Booty and the Beast, page 18
Was it possible to hate this man even more?
My body weakened despite my every intention. Softened for his kiss, his touch, and everything else he could take from my willing and waiting slit. His cock hardened in his jeans. Ready for me. One little slip and he’d embed completely inside me, all the way to the hilt.
…No one would have to know.
And I could deny it forever after I’d come and come and come again over his pulsing thickness.
Damn it. The only defense I had against my own weakness were the rules I’d made for him.
I licked my lips, wishing they hadn’t parted for a kiss. “Too bad you’re not allowed to touch me.”
Nick’s grin turned devious. “You’re so ready to come, little girl, that I don’t have to touch you…”
His gaze settled on the counter next to me.
My mouth dropped open as he reached for the carrot I’d meticulously cleaned and prepped for my salad.
“That is not on the menu,” I whispered.
“But you said you loved vegetables.”
“Not like that!”
“Are you sure?” Nick teased me with the carrot, drawing it between my legs with a soft chuckle. “I can’t leave a beautiful girl begging for a little attention.”
“And…” I bit my lip. “What are you going to do with the carrot?”
“I’m gonna use it for something a hell of a lot better than a salad.”
He gently rubbed the rounded end against my slit.
The chill nearly propelled me into his arms.
Then…heat.
Oh, this wasn’t happening. Not like this. I couldn’t be…
Enjoying it?
He gave the carrot a little wiggle over the lingerie panties, tracing the outline of my slickened petals as my body twitched and shivered for him. A dozen shivers clashed with a dozen more, each racing the last to sizzle from my curling toes to the top of my head and back again.
I hated that I spread my legs wider for him.
But I loved that he took the initiative, pulling the thin panties aside so he could rub the smoothed carrot over my clit.
One little bump against the pebbled nub, and my core clenched so hard I nearly bent in two.
“Close your eyes…” Nick’s order rewarded me as I did as I was bidden. “And remember…this could’ve been my cock.”
He pushed the carrot inside of me.
I gasped.
Oh, this was an intrusion. A very unfamiliar, unknown, unbelievable feeling that rocked me deep and elicited a shocked moan from my parted lips.
I gripped the carrot hard, fiercely, even desperately. Thank goodness it’d been thin. I’d never explored so deep before. Never imagined how tight and slick it’d be, and how easily I’d accept such an invasion inside me.
Nick’s seized his victory with a smug, terrible smile that only coiled the tension tighter. He watched as inch after inch of the carrot disappeared within my eager slit.
My head lolled back. I’d never imagined anything like this before. The coolness of the shaft. The hard, unyielding flesh. He stroked me from the inside in all the best and dirtiest, terrible and wonderful ways.
He leaned over me, his lips grazing my ear.
“Imagine how good it would have felt if you’d let me take you instead…” He pulled the carrot out only a few inches, teasing me before plunging the hardness inside once more. I squirmed. Groaned. Slickened.
“Imagine if you’d let me taste you first. If I’d fucked you with my tongue. My fingers. If I’d made you come again and again before I buried my cock balls-deep within you.”
How could I imagine anything feeling better than this?
I shouldn’t have let him close. Shouldn’t have let him see me so desperate and aching.
I let him embarrass me on my own cutting board, and I still wanted more. I bucked my hips to take more of the thrusting carrot.
“Go on…” His encouragement humiliated and enthralled me. “You can come. I won’t tell anyone. It can be our little secret…”
I didn’t want it.
I tried to fight it.
I denied him and the pleasure and the constant, unending thrill that spiraled me out of control.
No way. I wouldn’t surrender. I refused.
Nick enjoyed how I sweated. He laughed as I gripped the counter, attempting to will my legs back to life so I could leap away to fend off the pulsing, twisting chaos that welled inside me.
But Nick was nothing if not determined.
He stared at me with such ravenous, bestial delight that his grunted encouragement nearly sent me over the edge.
This man watched me.
Wanted me.
Hunted me.
And he’d never stop until I gave him exactly what he wanted.
All of me.
It was too embarrassing.
Too humiliating.
Too great to deny.
The pleasure had never once assaulted me with such strength before. It began in my toes, surging through my weakened body from the inside out. My muscles tensed. My pussy clenched. And a sudden, relentless brightness ripped through my soul and erupted, consuming me whole.
I trembled. Cried out. Ached. Whimpered. Begged for more as he fucked me with the damned carrot with such deliberate, obscene strokes that my quivering body rode wave after wave of the unending pleasure.
Better than anything I’d ever done for myself.
Greater than anything I’d ever hoped.
And more humiliating than anything I’d ever feared.
Once the pleasure turned to torment, and my body flinched against the constant delight, Nick slowed his assault. I gripped the counter and the fridge, sucking in harsh gulps of air to recover.
Damn it.
I peeked my eyes open. It was worse than I’d feared. His ego was bad enough with just talk. Now that he’d so thoroughly fucked me without even touching me?
He’d be impossible.
Nick held the slickened carrot up and took a monstrous bite.
I hid my face as he chewed.
“You know…” He said. “This particular vegetable isn’t that bad.”
Oh God.
“You really are a beast,” I whispered.
“You can say it…” He winked. “Best orgasm of your life?”
What use was there in lying? “I don’t think I’ve ever had one like that.”
I attempted to slide off the counter, but my legs gave out. I tumbled into his arms. My fingers gripped his hardened muscle, and I nearly cried out.
“Hell, had I known you needed it so badly, I would’ve used the cucumber,” he said.
I pushed him away, wishing my voice was stronger. “Well…I hope you learned your lesson.”
His eyes devoured me as I wrapped the robe tight over the lingerie and hid from his sight once more.
“Not sure I did…” Nick grinned. “You might need to teach it to me again. And again. And again. Fuck the playbook. I’m free tonight.”
I’d lost my appetite for dinner, but a new hunger blossomed instead.
The man was tough to break, but I’d find a way.
The next time I wanted to torture Nick Hart…
I’d have to hit below his belt.
13
Nick
Charisma’s invite to dinner was less a formal request and more a dire warning.
I didn’t sweat it.
I was already pretending to be a compassionate, loving boyfriend. I’d kissed her. Admired her naked perfection. Given her the greatest orgasm of her life with a goddamned vegetable.
It was one simple dinner with her parents.
How hard could it be?
Turned out…
Pretty fucking hard.
Because it wasn’t just an intimate night-out with her mother and father.
By the time the waiter brought out the sixth extra chair, I realized her ploy.
Her Aunt Cecilia—or was it Aunt Carolina?—wedged herself between Charisma and her mother. She grabbed the basket of bread from the middle of the table, took a slice, and dumped the rest in her purse. She nearly cracked her glass of wine with a chunky, turquoise beaded bracelet dangling from her wrist. In her enthusiasm to learn more details about our relationship, she asked anyone for every private detail of our romance.
“So…where did you two lovebirds meet?” Cecilia/Carolina had a big smile and a bigger mouth. I expected a little gossip, but recording the event via Facetime for the family back in Georgia seemed a tad invasive. “It’s a fairy tale! And we thought Charisma would be the ugly duckling forever!”
And with that, Charisma lowered her water and opted to drink her wine instead.
“We’ve been answering questions for an hour…” Charisma forced a smile. “Why don’t we call off the inquisition and have dinner instead?”
Charisma’s brother and his wife grumbled, both squeezed into the corner of the small bistro between her aunt, uncle, and a potted plant that had served as her sister-in-law’s ashtray.
“We’ve been waiting twenty minutes for our water,” Tanisha, Charisma’s sister-in-law, bounced a wailing two-year-old toddler on her lap. The child took out his frustrations by yanking off her wig. “The service here is terrible.”
“That’s because we reserved a table for four…” Charisma gestured toward her mother, a sweet venom in her words. “But Mom just wanted to tell everyone we were going out to eat tonight, and it seemed like such a good idea.”
Rhonda held her daughter’s hand above the table...but underneath? Completely different story. Her hidden palm stroked my thigh, giving it an invasive squeeze before heading toward the goal posts. I nearly bolted out of the chair, but Charisma wagged a victorious finger at me.
“You’re not leaving unless you get me out of here too,” she whispered.
And now I knew her game.
“Payback for the…” I cleared my throat. “Carrot?”
“You betcha.”
“Oh…” Rhonda laughed as if she’d had only two glasses of wine. Unfortunately, she was on her fourth. “I only mentioned this little get-together with Cecilia.”
Charisma chuckled, winking at me. “But you should know, Aunt Cecilia tells everyone everything.”
Rhonda downed half her glass of wine. “And why shouldn’t we tell everyone? This is wonderful. My baby girl, finally settled down.” She called to the elderly woman in the wheelchair across the table. “Isn’t that right, Grandma?”
The little old woman, hardly weighing enough to support the blanket over her knees, gave a smile. She nibbled on a piece of fried shrimp that hadn’t come from our table.
“Oh…” Her voice wavered and cracked as she nodded. “It’s a wonderful reception. Lovely music.”
The restaurant didn’t have a band. Charisma groaned.
“Great Grandma…we didn’t get married.” She flashed her bare ring finger. “This is just a dinner.”
Rhonda shushed her. “Oh, let her have fun. We never thought this day would come. She should enjoy her day out of the home.”
Charisma pointed at her mother. “One of these days, I’m gonna need you to realize I’m not married either.”
“Yet.” Rhonda grinned at me. “Yet.”
Commotion rose from the front of the bistro. Four more members of Charisma’s family funneled their way through the center of the restaurant, knocking their purses into other diner’s heads and leaving their children unattended with the fish tank.
Rhonda hooted and embraced the newly arrived woman with a fierce hug.
“Charisma, look who’s here! Your cousin, Andee! And she brought the twins!” Rhonda hauled me to my feet. “And this is Nick, Charisma’s boyfriend! He’s an Ironfield Rivet—a professional athlete!”
If not for my discomfort, Charisma might’ve crawled under the table.
Should’ve known to expect some form of payback.
Unfortunately, offering my hand to shake meant leaving my ass undefended. Three or four hands belonging to various women in her family pinched before I sat. Short of grabbing the breadbasket and holding it over my crotch, I’d run out of defensive strategies to protect my boys.
Two spiraling little devils crashed into the table. Twin boys—one wearing all blue, the other dressed in spaghetti sauce from a neighboring table. They immediately dove under our chairs and began an epic game of hide-and-drive-the-waiter-crazy. A flustered busboy swiped another two unused chairs from other tables and attempted to corral the family into one general area.
Charisma’s father, a man who hadn’t said two sentences to me short of where did you say you went to school and why weren’t you drafted, eyed me with justifiable suspicion.
“So…Nick.” He rapped his fingers on the table. “You just happened to meet up with Charisma the very same week you got a tryout with the Rivets?”
“That’s right, Jeffrey.” I paused. “Sir.”
“Well…” His eyes narrowed over me. “What good fortune—a job and a girlfriend at the same time.”
“Never been that lucky before.”
His jaw set. “Better not be getting that lucky now.”
Fantastic.
The table erupted in requests as a perplexed waiter delivered water to customers who hadn’t ordered yet.
“Can we get some crayons for the children?” Andee had lost her twins but assumed they’d turn up as she put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.
Charisma’s aunt sipped her martini, winced, and sent it back. “I wanted cran-apple, this is regular apple.”
Charisma simply lifted her glass. “I don’t care what you put in mine as long as it’s over eighty proof.”
“Let’s hear a toast!” Great Grandma tapped her spoon against the glass. “Then toss the bouquet, damn it. I’m not getting any younger.”
I leaned into Charisma, lowering my voice. “I’ve seen less chaos in hurry-up offenses.”
“Just be glad they like you,” she said.
Rhonda reached into her bag between us at the table, pressing hard against my side.
The tickle was unnecessary.
“Yeah…” I glared at Charisma. “A little too much.”
Rhonda silenced not only the family but the entire bistro as she stood, preparing to give a speech.
“I know we’re all thrilled that Charisma finally fell in love with such a fine man…but I wanted to remind everyone that she might’ve found him a lot sooner.”
Charisma’s smile faded. She reached for me, her nails digging deep into bruised muscle that had only gotten more inflamed following the barrage of drills and scrimmages from earlier in the day.
“Oh no…” Her horror corresponded with how hard she squeezed. She must’ve been mortified. “She didn’t…”
“Look what I found!” Rhonda brandished a hardbound book between her hands, thumbing through the photographs. “This is Charisma and Nick’s senior yearbook!”
I’d taken hits in the gut from vengeful cornerbacks less painful than this.
“Oh shit,” I said.
Charisma covered her eyes. “Oh, God.”
Rhonda took the initiative, thumbing through a few pages until she found the football team’s varsity portraits. Images of the team in our home reds and blacks filled the pages. She held the yearbook up and tapped my picture.
“And here he is…my, weren’t you handsome, Nick?” Rhonda held the page high for all to see. “Who would’ve thought so long ago that we’d be here now, cheering him on as he plays for the Ironfield Rivets?”
I’d believed in it. If not the Rivets, then some other professional team.
“And here’s our Charisma…” She chuckled, tapping the page. “Uh-oh. I think this is a typo. They’ve got you listed as the team mascot, baby.”
Christ.
It hadn’t been a typo. Just another cruel trick.
A couple guys from the team had joined the yearbook committee so they wouldn’t get kicked off the field under academic probation. They’d laced the damn yearbook with their own cruel jokes and bullshit.
Which Rhonda was determined to root out with a laugh and another glass of wine.
“Look here—who would’ve guessed…” Rhonda sighed. “Nick and Charisma, The Cutest Should-Be Couple. It was like they knew back then. Kismet. It really is.”
No. It wasn’t.
It hadn’t been funny in high school, and it sure as hell wasn’t making Charisma smile now. Her grip on my arm tightened, and the chill in her voice made my hair stand on end.
“If you can get that yearbook off of my mother, I will call our arrangement done, right here, right now,” she said.
Fair was fair. My ass cheeks were more bruised from sneaky pinches than getting pummeled by linemen. If retrieving one little book spared me from the meat-market that was Charisma’s family, fine by me.
“Consider it done,” I said.
Though I had no idea how to get it.
We sat elbows to asses at the four-seater table, with bewildered waiters ferrying over more and more glasses of water for the family that seemed to sprout out of the earth to fill every conceivable spot.
But the toddlers danced around the table. Good distractions. Just like a receiver in motion—it’d capture the defense’s attention.
The yearbook fell open, and Charisma palmed the waiter a twenty and asked if he could expedite her drink.
I’d have the book to her before she could say Cosmopolitan.
“Isn’t this sweet?” One of Charisma’s cousins pointed to the full-color images. “They were nice enough to give Charisma two pages!”
“Oh no.” Charisma’s uncle woke from his nap and peeked out from under his flat hat. “She got two pages cause she wouldn’t fit on one.”
The family laughed.
Charisma forced a shallow smile before turning to me, grabbing my arm, and hissing. “Now.”
Rhonda entertained the family, preemptively skipping to pages marked with fluorescent post-its on the sections which featured either one of us. The book passed down the table, and I wove myself between the chaos to slither behind a waiter.
Ready.
Set.
Hike.
First down. First chance. I began my route.
A waitress carrying a sippy cup full of milk and two shots of jack for the parents blocked my path. I juked, dodging a second waiter as he struggled to take orders from two elderly aunts while a tiny chihuahua barked from inside one of their purses.
