck!”
Her body still so sensitive, the simple touch set her off again. Just like he’d hoped. “Brock,” she panted, groaned, moaned. Over and over and over. Completely lost in the land of Eroticaville. And all because of
him
,
his
touch.

Finally, after all the years of pretending, Vivian Michaels was hot and wet for
him
. The thought kept his hips pumping, forcing her climax so high every muscle in her body went rigid. And he wasn’t far behind her. Two more thrusts and he was done.

He tossed his head back and cried out her name, his cock erupting in a fiery rush of pleasure, filling the condom he wore. The world shifted on its axis, and he plunged into a realm where only gratification and Viv existed. Hot, intense pleasure with the only woman he’d ever truly loved, joined in the oldest, most personal way ever conceived. With such a perfect, intense moment binding them together, it was easy to believe their connection was strong enough to withstand anything life might throw at them. His lifestyle. Her divorce. Or even the secret he’d promised his brother he’d take to the grave.

Chapter Three

Vivian lay pressed to Brock’s side, his arms and down comforter wrapped securely around her. It felt as if her brain were wrapped in a thick, pleasurable blanket of fog, and happiness saturated every atom of her listless body, her mind so fuzzy and barely functional she could hardly form coherent thoughts.

But she’d never been more alive.

Her.

Brock.

Finally!

Every erotic detail of the encounter crashed back in a tidal wave of memories. She couldn’t help but smile against his chest until her cheeks hurt. Her plan. Her arrival. Her proposition. His acceptance. The table. The bedroom. The multiple orgasms.

Oh my.

All her questions, all her doubts had been answered in one glorious coupling. She most certainly loved Brock. No way in hell what she was feeling now could be classified as chemo-induced anything.

She snuggled closer. She’d probably burrow right into his body if she could. In all the time she’d spent in his arms before now, it had never been body-to-naked-body. There’d been hospital beds, IVs, chemo and a bastard of a husband between them. But there was nothing between them now. At least she didn’t think there should be.

So why did it feel as if there was?

Something deep inside was screaming at her. She knew Brock cared for her. She could feel that in every caress, every kiss, but something kept eating away at her. She couldn’t explain it but something had been off. Not the entire time, just from when they’d made it into the bedroom.

Had she done or said something to upset him?

Back in the kitchen, he’d been all authoritative and, dare she say it, dominant in his seduction. But then, things had gone all tender. So
very
tender. Not that she was complaining. Tender was flippin’ great, especially considering who her last relationship had been with, but it had almost felt as if Brock had been holding back. She’d practically had to beg and plead with him to take her harder, to give her more, anything to coax out the lover who’d been with her downstairs.

She just couldn’t shake the horrible sensation that things weren’t as blissful as her post-coital body wanted to believe.

“You still awake?” he asked after a while.

“Yes.”

“You got kind of quiet. Thought maybe you’d drifted off.”

“Nope. Got too much to think about.”

“Like…?” His voice took on a sudden edge that sounded an awful lot like regret. But surely that couldn’t be it. Her heart would shatter if he regretted what they’d just shared.

She was almost too afraid to look up and verify, but she couldn’t avoid his gaze forever. She gathered all her courage and lifted her head. Through blurry eyes, she studied him.

His dark-blue gaze met hers. His forehead scrunched into a series of harsh lines. His jaw worked in a series of twitches and pulses, partially confirming what she feared.

Something
was
bothering him. But was it regret?

Before he had a chance to tell her what they’d done was a mistake, or that it was “just sex”, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. To her delight, he didn’t push her away. On the contrary, his tongue slipped between her lips and claimed her mouth in point-two seconds.

God this man could kiss.

He took instant control. She might have initiated it. She might be more on top but there was no mistaking the fact he was “in charge”.

She hugged him closer—but he held her back, severing their lip lock. His eyes searched hers, his hands still ever-so-gentle on her skin.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” What the hell kind of question was that?

“Toward the end there, I got a little rough. Did it hurt you?” His question made no sense, but the utter seriousness and guilt on his face said the inquiry mattered to him—and deeply.

She brushed errant hair from her forehead. “No, not really. I mean, I’ve never been taken like that and I might be a little sore tomorrow but—”

“Damn it.” His eyes slammed shut. “I shouldn’t have taken you so—”

“So sexually gratifyingly?”

His lips pressed together. “I was going to say violently.”

“Oh my god.” She pushed into a sitting position, the blanket falling to rest where she sat on the mattress. “This is unbelievable. You’re
apologizing
for the best sex I’ve ever had.” She laughed, a big, full-belly laugh. “Let me guess. Next you’re going to apologize for the three orgasms I—”

“Four,” he corrected.

“Four?”

“Two downstairs. Two upstairs.”

“Four…wow. Just…” She fought the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. That many climaxes in under thirty minutes had to be some sort of record, right?

It was for her anyway.

He sat up with her. His eyebrows scrunched closer together. “Damn it, Viv, I’m serious. I could’ve hurt you.”

“Worse than that, you could have held back and kept me from ever being taken in a way that made me feel like my lover wanted me so fiercely he got lost in the moment. Don’t you think
that’s
far worse?”

He didn’t answer.

She tapped her lips against his, her voice getting softer as she spoke again, sweeter, filling with all the emotion she harbored for this incredible man. “Don’t you think that’s far worse? Because I sure as hell do.”

Finally, his stiff muscles gave a degree. “Yes, that would be quite awful.”

“Tell me about it. I’d hate to think I might have gone the rest of my life without being taken so vigorously.”

“Well…” He tugged her against his naked body. “You did seem to enjoy it. Vigorously.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

“Good to know, little one.”

Between one heartbeat and the next, she went from sitting beside Brock to being trapped beneath him. His mouth made immediate contact with her neck. His lips trailed down, over her clavicle, around the outside of her breasts and then to the sensitive valley between her mounds. But he didn’t stop there. Never stopping, never slowing, his incredible mouth kept moving south.

“Not that I don’t enjoy all this attention,” she said, her words disjointed from her sudden jump in heart rate as his lips reached her lower belly, “but I’d like to play with you too.”

“You will, sweetheart. You will. Just not yet.” He ran his tongue along the crease where her inner thigh met her torso. His breath teased her pussy. Her inner muscles twinged, moisture seeping from her sex. But she’d be damned if she’d let Brock’s incredible mouth distract her.

She made a move to sit up, but Brock held her firm. “I don’t think so, beautiful.” His powerful hands held her thighs open to him.

She fought him.

“A fighter. It figures.” Pressing a quick kiss to her nose, he chuckled. “Am I gonna have to tie you up to make you cooperate?”

Although he’d grinned as he spoke, obviously joking, her cheeks heated. Shock reverberated through her belly, followed closely by arousal. Tie her up to make her cooperate? As in subduing her, taking her power, stripping her of control?

Something strange happened to her insides. The notion of giving herself completely to Brock, letting him take what he wanted from her, tickled long-hidden desires. It was odd. She’d just walked away from a jerk who’d tried to control her at every step. She didn’t want to be controlled or manipulated anymore, but then there was Brock, staring at her with those dangerous, kind eyes, saying things that should completely turn her off.

They did the exact opposite.

Brock Michaels was too goddamn sexy for her own good.

She swallowed hard. She’d always wanted a saucier sex life, a hint of danger, but she’d squelched the desires when they had arisen, fantasies of completely giving herself to a lover. Handing over control didn’t come easy to her.
Any
control, sexual or not. No thanks, in large part, to her bastard of a husband. If she’d have given Eugene an inch, he’d have taken a mile. She’d had to fight him tooth and nail during their marriage to maintain her independence, because with that bastard, it was always something.

I saw you eating lunch with a man today, so obviously, you must be having an affair…

I don’t want you going out with so-and-so again. She’s a bad influence on you…

You’re spending too much time away from home and neglecting your duties…

I noticed you bought new clothes. Who are you trying to impress, Viv? Your lover…

Day after day, she’d had to put up with his baseless accusations and belittling. No way in hell would she ever have given him any more power over her, but it wasn’t Eugene she was looking at. Brock wouldn’t treat her like that, would he?

She wanted to say no but…

“Well, well…” His lips curled into a knowing smile. “You
want
me to tie you up, don’t you?”

“No.” She held her chin high. “I most certainly do
not
.”

“Liar.”

Maybe, but she’d be damned if she’d admit it. She pinned her gaze with his. “I’m not saying some more risqué sex with you wouldn’t be incredible, but just not something like that.”

“Why not?” He pushed over her, pinned her arms to her sides, pinned her legs under his weight. “Have you ever tried it?”

She shook her head. Her voice had stopped working.

“Then how do you know you most certainly do not want me to?”

Because the idea of giving myself to you both thrills and terrifies me.
But how did she put her feelings into a coherent explanation?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s been a long time since sex was enjoyable, let alone an adventure. As I’m sure you might imagine, Eugene wasn’t—”

“Don’t say that rat bastard’s name while you’re naked in my damn bed.” His sentence came out as a growl, the primal ferocity forcing her spine fully erect and her instincts to leap to red alert.

He shot from the bed and stalked across the room. She’d known tension existed between the brothers—a blind, drunken idiot could see that—but this seemed like something…what was the right word?

Raw. Yes, raw.

She crossed her arms instinctively across her chest. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know.” Stopping at the dresser, he jammed his fists down on the hard surface, and then leaned forward, as if resting his weight on the sturdy piece of furniture. His head dropped forward. Shame? Despair? She didn’t know but she was sure as hell gonna find out.

Tugging the bed sheet around her nakedness as she moved, she pushed to her feet and went to him. She slipped an arm around his waist and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. “I’m sorry,” she said again. She didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s not your fault. It’s just…” He rubbed her forearm where it wrapped his middle.

For a long while, he said nothing else. Each silent second ramped up the heat of the nervousness boiling in her gut. She’d had no idea the mention of someone’s name could create such a visceral response, especially between brothers. Or had it been something else she’d said?

“Brock, please talk to me. I get nervous when you’re silent.”

At first, he didn’t respond, but eventually, he extricated himself from her arms and moved back to the bed—but it wasn’t for any sexy reason.

He was dressing.

And just like that, her heart dropped.

“Things are happening too fast, Viv. I think maybe it’s best if we slow things down, keep things professional and civil while we work on the contract and then reevaluate where we are after our emotions have come back down to earth.”

“Ex
cuse
me? You want to what?” Where the hell was this coming from?

Her head was shaking before any words managed to actually spill out. His statement was the verbal equivalent of a backhand, not to mention they made no damn sense. There’d always been a lot of resentment between Brock and his brother. That hadn’t stopped him from taking her earlier.

Why would it now?

“It’s complicated, Viv. There’s a lot of resentment between me and Eugene, and now, with your divorce, this just might not be the best time to start something.”

“That’s a bullshit reason if I ever heard one. Now tell me what the hell is going on inside that shaved head of yours or I’m walking out. And I won’t come back.”

What was going on inside his shaved head? Too much to fucking get his mind around.

Brock yanked his jeans on. The last thing he fucking wanted was to pull the brakes on the runaway fury that was his and Viv’s hormones, but everything felt so damn raw. He couldn’t think straight. When he’d joked about subduing her—at least he’d said it so she’d
think
he was joking—to his great surprise some genuine arousal had crossed her face, reddened her cheeks, even if her words denied it. She seemed both thrilled and terrified at the same time, and for a split second, he thought maybe, just maybe, Viv had some submissive inside her.