The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild

  Pleasure burst through him at her touch.

  “Poor dear. You’re so very hard for me, aren’t you? Look at how much this cock aches,” she murmured, dragging her tongue over his length and licking him like a delicious treat. “It needs relief.”

  “Good thing you’re here,” he said raggedly. His hand stroked her cheek, even though he desperately wanted to push down on the back of her head and cram his cock into her mouth, watch her take him deep.

  As if sensing his thoughts, she gave him another small smile and then opened her mouth, sinking down on him.

  He groaned at the fierce wash of pleasure that shot through him, unable to stop watching her as she sucked him deep. Her cheeks hollowed, and he felt an incredible suction on his cock. Unable to contain himself, he pulled back against her head. “I’m about to come, Brenna. Don’t—”

  She popped off him immediately, looking up at him in surprise. “Don’t what? Deep throat you? Really?” Grant reached for his cock to stroke himself off, but she stopped him. “Don’t you want to come in my mouth?”

  “More than anything.”

  Brenna moved down so close that her breath hummed along his skin. “Don’t want me to take you deep in my throat?”

  “Brenna,” he rasped. “I’m close—”

  “Or maybe you wanted to come on my face?” She leaned in so her lips brushed his cock while she talked. “Get your come all over my lips and my cheeks—”

  A snarl broke from his lips and he pushed at her head. Eagerly—almost greedily—she took him into her mouth again, and he pushed at the back of her head, sinking his cock deep into her mouth. Her throat worked around him and it was too much—he came with a rush, groaning out her name as his cum flooded her mouth. That evil, evil suction broke and she released him, her throat working to swallow. And Grant fell back in his seat.

  Damn. That had been amazing. He gave her a stunned look.

  Brenna sat up, wiping the corners of her mouth with delicate fingertips and looking extremely pleased with herself. “That was so sexy, Grant. You’re making me turned on all over again.” And she gave an excited wiggle in her seat. “Now I want to have sex again.”

  He bit out a laugh. “We’re never going to get home at this rate.”

  “Oh, I’ll let you drive the rest of the way home,” she said languidly, and ran her hands up her front, cupping her breasts. “But the rest of me is going to want some attention when we get there.”

  “I can do that,” he murmured, then flipped his seat back into the upright position and started the car again. “Buckle up, because we’re going to drive fast. We’re even going to go the speed limit down this road.”

  “You wild man, you!” Her throaty laugh of pleasure only spurred him on.

  They made it back to the cabin in record time. By the time he pulled into the gravel parking lot, his cock was hard again and Brenna was squirming in her seat, telling him all the dirty things she wanted to do to him. The woman didn’t know the meaning of patience . . . and that was just fine with him, really. More than fine.

  He hauled out of the car, not caring that he hadn’t parked straight, and then Brenna was jumping out of the car next to him, before he could open her door. She gave him a mischievous smile and held out her hand.

  He took it and instead of holding her hand, he hauled her into his arms, swinging her legs over his elbow.

  She squealed in protest, her arms going to his shoulders. “What’s this for?”

  “So you don’t get away.”

  “After that car ride? I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Good.”

  Grant strode across the grounds, Brenna cradled in his arms. When he got to his porch, he turned so she could twist the doorknob for him, and then he pushed the door open with his foot.

  “Home sweet junky home,” Brenna announced. “Get ready for a makeover.”

  He grinned, pleased as hell that she thought of his cabin as home. He didn’t even mind that she thought his house was junky. He kept it clean, but that wasn’t what bothered her. He’d had a decorator come in and make it look like a home, so as a result, he had some useless items—like decorative spheres made out of dyed grapevine that sat in a wooden bowl on a coffee table—but none of it meant a thing to him. Brenna’s happiness was what was truly important. She could toss it all away and he didn’t care, as long as she was smiling and in his arms. “You do whatever you like to it.”

  “Oh, I plan on it. Right after I do whatever I like to you.” She ran a hand down his chest. “Put me down so we can go upstairs?”

  He did, setting her feet down. Before she could slide away, he kissed her again, his lips moving over hers in a gentle caress. Nothing deep or searing, just a simple, gentle affirmation of how he felt about her. And he loved the smile that blossomed across her face as a result.

  “You’re trying to distract me away from sex with kissing and cuddling, aren’t you? You fiend.”

  “Never,” he told her, unable to stop touching her. His hand dragged through her hair, brushing it off her neck, and he began to kiss her lightly on her jaw and neck. “We’ll still have sex. Don’t you worry.”

  “Good,” she told him, sliding her hands under his shirt and running her hands along his spine. “Because I like cuddling, but I’m an even bigger fan of a deep dicking.”

  She had such a filthy mouth sometimes. It shocked him, but he also liked it. “So a bit of cuddling and then a deep dicking? I can handle that.”

  “Oh, I approve. You’re so good at both.”

  He grinned against her neck and lightly nipped at the skin there, enjoying her shiver of response. “So I should stop with the cuddling and the foreplay?”

  “Mmmm. I’m debating.” She cycled a hand in the air. “Keep going and I’ll let you know what I decide.”

  His hand moved to her breast, cupping it through the fabric. No bra. He felt her nipple harden against the brush of his hand, and then he began to tease it as he kissed her neck. “How’s this?”

  She made a soft sound, then spoke. “It’s . . . it’s really good.”

  He licked at the smooth skin of her neck, and then pushed her shirt up, his hand sliding under the material to caress her bared breast. The curve of it was the perfect fit to his hand, and he thumbed her nipple, rolling it back and forth into stiffness. His other hand slid to her other breast, and when he began to play with both nipples, she moaned.

  “Still down for some more cuddling?” he asked.

  She shivered, but her breasts pressed against his hand. “What else did you have in mind?”

  He cupped one of her breasts and tilted it so the nipple was pointed toward him. Then he leaned in and brushed his lips over it.

  Brenna cried out softly, clinging to him for support.

  He tongued her breast, circling the stiff nipple and then licking it. He sucked on it for a long moment, then turned to look up at her. “More?”

  “Actually,” she breathed, panting hard. “I think I’d really like my deep dicking now.”

  He thumbed her nipple again, then smacked her ass. “Then let’s get upstairs.”

  She shimmied up the ladder with a wiggle that drove him crazy with lust. It didn’t matter that she was wearing someone else’s cast-off jeans and one of his shirts. She was outrageously sexy to him. It was evident in her smiles, her playful tone of voice, and just the way she looked at the world. He couldn’t get enough of her. Never would.

  Once they were both up the ladder, she headed straight for the bed, tearing off her clothing. He grabbed a condom from the dresser and began to get rid of his own clothes, tearing them off in his haste. He’d never learned to undress so fast as when he was with Brenna.

  She finished undressing first and came over to his side, helping him take off his clothing as she leaned in for another kiss. He kissed her, letting her tug at his sh
irt even as he played with one of her bare nipples, loving how distracted she got. In every other aspect, she could distract him within moments. It felt glorious to turn the tables on her. His fingers tugged at her nipple, coaxing and teasing it, and she whimpered when he leaned down to bite at the stiff tip. All her playfulness had vanished and was replaced by sheer need. “Grant,” she panted. “I need you. Need this.”

  He let his half-torn shirt slide off his shoulders and shook it to the ground. Condom still in hand, he tore the package open and began to roll it on as Brenna ran her hands on his chest. When it was on, he grabbed her and dragged her to the bed. They fell in a heap together, and then Brenna’s hands were all over him, hungrily clutching at his skin. Her hand slid to his cock and she spread her legs wide, trying to guide him into her. Grant’s hand covered hers, and he guided himself in, then slammed home.

  “Ah!” Her first cry was a shriek of delight, and she wrapped her arm around his neck, holding him against her. “Yes!”

  “Is this what you wanted?” he gritted between thrusts, driving into her.

  “Oh God, yes. Fuck me so deep.” Her head threw back, her mouth half open with pleasure.

  Grant began to thrust harder, pounding into her with as much speed and power as possible. He’d have been afraid that he was going to hurt her with the force of his thrusts, but she clung to him and kept asking for more. Harder. Stronger. So he complied, each stroke sinking deep, only to pull back and roughly pound into her again.

  Brenna clung to him, crying out with each wild thrust. She hooked her legs around his waist and lifted her hips with each thrust, demanding more.

  Grant’s control was close to shattering—it wouldn’t be a long fuck, but a short, violent one. He held off, determined to make this as good for her as he could. He wouldn’t be able to stand a long, slow, torturous fucking. They were both too worked up. Even now, Brenna was nearly insensible, softly crying out his name over and over with each thrust, her nails digging into his back so hard that she was drawing blood.

  And then, he felt her pussy spasm around him, clenching hard. “Oh God,” she moaned. “Oh, I’m coming. God, I love you.”

  His heart skipped a beat at her wild admission. She loved him? It was the first time she’d ever admitted it. He was so startled by it that he lost his control. The orgasm he’d been fighting back rushed over him and he came with a muttered curse and collapsed on top of Brenna.

  She clung to him, her skin stuck to his, and gave a long, drawn-out sigh of pleasure.

  Grant kissed her one last time, breathing hard. “Did you mean it?”

  She blinked at him, still dazed from her own wild orgasm. “Mean it?”

  “That you love me?”

  “Oh.” Her eyes got soft and she smiled at him. “I do. Is that so bad?”

  “It’s not bad at all. I love you, too.”

  She snuggled closer to him, pulling off his now smudged and completely askew eyeglasses and tossing them on the nightstand. “It freaks me out a little, I admit. I’m still scared to be in love.”

  “I won’t hurt you,” he told her, stroking a hand down her arm. “I’d never hurt you.”

  “It’s just . . . vulnerable.”

  “It is,” he agreed. “But it’s also incredible. When I’m with you, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

  “Ironic, isn’t it? You used to hate working with me.”

  “Oh, I still hate working with you,” Grant said, grinning. “You’re a shitty employee. But you make an incredible girlfriend.”

  “So much for just pretending. I guess we’re not very good at that.”

  “Nope. I’m not complaining.”

  She gave another blissful sigh. “Me either.”

  Grant stroked her hair. She was so beautiful after sex, all sleepy and tousled. Purple strands of her bangs stuck everywhere. “I still want to marry you.”

  Brenna considered this for a moment, then tucked her head against his shoulder. “Would I have to wear a ring?”

  “Not if you don’t want to.”

  She thought about it, and then shrugged. “Make it a shitty ring, so I won’t feel bad if I lose it.”

  “I . . . can do that. Is that a yes?”

  She gave him a mischievous look and then licked his chin. “It’s not a no.”

  “I’ll take that,” Grant said, and leaned in to kiss her again. “One shitty ring, coming right up.”

  FIFTEEN

  You’re going to have to take that piece of crap off for the photo shoot,” Miranda told her. “It doesn’t match your outfit.”

  Brenna protectively held her hand close to her breast, scowling at her friend. “It doesn’t matter. It’s my engagement ring.”

  “It came from a candy machine,” Miranda pointed out. “I can’t believe that Grant’s a millionaire and he cheaped out like that on your ring.”

  “I asked him to,” Brenna said, beaming as she extended her hand and admired her ring again. It was a cheap piece of crap, but it was her cheap piece of crap. They’d gone out to dinner to celebrate, just the two of them on their first official date. As they’d entered the restaurant, they’d noticed a candy vending machine full of plastic bubble packs with a toy inside. Grant had stopped in his tracks and started to search his pockets for change.

  “What is it?” she’d asked, and he’d pointed at a small play ring at the front of the vending machine. And he’d sank a quarter in and tried to get it for her. Three quarters later, and he’d had to go inside for change. Twenty-seven quarters later, they’d handed out the extra toys to kids who passed by with their families, and Grant had finally retrieved the ring. It was a total piece of junk—the back was a plastic c-clasp obviously meant for smaller fingers, and the purple stone was more of a gaudy bead.

  But she’d loved it, and she loved that he took her hand and slipped it onto her finger as if it were the most important thing in his life. And he’d told her he loved her all over again.

  Brenna had told him that she wanted a cheap ring because it wouldn’t bother her if she tossed it. But now that she had her ring? She loved it, and she’d be damned if she switched it out for anything. It made her happy just to see it.

  “Elise, tell her that ugly ring is going to ruin the shot,” Miranda insisted. She leaned out of her chair, the huge pink curlers in her dark brown locks sticking up wildly. In front of her, Beth Ann wielded a can of hairspray, enveloping her in a cloud of fine mist and then waving a hand to dissipate the smell.

  Her name called, Elise dutifully came over to the other side of the salon, where Brenna and Miranda sat. They’d volunteered to be the test subjects for the pin-up photo shoot, and had arrived for an early morning of pampering. Brenna’s hair had been curled and pulled back on the sides in a mimic of Bettie Page’s hairstyle from an old photo, and she wore a pink and black diner T-shirt and a short, pleated black skirt that barely covered the frilly, pink ruffled-rump panties she was wearing underneath. Her legs were clad in pink thigh highs and she wore black high-heeled Mary Janes. Atop her head, a paper diner hat had been artfully perched, and her makeup and nails had been perfectly done, thanks to Beth Ann’s ministrations. Looking in the mirror, Brenna had to admit that she did look a lot like a pin-up model.

  At her side, Miranda sat in a tight white sweater with a blue peter pan collar and matching blue poodle skirt. Her hair was being carefully teased into several large rolled pin curls atop her head.

  Elise studied Brenna’s ring for a long moment, then shrugged. “It’s whimsical. It’s not like it won’t fit the theme. If she wants to keep it on, she can.”

  Miranda made a face at Elise. “Party pooper.”

  Brenna stuck her tongue out at Miranda, then grinned and hopped out of her chair. “Are we ready now? All this lipstick’s driving me crazy.” For the shoot, Beth Ann had slicked Brenna’s lips with a bright red gloss that l
ooked gorgeous, but tasted awful. And of course she kept licking her lips by accident.

  “We’re ready,” Elise told her. “I need you to go stand in the center of the sheet.”

  Brenna trotted over to the area that had been staged for the photo shoot. Beth Ann’s tiny salon had been temporarily transformed. Pale beige sheets had been draped over the windows and across the flooring, creating a neutral area for the shot to be set up. The barber chair had been pushed to one side, and a white stool sat in the midst of the sheets. On the far corners of the room, lamps had been set up on tripods to make sure that the room would have the best lighting possible.

  “So do I just sit on this stool?” Brenna asked, dusting her hands over the ruffles on the backside of her panties. They were so ruffly and her skirt so short that it kind of stuck out in the back, almost like she was wearing a crinoline.

  “Actually, the stool’s for Miranda.” Elise hurried forward and moved it out of the way. “If you’re up for a slightly racier shot, I have a few ideas to go with your waitress costume.”

  On the far side of the room, Beth Ann squirted more hairspray over Miranda’s curls and laughed. “Up for a slightly racier shot? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

  Brenna rubbed her hands gleefully. “I am so ready for something dirty. Bring it on.”

  “Well, these are pinups,” Elise told her, bustling to her prop box on the other side of the room. She tore open some sort of plastic package, the rustling filling the room. “The idea is fun and naughtiness more than blatant dirt.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Brenna. “Not that you couldn’t make that work.”

  “You know I could,” Brenna said, and flexed her arm, grinning.

  She was glad Elise had stayed in Bluebonnet. The girl had seemed so lonely when she’d arrived. But since undertaking her new business scheme with Beth Ann, she’d been blossoming out of her remote shell. Now when the girls got together for drinks and girl chat, Elise was usually with them. They made a fun foursome, and Elise’s quiet personality was a good foil to Brenna’s brashness—not that Elise didn’t occasionally zing them with a mouthy quip of her own.