Chapter 12 #2
“Is that why you’re upset? You’re mad because I used what’s available?”
His jaw works as his lips move closer to my throat. He brushes them against the soft, sensitive skin of my neck as he shifts his mouth to my ear. I bite my lip to keep from moaning.
“Yes, wife, that’s exactly why I’m angry. You’re mine.”
He kisses my throat. I groan in hungry need.
Anger fights desire for only the briefest moment until they’re working together, my rage fueling my need for him.
I writhe, but only to grind my core down his leg, bliss filling me like thunder.
His mouth comes up and I reach out, smashing the space between us, and I kiss him hard, brutal and quick, painfully good.
I bite his lower lip, nibbling harder than I should, but he only lets out the most gorgeous masculine grunt, like he wants me to do it again, and harder this time.
His tongue slips into my mouth. He releases my left wrist and drops a hand down my body, roughly touching my breasts, down to my hips, and slips it between my legs. I gasp in surprise and grab onto his hair, tightly lacing my fingers through and tugging.
His hooded, hungry gaze makes me moan. Or maybe that’s his touch stroking at my pussy.
“You crossed the line tonight and now you’ll have to pay for it.”
“You can’t…” I whimper as he unhooks my jeans. “You shouldn’t…” That doesn’t seem to stop him as he shoves his hand down the front, cupping my bare pussy with his fingers. “Oh fuck, someone might see.”
“Good. Let them."
He curls his fingers until they slip inside. I arch, groaning, taking more of his hand as he slides them deeper. His mouth hammers mine, kissing me hungrily, stroking his fingers in and out and using his palm to grind against my clit.
Pleasure hits me in the teeth. I’m pissed he’s doing this bullshit hypermasculine controlling garbage, but my god, it’s so hot I could break right now.
He teases me though, holding me pinned and hostage as his hand does its filthy work, and there are voices at the far end of the alleyway, people leaving the bar. If they look, they’ll see—
Brenden doesn't care. He grinds his palm into my pussy, his big fingers filling me.
“All fucking mine,” he says hoarsely, clearly not in control of himself right now.
The wildness is bizarre on him. Normally he lives under layers of protection, years of hardened emotions and solid armor, but right now they’re stripped away.
This is the true Brenden: controlling, needy, hungry, bereft of anything resembling moderation.
He bites my shoulder as he sinks his fingers in harder.
I grind down into his hand as he slams me, fucking me and stroking me, snarling in my ear as he does it.
“Your pretty fucking pussy is mine, Tallie. Your pretty mouth is mine. Your stiff nipples, your firm ass, every inch of your wet tongue, it’s all mine.
While you’re my wife, you are fucking mine. ”
“Oh my god Brenden,” I whisper, using my last shred of self-awareness to keep from screaming with bliss. “I’m so fucking close.”
“I should stop right now and make you beg on your fucking knees to come, you filthy fucking girl. You don’t deserve it.”
“Fuck you, don’t you dare.”
He keeps going, faster now, insistent. “Shatter, baby. I want you to know who owns this lovely cunt. Shatter so I can lick you from my fingers, please baby, break for me.”
I bite his shoulder to stop myself from screaming as the orgasm wrecks me.
It rushes into my core, exploding into my brain, rolling down my spine as my toes curl and my legs go numb.
He holds me up, stroking in and out and in again, heel of his hand working my clit as I twist and my vision slowly restores to normal.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers, slowing his stroking, until he’s finished. “Such a good girl. You deserved that punishment, but look at you now.” He slips his hand from my pants. I watch in astonishment as he follows through with his promise and licks his fingers clean. “Delicious fucking girl.”
“You’re insane.” I’m breathing hard, every inch of me flush, head filled with cob-webs and cotton-candy. “No, you’re deranged.”
“And you taste like bourbon mixed with honey.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It’s perfect.” He tips a middle finger to my lips. “Taste.”
I lick it tentatively. Salty, yes, but also strangely sweet. “You’re so strange.”
“And you won’t ever flirt with another man again when I’m around.”
“You think this is somehow going to stop me? If anything you’re encouraging it.”
His gaze blackens. “I can punish you in other ways.”
“Promise?” I slip from his control and put space between us while I zip myself up and try to make myself look like I didn’t get finger-fucked in an alley to completion. I hold tight to the bottle opener, still in my right hand. “What am I supposed to do with this thing?”
“Keep it. That’s your prize.”
“Does it mean we’re working together?”
“It means our deal stands if you can follow directions and you don’t ask too many questions.”
“I have a feeling we’re going to make fantastic partners.”
“I’m already sure we won’t.” He strides past me but stops a few feet ahead. “Although we did make a decent team.”
“Ha! I knew it! I distracted the bartender with my feminine wiles—“
His shoulders tense and he looks back at me. “Don’t.”
I want to tease him more but I can tell it’s actually bothering him. I don’t know why, but I like that a lot. “Come on, you big jealous idiot. Let’s go back to the house and you can stomp around and act mad all you want, okay?”
I take his arm and I think he’s going to tell me off, but instead he lets me walk him back into the evening, through the crowd near the bar, and back toward home.