The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild (16 page)

“I’ll sleep there,” he told her, getting out of bed. “You can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

She rolled her eyes again and thumped down on the side of his bed. “This is not some misplaced sort of chivalry, is it? Because that shit gets tiresome.”

“No. I just need to think. Not going to bed yet, which means you can have the bed.” He needed to walk around. Exercise. Something. Anything to get his mind off the dark places it was going. Brenna being homeless. Brenna being alone and without a penny to her name in Alaska. Brenna sleeping in a car while it snowed around her.

It was risky. God, he hated risk. He wasn’t going to be able to function if he thought about that. Hell, as it was, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep. Grant pushed away from the bed, ignoring her small harrumph of irritation, and skidded down the ladder. Time to go work out and take his mind off things.

It was either that, or go and shake her until she started talking sense. And he suspected that if he did, he’d be shaking her for a long, long time.

She was flying through life without a safety net, and it bothered him. He needed to somehow fix that for her. Protect her from the worst life had to offer. But how?

B
renna couldn’t sleep. It irritated her that she couldn’t, that she needed Grant curled up beside her in this lush bed. She was still smarting over his words last night, his shock at the fact that she’d thrown away his unwanted gifts. And she was hurt that he’d somehow taken “living in her car” and turned it into “one step above thievery.”

But most of all? She was aroused and incredibly frustrated.

She’d been fantasizing about Grant all day. That was her own fault, really. But when he was working and he’d look up and give her one of those focused looks from behind his glasses? She’d imagine what was going through his mind. Her straddling him while he sat in his desk chair? Throwing her over his desk and pounding into her from behind like he’d done on the couch? Him tossing her onto her back and licking her piercing until she was sobbing his name?

She’d been wet with need all day. And then he’d had to go and ruin it. And now she was sleeping alone in his big, ridiculous cabin filled with ridiculous cluttery decor that wasn’t even necessary to survival. Paintings of landscapes and expensive knickknacks and so many dishes that the man could run a kitchen.

And despite all that? She still wanted him.

She’d told him she’d just use her hand, but the fact of the matter was that her hand? Not nearly as fulfilling as Grant. She’d had boyfriends where it had been the opposite—after an unfulfilling round of sex? She’d just work herself over with her fingers and get the orgasm she’d needed and he hadn’t provided. But with Grant, she’d had orgasm after orgasm, and she hadn’t even had to work that hard for them. It was like he delighted in arousing her beyond capable thought, and then driving her over the edge.

A girl could get addicted to something like that.

If only they weren’t fighting over stupid stuff.

Brenna rolled over in the bed, staring out into the darkness, her nipples aching and her thighs slick with her own need. She supposed she could go down to him and apologize. After all, it wasn’t a real apology if she didn’t believe it, right? Or she could just go downstairs and come onto him and see how things worked out. She wouldn’t even have to fake-apologize if her mouth was full of his cock. Then he could apologize to
her
for making this all difficult, and they could get back down to their regular, sex-filled, angst-free relationship.

She liked the thought of that.

Tiptoeing naked out of bed, Brenna winced with every creak of the floorboards and the ladder as she stole into the living room. He was normally a pretty sound sleeper, so she was confident he’d still be crashed.

Except when she leaned over the couch to see his sleeping form, he looked back up at her in surprise, his eyes hollow. “Brenna? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

“A little something,” she agreed.

He reached for the blankets, alarm on his face. “What is it? Are you hurt? Do you need the hospital?”

What? How had he jumped so quickly to that conclusion? Strange man. She shook her head and sat down on the edge of the couch and then slid over the side, onto her back, landing on him. Her legs were up in the air and she wiggled her toes even as she glanced over at him. Her back was on his hips—not the most comfortable of positions, but she didn’t plan on being there long. She slid her hand between her legs and sighed dramatically. “My pussy is
so
wet and there’s no one to lick it for me.”

His eyes widened and he groaned as if in pain. “God, you don’t play fair.”

“Is this not fair?” She gave a tiny sigh. “All right. I guess I’ll just have to do it myself.”

And her hand slipped between her legs and she began to rub. She was so turned on that she couldn’t stop the whimper of tormented pleasure that escaped her the moment her fingers brushed up against her clit. Man, she was aroused. She began to slowly, torturously rub, making small noises with every circle of her fingers.

“Goddamn it, Brenna,” Grant rasped. He reached for her, then hesitated.

That was agony, too. She arched her back, letting her nipples point into the air. She could feel the heat of him, the erection that was now stabbing against her back. And he wasn’t touching her? What more did she need to do? Brenna spread her legs wide and then used her other hand to spread her pussy lips. She licked the fingers of her other hand and then slid them back down to her clit and began to rub some more. Not that she needed the moisture, but it was a showy, delicious gesture, just as much as spreading herself wide was. And as she began to rub herself again, she closed her eyes. “Grant,” she moaned deliberately.

She felt him stiffen underneath her, felt the low groan that he was biting back. One warm hand closed over her breast and she gasped when he pinched her nipple, rolling it between his fingers. She began to rub herself harder, her fingers working faster as the shockwaves of pleasure tore through her. Even that small touch was enough to make her crazy with lust. “Grant,” she breathed again. “God, I wish you were touching me between my legs. Rubbing me hard so I could come—”

His fingers pinched her breast hard, and when she gave a little gasp of shock, it was followed by a squeal of pleasure when his hand covered hers over her pussy and he began to rub in tandem with her.
Oh yes, that was lovely.
She whimpered when his fingers laced with hers, and then it was two sets of fingers rubbing along her clit, two sets of fingers sliding into the well of her pussy and stroking deep. Two sets of fingers slick with her own juices. Her hips rolled in response to the touch, the mindless orgasm building to a frenzy deep inside her.

She looked over at him and was entranced at the fascination etched on his features. He watched her as she rubbed, the wet, slick noises the only sounds mingling with their breathing. His hand kneaded and rubbed her breast, teasing her nipple even as his other slicked in and out of her pussy. And suddenly, she really, really wanted him deep inside her. Fucking her, on top of her with that same intense look of concentration on his face.

So she stopped rubbing, her hand trapping his. And she met his gaze. “Finish me off the right way?”

His response was to drag himself off the couch, nearly tumbling her to the ground. Then he was back a moment later, a condom in hand. He ripped it open with his teeth and slid it over his cock before she could do more than pick herself up off the ground.

A quiver of excitement rushed through her and she tensed, waiting with anticipation to be tossed back down to the couch and plowed into, her legs trapped between them and knees at her ears.

But to her surprise, he moved close and instead of tossing her down on the couch? He pulled her in and gave her a long, wet, seeking kiss, full of tongue and promise. Brenna nearly melted against the heat of his mouth, the intensity with which he made love to her lips.

He pulled her arm to his neck, and she greedily twined her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, loving the feel of him against her. One big hand went to her thigh and hauled her leg up around his hips, and her other arm went to his neck. She clung to him to keep her balance and gasped when he dragged her other leg up around his waist.

They were standing, her hips cradled against his cock, her legs wrapped around him. Her eyes widened as she realized he intended on making love like this. He had to be strong as hell for something like this . . . and the thought was even more arousing.

He kissed her again, then murmured, “Guide me inside you, Brenna. I’ll hold you in place.”

She whimpered, working her hips against him again, then slid a hand away from his neck. His hands were tight on her thighs, cradling her in place without the slightest hint of her weight slipping. She reached between them, her fingers finding his latex-sheathed cock, and she flexed her own hips. He lifted her, steering a bit as she guided him to her entrance.

And then Grant pushed forward, his cockhead sinking into her warmth. And she was unable to stop the moan that escaped her as her muscles clenched with joy around him. God, this was definitely what she needed. Her hand went back to his neck and she flexed her hips even as he jerked his own, and she felt every inch of him dragging inside her, sliding into her wet, slick pussy.

“Fuck, right there, Brenna. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” His hands dug into her hips, clenching her against him. His feet braced apart as he widened his stance, and then he lifted her hips, dragging her back down against his cock, and she could feel every inch of him.

“Ooh, that’s more like it.” She clenched her pussy around him as he rocked into her again, her eyes closing with bliss. “If you could just keep doing that all night—”

His rough, choked laugh made her smile. “I’m going to come long before that, Brenna.”

“As long as you take me with you,” she told him breathlessly.

“Then ride me,” he said in a husky voice, and his hands drove her hips down on him again. And again. His movements became rougher and faster, and she whimpered with excitement as his thrusts worked her harder and harder. Every tiny movement rushed through her system in glorious, exquisite sensation. He stroked into her, and then paused. “Look at me, Brenna.”

She groaned, digging her nails into his skin in protest. “Why are you stopping?”

“Look at me,” he told her. “I want you to see me when you come.”

For some reason, just his command to stare at him while he pounded into her felt incredibly intimate. It was like peeling off a layer of privacy, and she kept her eyes squeezed shut for a moment longer, hoping he’d lose his control and start fucking her all over again.

But he didn’t. He just waited, his hands dug into her ass, his cock deep inside of her. And she was
squirming
for release.

So she opened her eyes.

He drove into her again, his eyes holding her gaze. The moment was incredibly intense, and she could feel a spark run all the way down to her toes. A gasp escaped her, and she lost herself in his gaze as he continued to thrust into her, a look of such intense concentration on his face that she was aroused all over again.

It was as if Grant existed just to pleasure her. The thought rippled through her a moment before the orgasm did, and she felt her sheath spasm and clench tight, even as he continued to drive into her, that magnetic gaze pinning her. She clung to him, her mouth working silently as the orgasm ripped through her and she lost control.

And as she watched, his jaw clenched tight, and he ground out her name. His fingers dug into her ass and he gave her one last long, rough stroke, staring deep into her eyes—

They both fell to the floor, Grant landing on top of her.

“Ow!” Brenna winced, rubbing her ass and glad for the plush rug covering Grant’s floor. “You okay?”

He braced himself on his elbows, and his face was bright red. “I, uh, forgot about muscle control when I came.” His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

She giggled, the moment so absurd and full of relief after that intense, locked-eyes orgasm. “Next time, remember to keep your knees locked when you come.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured, a sheepish grin on his face.

And suddenly everything was right again in their world. Nothing like a good round of sex to relieve tension. She draped her arms around his neck again and pulled him down for a quick kiss. “Come back to bed with me?”

His gaze searched hers. Whatever he found there, it seemed to please him. He nodded.

 • • • 

Brenna was humming the next day when she went into the main lodge. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and she’d had some pretty awesome sex last night. Life didn’t get much better than that.

As if the universe was full of post-coital happiness, Brenna walked in on Dane and Miranda making out at Dane’s desk. She was cradled sideways in his lap, her legs crossed and dangling over one side of the chair. His hand was in her shirt and their mouths were glued together. They were so cute when they were horny.

“Morning,” Brenna sang out cheerfully. “I see some of us are working up an appetite.”

Miranda gasped and tugged her shirt back down, slapping Dane’s big paw away. She grinned with relief when she saw it was just Brenna, but she still struggled out of Dane’s grasp and sidled away from him. “I just thought I’d come by and see my fiancé before heading off to work for the day. He’s going to be gone overnight, so I need to let him know what he’s missing.”

“Just make sure that his mind is on his class and not your ass,” Brenna quipped. She couldn’t help but notice that Miranda was wearing the pretty purple bracelet again. That little tingle of wistfulness touched Brenna, and she forced it away. Give it a few weeks, she told herself, and she wouldn’t miss it. It was just stuff.

She hated stuff. Stuff had no use. Stuff just piled up and made a mess. Stuff wasn’t real.

Frowning at herself, Brenna thumped into the chair at her own desk . . . and whimpered at the flare of pain that shot up from her backside. She rubbed it with a scowl. It seemed Grant had dropped her harder than she thought. Glancing up, she saw both Miranda and Dane were watching her, Miranda with a look of curious amusement, and Dane with a look of abject horror.

“What?” Brenna said crossly. “Haven’t you ever seen a girl rub her ass before?”

“Rough night?” Miranda asked in a silky voice, unable to stop her teasing.

“Ugh, I don’t want to hear this,” Dane said, grabbing his coffee mug and racing to the kitchen.

So funny. She couldn’t help but milk it a bit. “I told Grant he needed to use more lube,” Brenna called out in a loud voice as Dane exited the room.

“La la la la can’t hear you,” he shouted back.

Brenna giggled, and at Miranda’s even-more-curious look, she added, “I got dropped on my ass last night.”

“Should I guess how?”

“You can guess, but it’s pretty obvious,” Brenna told her.

“For someone who’s been dropped on her butt, you sure seem happy,” Miranda told her, smiling. “This little thing you have with Grant seems to be working out well.”

“Oh, it’s not a thing,” Brenna told her. “We’re just having some no-strings-attached sex. It’s not like we’re serious.”