“That’s what you think of me. Serious. Stick up my ass. Mr. Control.” He scrunched her T-shirt in his fist. The action pulled her closer to him and drew her gasp. “You think you’re the one to make me lose control, Emma?”
“I think I already have. You lost it at the club. You lost it in that shower.” She tiptoed up so her breath fanned his lips. Provoked. “And the way your erection is pointing at me like a divining rod tells me you’re not in control now. Ding, ding, ding, Brody. Your cock just found a wet spot.”
The groan he let loose found a corresponding callback in the beat of her racing heart. He claimed her mouth with a terrifying fierceness, and she immediately questioned whether this was such a good idea after all. Inciting Brody into losing control would make for an amazing bout in bed—or on the floor, against the wall, in the shower—but unleashing it might produce her own nasty freak. Because she liked it dirty, and the challenge of getting this buttoned-up man to give it to her was almost too much to resist.
His mouth savaged hers, a velvety roughness she would never have expected. It was a dark, decadent chocolate combined with a dram of whiskey mixed with a rocket fuel boost through her veins. When he tore his mouth away, she moaned at the loss.
“I’m not one for letting my dick run the show,” he grated out.
We shall see. She curled a finger around the towel fold at his hip and pulled. His hard, naked length pulsed against her belly. He was magnificent.
“Stop thinking so hard, Broderick, and let this beast be in charge for once.” She gripped his cock, gratified when it jerked in her hand, clearly desirous of taking the helm. One long, teasing stroke from base to tip found a bead of precome waiting for her at the end of her journey like a lovely gift. “Tell me it doesn’t feel good to be a little bad. f*ck
ing your fist in that shower is no replacement for the real thing.”
“Emma.” With what had to be monumental effort, he removed her hand and cuffed her wrist with his large palm. An inner battle raged on his face, thoughts doing the rounds until finally settling on—dammit—that cool slate. “Neither you nor my dick are in charge here.”
But then he surprised her with his next words.
“I am.”
Chapter Eleven
This woman was driving him crazy. He had no idea who she was or what game she was playing. This could all be part of some long con by Grigson to squeeze more money out of him. She could be in on his plan, but con or not, the truth of this sexually magnetic bond between them was undeniable. His efficient, frumpy assistant had provided him with the worst lap dance ever, and had still managed to be the source of every orgasm since. Beating off three times a day for the last forty-eight hours hadn’t taken the edge off in the slightest.
Only one thing might. Lose himself inside her—but try to keep his wits. Quite the challenge.
She had a dirty, hot mouth on her, and damn she wore it well. This side of Emma made him wild for her and conjured up the beast in him. He’d always tried to be respectful to women, taking his cues from them for how far he could push it during sex, both the filthy talk and the dirty deeds. He’d never come across a woman who was so uninhibited about what she wanted.
He’d never met anyone like Emma.
But she needed to know that there was only one captain here. Not her, not his raging cock, but him. He stood before her naked, sprung, and ready to take charge.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked, a slight shake in her voice. Yeah, she should be scared.
“Give me your mouth.”
She gasped. It wasn’t dirty, but it demanded. He demanded, and if she didn’t do what he said soon, he’d—
She launched herself at him and kissed him as if she had been burning for him, and they hadn’t just kissed two minutes ago. Her ferocity matched his own, but he kept something back, some measure of control. He wouldn’t let her play him. The days of letting a woman screw him over were long gone.
He cupped her ass and lifted, satisfied when she wrapped her legs around him. The thin cotton of his boxer briefs separated her skin from his. It wouldn’t last long. And neither would he if he didn’t get an iron grip on the unbearable pleasure already rolling like fire through his veins.
He walked to the bed and laid her down, his own body in the embrace of hers. So much heat making him dizzy with want. Making him crazy to sink into her and feel her taking him deep. Wringing every drop from him.
Parting from her a few inches so he could peel off her T-shirt—his tee, he thought with male satisfaction—he also used the moment to get his bearings. He’d already come with mind-blowing force in the shower, her name a shouted prayer on his lips. It wasn’t that he’d have to fake it, but it couldn’t possibly be as good so soon after. That would be his safety net.
He wouldn’t bite her shoulder
He wouldn’t call her name.
He wouldn’t lose every piece of his ever-loving mind in her.
But God, her tits were f*ck