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Asking for Trouble(8)

By´╝ÜTessa Bailey

“Tea parties are very last season. Try to keep up.” She sauntered forward, walking him backward with gentle nudges of her hand until he fell back onto the cushioned bench placed along the far wall of the foyer. He gave her a look of warning, one she’d never seen on his face before. It gave her momentary pause, but did nothing to sway her intentions. Using his broad shoulders for balance, she straddled him on the bench, remaining standing on her knees and putting her breasts at eye level.

Hayden could see his anger battling with arousal. But he kept his pissed-off gaze resolutely on her face. Until she started unbuttoning her blouse. Picking up where she’d left off at the bar, she popped each button out slowly, methodically, until she had his rapt attention. His throat worked as he swallowed heavily, tongue licking out to wet his lips with each inch of skin she revealed. Power surged through Hayden. She had two hundred and fifty pounds of rugged male between her legs. And she had complete control. She drew her unbuttoned blouse over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, leaving her in a crimson lace bra.

“I’ve got news for you,” he rasped, eyes blazing. “Seeing your breasts is not the worst form of punishment.”

“It will be,” she said huskily, undoing the front hook of her bra. “Because seeing them is all you get. And, Brent?” She kissed him fast and hard. “I’ve got a fabulous pair. So that’s really going to suck for you.”

Hayden parted the crimson material and revealed her breasts. Brent made a strangled noise and lurched forward on the bench, as though he couldn’t restrain himself. She dodged his mouth at the last second, staving him off with two hands on his shoulders. Still, he didn’t look away from her naked chest, mouth working as if he could already taste her. His unchecked reaction made hunger spread through her system like fire. Gone was the cocky son of a bitch she’d come to know. He looked like a starving man eyeing his last meal.

“Scoot forward,” he asked in a gravelly voice. “Just a little. I promise I’ll suck them so good for you. So good.”

His words enticed her like mad. It would be so easy to pretend the conflict between them didn’t exist and they were simply two people who desperately needed pleasure. She needed his mouth on her, she realized. Tempting him beyond control would be more difficult than she thought. In the process, she herself was being tempted. Don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how thoroughly he’s affecting you.

Hayden took a deep breath and shook her head. “Sorry, big boy. Not going to happen.” She gave in to the impulse to tease his neck with a kiss, but he turned his head at the last second and caught her mouth. This kiss felt different. Persuasive, entreating. As if he’d finally started taking this encounter seriously. It made her desperate to squeeze her legs together, but they were spread wide on either side of his hips. When she heard herself moan low in her throat, she broke away.

Between them, her nipples pouted, begging for Brent’s attention. Before she could stop him, he leaned forward and sucked one into his mouth, rolling it on his tongue and groaning. Then he pulled back just a little and blew on it gently. Hayden’s eyelids drooped, her lips parted. She felt each sensual movement of his tongue in every secret place on her body. His gaze met hers, looking for any sign of protest. He seemed to know how close she was to caving because when he spoke, his dark sincerity was tangible. “Listen, you got one over on me. Well played, baby. But we’re entering new territory now. Are you sure you want to tease my cock like this?” He sat forward, letting his chest graze the tips of her breasts. His teeth tugged on her earlobe, making her shiver. “Because I won’t be in these handcuffs forever. When I get out of them, I’m going to remember everything you do to me tonight.”

Hayden swallowed. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

He scrutinized her face a moment. “Look at you. You’re already scared. Afraid of a little pleasure, duchess? Worried you might actually like my middle-class mouth on you?”

She knew his intentions were to rile her up. Spark her temper. It worked. Once again, the need to prove he knew nothing about her rose to the surface. And maybe a tiny part of her recognized the accuracy of his words. Maybe she was afraid of pleasure. The kind of pleasure Brent might provide.

Her hands went to the hem of her skirt, drawing his attention away from her face. Very slowly, she slid the taut material up her thighs, revealing more and more of her black fishnet stockings. She watched as Brent shifted in front of her, hips tilting, chest shuddering. When she reached the point where her tights ended and she paused, he made a sound of protest. “Show me. You want to torture me? Fine. Just show me what’s at the top of those fucking stockings.”