Chapter 27
27
Brax
I broke the speed limit.
I ran the only traffic light in this goddamn town.
If I could have broken the laws of physics, I would have done that, too.
Fucking Essie .
Gravel sprayed in a dusty cloud as I slammed on the brake in front of the Painted Cat. It would have been prudent to take a minute to pull myself together. Maybe take a few deep breaths until my fury dissipated enough that I could see straight.
But I wasn’t going to do that.
She had sent me that text to provoke a response, and by god, she was going to face the consequences of that now. Because I was fucking provoked .
I yanked open the wooden door and stormed inside. It took a second for me to find her in the dim yellow light, but when I did, my rage only intensified. Because she was standing there in skin-tight jeans and a sparkly top with a plunging neckline, fucking smiling up at a man who was aiming his own smile back at her chest.
Not just any man.
Bobby Waters.
How many times had I heard her name coupled with his on rodeo gossip sites? Too fucking many. It had killed me every time. Not because I had anything against the guy. I barely knew him. But it had happened often enough that I began to wonder if this asshole intended to stick around permanently. That maybe she might be serious about him.
A mistake, she had called him. Well, she was fucking right about that. And she was about to find out just how much of a mistake he was.
I was barely aware of moving people aside as I strode toward my wife. She caught sight of me and for a brief moment she looked like she had regrets. But it was too late for that. She nodded like she was paying attention to what Bobby was saying, but her gaze never left mine. Something he might have noticed if he had bothered to look up from her chest for a second.
I got right between them like he wasn’t there and took hold of her elbow. “We’re leaving. ”
She stepped back. “No. I want to dance.”
“We’re not dancing,” I said.
“I didn’t ask you.” She tipped her glass to her lips and a flash of blue glinted. Her wedding ring. She hadn’t taken it off.
Something settled inside me. Relief, maybe. But the adrenaline still pumping through my veins demanded a release. She started this fucking game, but it was one I was more than willing to play.
“You’ll dance with me, won’t you, Bobby?” she asked, smiling up at him.
Bobby glanced warily at me. “Uh?—”
“You know, I always took you for a man who enjoyed having two unbroken legs,” I said conversationally. “Was I wrong about that?”
He didn’t need to think long about that. “I think this isn’t something I need to be in the middle of.” He tipped his hat to Essie. “Ma’am.”
She rolled her eyes as he disappeared into the throng. “Really? Violence isn’t the answer, Brax.”
“Then don’t pose questions where violence is the only reasonable choice, hellion. Now, get your purse. We’re leaving.”
“We are not leaving.” She slammed her glass onto the bar top. Her dark hair swirled around her shoulders from the motion. “I want to dance.”
I glanced around. No one danced at the Painted Cat, despite the music blaring over the speakers. People came here to drink and find someone to bring home. That was all. “This isn’t a honkytonk, Essie.”
But she ignored me, looped her arms around my neck, and tipped her head back to look at me. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes sparkling. So fucking pretty. “Don’t you want to dance with your wife, Brax?” she asked in that husky voice of hers that went straight to my dick.
“I don’t know how,” I admitted.
She laughed softly against my neck. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll do all the work.”
Fuck, I liked that, her calling me baby. I was such a sucker for this woman, even when I was pissed as hell. My hands settled on her hips. She pushed her body to mine, pelvis to pelvis, chest to chest. She gyrated her hips in time to the old Guns N Roses song playing and turned us in a slow, lazy circle.
There was something so intimate about this. Our dance. My fury. Her teasing. All of our emotions on display right out in the open for people to see and interpret however they wanted to. I never did this. My past relationships with women—the handful I’d had, all lasting less than a year—had been even-keeled, even sedate. Maybe we’d hold hands in public, but nothing more than that. I wasn’t one for public displays, either of affection or anger.
But Essie wore her emotions like a second skin.
And I didn’t care who was watching. All I cared about was my wife’s body pressed against mine with a look in her eyes that promised more.
“Is this so bad?” she asked, her breath sliding across my throat.
“No,” I grunted out. Having my wife’s body grind against me when my blood was already hot wasn’t what I would call bad . Risky, maybe. This place had a filthy bathroom, and I had half a mind to drag her into it. As the last notes died out, I said, “ Now we’re leaving.”
“But I’m having fun,” she pouted, her bottom lip jutting out in a way I couldn’t resist.
“This fucking mouth.” I dragged my thumb down her lower lip. “I want to see this red lipstick smeared all over my cock, and it’s either going to happen here or at home. Your choice. And, hellion?” I leaned down so the tips of our noses almost brushed. “You are in so much trouble, honey.”
She blinked rapidly. And then she grabbed her purse.
I had seen Essie be a lot of things.
Happy, for example. I loved seeing her happy. Irritated, at me more often than not. Focused, before a big race, when the only thing on her mind was the horse beneath her and the barrels in front of her .
But I had never seen her nervous.
Until now.
She flitted around the house, putting things away, babbling. It was cute.
But being cute wasn’t going to save her.
I followed her into her bedroom.
“Essie,” I said.
She froze and stared at me with wide blue eyes.
“Come here, Essie.” My tone was no less commanding for its softness.
Head tilted, she studied me, gaze assessing. I wondered if she’d refuse, and what I’d do about it. It might be fun to find out. But she didn’t refuse, despite the hint of trepidation in the way her fingers fidgeted by her sides as she came toward me.
We were nearly toe-to-toe when she stopped. “What?” she asked, all innocence, as if she truly had no clue what her text had done to me. She knew, though. She fucking knew .
I traced the shell of her ear as I tucked a strand of hair behind it. Then I leaned down to whisper, “You’ve been bad, hellion. So fucking naughty. Letting other men think they have a shot with what’s mine. Flirting with them while I watched. You wanted to make me angry? You wanted me jealous?”
A shivery exhale escaped her, and she grabbed my biceps like she needed the support to keep from sliding to the ground .
I nipped her earlobe, and she gasped. “Well, congratulations, honey. It worked. Now take off your clothes and get on your fucking knees.”
For a moment, she didn’t move. Just breathed ragged little breaths that made me even more desperate.
Then she let go of my arms and took a step back, then another, her gaze never wavering from mine. Her shirt went first, followed by those goddamn jeans, leaving her standing there in nothing but tiny scraps of black lace.
I flipped open the snap of my jeans and unzipped. “Everything,” I said as I took my dick out, thick and hard and pulsing with need. She watched me stroke myself as she shimmied out of her bra and underwear, a pink flush darkening her cheekbones.
Then with a little smirk, she dropped to her knees.
I groaned at the sight of my beautiful hellion, kneeling so prim and proper with her thighs squeezed together, her hands folded demurely on her lap. But there was nothing demure about the look in her eyes. The way she stared at my dick was fucking carnal.
“Suck me,” I ordered.
Her blue eyes flicked up at me from beneath her thick, dark eyelashes. “Oh, no,” she murmured as she ran her palm under the length of my dick, guiding it to her luscious mouth. “What a horrible punishment.”
I took a step back.
She frowned. “Why?— ”
“Beg me.”
Her gaze went to mine. “You want me to beg you to suck your cock?” she said in utter disbelief. I could see her point, considering how talented she was with her mouth.
“Tell me how much you want it.” When she kept staring at me, I started to turn away, my jaw clenched so hard it was lucky I didn’t crack my teeth, because saying no when her mouth was this close to my dick? Fucking agony. “Suit yourself.”
Her hands shot to my hips, holding me in place. “Wait,” she whispered. She licked her lips. “Please, baby. Please let me suck your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.” There was a hungry desperation in her voice that had a bead of precum leak from my dick.
“Fuck,” I hissed. “Yes. Open your mouth, honey.”
She took me into her mouth with a hard suck. My eyes damn near rolled to the back of my head. She hummed, the sound vibrating against my dick.
And then proceeded to give me the best blow job of my fucking life. Her mouth was so hot, so wet, so greedy, that I could barely hold myself together. Red lipstick painted my length, her mouth making a mess of my dick, my dick making a mess of her mouth. She brought me right to the edge in less than two minutes.
“Stop,” I gritted out.
My dick still deep in her mouth, she narrowed her eyes at me. I might be giving the orders, but with her hands on my balls, my cock in her mouth, she was the one with all the power. The only reason I was the one in control was because she allowed me to be.
With a whine, she released me. “But I want?—”
My eyebrows arched, I stepped around her and headed to the bathroom. “Stay where you are. On your knees.”
I didn’t look behind me to see what she would do with that command. Either way, we’d have some fun.
She was still there when I returned with a damp washcloth.
“You made a mess, hellion.” I tossed the washcloth into her lap. “Clean me up.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, lifting the cloth, but I stopped her, capturing her chin between my thumb and index finger and tilting her face to look at me.
“Not sir,” I corrected. “Husband.”
Those dark blue eyes of hers didn’t leave mine for a second, even as I felt the movement of her throat as she swallowed hard. “Yes, husband .”
And then she cleaned her red lipstick off my cock with gentle, thorough strokes. After, she flipped the washcloth over and wiped her mouth, leaving it a rosy pink.
My cock ached with frustration at being denied an orgasm. Was I punishing her, or punishing myself? “Get on the bed. Face down. Ass up.”
She crawled to the center of the bed. It was a damn fine view, but she wasn’t where I wanted her. After shucking my clothes, I grabbed her hips and tugged her back to the edge. I stood behind her and ran my palms over the rounded contours of her backside, then slipped between her thighs. I groaned at what I found there.
“You’re soaked, hellion.” I slid my fingers up her seam, spreading her wetness as I went. Whimpering, she pushed back against my hand. Immediately I withdrew. She looked at me over her shoulder, frowning. “You’ve been bad, Essie. Letting another man think he could have this. What should I do about it?”
Her eyes were dark and desperate as she met my gaze. “Spank me.”
My palm came down on the silky globe of her ass with a resounding crack. Once, twice, three times. She cried out, a sound of mingled pleasure and pain, and dropped her forehead to the mattress, twisting the quilt in her fists.
I kissed the red bloom, felt the heat of it against my lips. “You won’t do that again, will you? You won’t make another man think he can take what’s mine.” When she hesitated a little too long, I nipped at her silky skin. “Hellion,” I warned.
“I won’t,” she said, but I heard the lie of it in her voice. She would. She liked this game too much to resist.
But I rewarded her anyway. Because I liked it, too.
I flipped her over and pushed her knees wide. Her pussy was pink and swollen from arousal, glistening with wetness. I bent down and gave her clit one hard suck. Her hips lifted on a hoarse cry. She was so close. It would only take a second and she’d come. Another lick, another suck. And fuck, I wanted it as badly as she did.
But I didn’t fold.
I straightened despite her protests, despite how much I wanted to bury my mouth in her sweet pussy. I dragged my aching cock through her wetness and teased her entrance. Her hips tilted.
“Please,” she moaned.
“Please what?” I asked.
“Please…” Her eyes darted back and forth in confusion. “Please fuck me?”
“Please fuck me, husband .” I growled the correction. “That’s what you call me. Me, and no one else. Not fucking ever, do you understand? I belong to you. I’ve always belonged to you.” I caught her hand and dragged it to my chest. To my heart, and the tattoo that claimed it. “This is your mouth, Essie. Your kiss. The one you put there the day you went over the cliff. I have always kept you right here on my heart.”
“Brax,” she whispered.
“I can’t be satisfied with anything less than everything. Not when it comes to you. Back then, I knew we couldn’t keep on like nothing had changed, because everything had changed. If I didn’t walk away from you then, I never would have. I would have tied you to me the first chance I got. I’d do it now, if you let me. Fill you up again and again with my cum until your belly is round with our baby.”
I splayed my palm beneath her belly button, imagining it. Craving it. “All you ever had to do is just say when.”