Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) (22 page)

"Go ahead." He slid one hand
around her waist and under her shirt, pressing against the small of
her back to support her. "Hold on tight."

No man had ever said that to her
unless he was about to give her a rough ride, but what Dean did
with just his lips and tongue on her mouth fired up every nerve
ending, until she melted, evaporated, would have floated away if
she hadn't anchored herself to him. His tongue caressed hers,
guiding it in a slow, deep kiss, his fist in her hair pulling just
a little whenever she tried to take over or speed up. Each inhale
heated up as their ragged breaths mingled between them. And at the
very moment when she couldn't take any more, his lips left hers and
returned to her throat.

Desperate little whimpers
escaped her. Her nipples tightened and jabbed into his unyielding
chest. He bit her hard and the sharp pain folded her knees and
almost completely undid her. If he didn't take her now she would go
completely insane.

"Silver, you will focus on
breathing and my words." He lowered her to a chair and pressed a
finger to her lips before she could scream or beg. "Breathing
first."

Breathing?
I'll give you fucking breathing!
She
breathed through her nose hard and fast. Which made her sound like
an angry bull. She made herself stop.

"Much better." His eyes creased
and he gently stroked her swollen lips with his fingers. "I need
you to know I want you, pet, so much that it's painful, but we will
wait until tomorrow night. It will be worth it. Can you trust
me?"

Her lips curled bitterly
as his fingers left them. "Trust you? You just got me all worked up
for nothing! I'm tired of you playing with me!"

"I'm not playing with you." His
jaw ticked as he shoved away from her. "I suppose I should
apologize again. The kiss was a mistake."

A
mistake?
She frowned.
Mind-blowing. Frustrating, maybe. But not a
mistake.
She bit her lip as he moved
across the kitchen, taking out a frying pan and several mixing
bowls. She expected him to slam them, but besides some rigidity in
the set of his shoulders, he seemed utterly calm.

"Are you allergic to
strawberries? Nuts?" He leaned into the fridge, speaking without
looking at her.

"No. I don't think I have any
allergies." She stood and approached him cautiously. "Umm . . . can
I help?"

"Do you know how to beat eggs?"
He held out a carton.

She snorted and took it.
"Of course I do. How many do you need?"

"Two."

At the counter, Silver palmed
two eggs and spoke lightly as she looked around for something to
break them with. "Ah, where are you knives?"

"Just use the edge of the
bowl."

The cook that had worked for
Daddy when she was a little girl always used a blunt knife. But
people on TV used Dean's method, so it shouldn't be too hard. She
hit the egg on the edge of the bowl and groaned as half the egg and
shell ended up in the bowl, and the other half on the counter.

She glanced over her shoulder to
where Dean was slicing apples at the table. "Can I have a
spoon?"

"A spoon?" He set down the knife
and stood. "What—"

"I've got it!" She hunched over
the mess and shifted from side to side as he tried to see around
her. "Just pass me a spoon." Her elbow slipped in some egg slime.
"Eww. And a towel."

He folded his arms over
his chest and gave her 'The Look'. "
Silver
."

She shivered, but the
grossness dripping down her arm stole some of the effect he had on
her. She mimicked his tone. "
Dean
."

Shaking his head, he put his
hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. His eyes took in
the yolk on her shirt and her hands. His lips quirked. "Have you
ever cooked anything before?"

Damn it, you
had to ask.
Her brow creased as she
stared at her feet.
He's
going to think I'm a spoiled little princess.

Most people did, not that she
cared, but it was different with Dean.

"Don't make me repeat myself,
Silver."

She stomped her foot and glared
at him. "No, all right? I've never cooked for myself. I don't know
how to clean or wash clothes or do anything."

"Now I know that's not true."
His head titled slightly. "I figured you weren't the domestic type,
but you don't do any of your own cleaning?"

"I'm not a slob or anything—I
just, well, I pay someone to tidy up my condo twice a week."

"And what do you eat?"

Shrugging, she brought her
fingers to her mouth and chewed on the flesh along her thumbnail.
"Cedric cooks sometimes."

"Really?" He shook his
head and pushed her hand down. "You're a horrible liar, little one.
I think all that acting for the camera makes your face even easier
to read. Must make sure every nuance is picked up."

Just to prove him wrong, she
shifted her expression into one of pure bliss. "Honestly, Cedric is
a wonderful cook. Why, just last week he made a stew and I
completely forgot about my diet and stuffed my face until I was
ready to burst!"

Dean's brow furrowed and his
lips drew into a thin line as he studied her face. "I stand
corrected."

She smirked and gave him a mock
bow. "Thank you."

"But I still know you're
lying."

"Yeah right." Letting out an
aggravated huff, she went to the sink and snatched the rag hanging
over the faucet to clean up the egg. "You're guessing."

"True. I am making an educated
guess on what I know." He came up behind her and slid his hands
into the back pockets of her jeans. "You never had dinner with
Asher and Cedric at home. Maybe Cedric cooked for Asher, but never
for you."

Her spine stiffened. How did he
know?

"Not that it matters." He kissed
the nape of her neck. "I'd be happy to cook for you."

"I want to learn to do it for
myself." She tilted her head to one side as he nibbled up the
length of her throat. "But you did promise me breakfast."

"That I did." His warm breath
sent tingles over her moist flesh. "Go take your shower. I'll
finish up here."

Shower. Yes, a
nice long cold—
throbbing between her
thighs cut her off—
no hot
shower. And a few minutes to take care of . . .
her breath hitched as she pictured him joining her. Oh
yeah, with that image in her head, it shouldn't take long. "Okay.
You finish and I'll—"

"There's something I need to do
first." He moved his hands, flattening one on her stomach while the
other covered her aching breasts. He deftly undid her jeans and
slid his fingers into her panties. "I thought so."

Oh,
God!
His fingertips slipped over her clit
and a shock of pleasure had her writhing against him.

"This should tide you over until
tomorrow night." He bit her and thrust deep inside her, curving his
fingers until he found the trigger to set her off. Holding her
tight as she bucked and cried out, he withdrew his fingers almost
completely, speaking over her moaning protests. "Much too easy.
Give me another, pet. I want to hear you scream."

She almost screamed right then.
Her clit pulsed and swelled and wet heat flooded his palm. He
worked three fingers into the tight confines of her jeans, prodding
gently at first, slicking them up, then pushing until she opened
for him. He pinched her nipple through her shirt and drove his
fingers in as far as they would go, then strained as her body
resisted.

"Still so tight. Relax, I want
to see how much you can take."

All of it! She wanted to take
all of it! His fingers were thick and skilled, but she remembered
how it felt to have his dick pounding into her and she wanted that
now. Her insides convulsed around his fingers and she twisted as he
teased her opening with all four.

"Brace your hands on the
counter."

Her hands slapped the counter
and she almost fell forward as he released her. Her thighs quivered
as he jerked her jeans down and removed them. Finally. Finally he
would fuck her.

"Look at that beautiful ass."
She heard him kneel behind her and tensed up as he sank his teeth
into one butt cheek.

What was he—

Her nails scratched the counter
as he cupped her pussy. "Spread your thighs as wide as you
can."

Lost in the moment, she obeyed.
Whimpered as he filled her with all his fingers. And bowed her
spine as he slapped her thigh.

"You're not ready for fisting,
but with some work . . . ." He grunted as he pressed his knuckles
against her pussy. "Jesus, you're so hot and wet. I want to taste
you."

He thrust one last time,
hard enough that she screamed as the climax ripped through her. He
lifted her up so her thighs balanced on his shoulders. Her arms
shuddered under the strain as his tongue speared her. Fiery spikes
shot deep inside, over and over with each thrust of his tongue. His
fingers dug into the back of her thighs and vibrations brought the
erotic sensations to a fierce boiling ecstasy as he groaned into
her pussy.

Her palms slipped on the counter
and she was sure she'd crack her head and knock herself out. But he
caught her just in time and cradled her in his arms.

"There we go. Shh." He kissed
her forehead and rocked her as she buried her face into his chest.
"You ruined my plans for this morning, sweetheart, but I just can't
seem to keep my hands off you."

"I don't want you to." She
flicked her tongue out to taste the beads of sweat glistening on
his steel wrought pecs. Sweet mother, the man was hot. In more ways
than one. She let her hand drift down to his crotch and squeezed
his very erect cock. "But I still don't understand—"

"You want more?" He sounded so
surprised she wanted to say yes. But she was too sore.

"I will, just give me a bit."
She wiggled off his lap and winced when her butt hit the tiles.
"Ouch! How hard did you bite me?"

He grinned as he stood and held
out his hand. "Hard enough to leave a mark. Does that bother
you?"

Surprisingly, it didn't. She
wouldn't be doing nude shots anytime soon and, as her body adjusted
to the lightly throbbing bruise, she found she kind of liked
it.

Weird.

"What was that look?"

No way. Do not
tell him.
"What look?"

"Like you're savoring
something." He covered her ass cheek with a hand and squeezed.
"This, perhaps?"

She yelped. Then bit back a
groan as the throbbing intensified. "No. I was thinking about that
shower."

"I'm sure." He sighed. "We'll
work on this truth thing. I would punish you for lying now, but I'm
pleased with you."

"Why?"

"Because you took what I gave
you and didn't ask me to fuck you once."

Holding her tongue between her
teeth, she picked up her jeans and moved to put them on. "What's
the point? You already told me you wouldn't."

He put his hand on her wrist
before she could pull her jeans on. "Strip here, Silver. I want to
see you. I think I've earned the pleasure."

Dropping her jeans, she
straightened and gave him a sly smile. "I think you're right."

Her hips swayed to a
sultry song in her head as she peeled off her t-shirt and tossed it
aside. Unlatching her bra, she turned away from him, backing up
until her butt rubbed against his erection. She let her bra fall
and arched to look up at him, moulding her breasts with her hands
as he stared.

"Don't you wish you didn't have
to wait?" She smirked and sauntered away from him.

He yanked her back by the wrist
and bent her over the table.

Whack!

"You cockmunching
son-of-a-bitch!" She howled as he smacked her again. "Stop!
Ow!"

"Behave, Silver." Another hard
slap struck her inner thigh when she tried to kick him. "I would
have stopped at one for the sass, but I do not tolerate
insults."

"You better get used to it,
limp-dick!"

"Limp-dick?" He laughed and
ground himself hard against her already sore ass. "Sweetheart, I am
never 'limp' around you."

Oh
oh oh!
Sore as she was, her insides clenched at the idea of having
him inside her again. Maybe another verbal shove would do the
trick. "Well you're a fucking asshole anyway."

He sighed. "I think you enjoy
being spanked too much for it to be a very effective punishment.
Don't move."

For a few seconds, she
stayed in that position, face down on his table, staring at the
bowl of sliced apples which for some reason hadn't turned brown.
Just as he returned, she realized she'd done what he'd told her to
and tried to fix that by skirting away.

Something hit her, hard, and her
breath caught in her throat. That wasn't his hand.

He laid the flogger on the
table. "Don't make me use it again, pet."

Something wet squirted between
her ass cheeks. Her eyes went wide. "No. Oh hell no!"

"Brace yourself."

Cold. Hard. Big. Pressing
against her asshole. "I said no!"

Dean's big hand massaged the
sorest spot on her butt. "Have you forgotten your safeword,
pet?"

"No I haven't fucking
forgotten."

The flogger
disappeared.
Crack!
She grunted through her teeth as her body
absorbed the sting.

"Manners," Dean said.

"I haven't fucking
forgotten, sir!"
Really? Then
say it!

So twisted, but she really
didn't want to. Her eyes teared
up as the
big thing—probably a butt plug—was forced into her. Burning,
burning, then a plop as it was seated snuggly.