Page 31 of At Her Pleasure
She managed a smile, even as the dark thought came that she really couldn’t remember the last time she’d kissed someone like that, if ever.
“You lied, Mick. You knew which vehicle was mine.”
He didn’t deny it, though he read her tone and stepped back, sliding his hands into his pockets again. “Yeah, I did.”
“Who told you?”
“No one. It just looked like you. A redneck woman, ready to kick ass and get dirty. Doesn’t matter whether she’s from Jersey or Georgia.”
“So why did you lie?”
“Because I wanted you to win.”
“Because you like having a woman punish you.” She gave him a cold look. “So it was self-serving.”
Coolness entered his gaze. “I’m into pain, not punishment. You know the difference. I want to suffer for you.”
“Still. Neither of us wins, because you lied. I don’t care what you do with your dick. Maybe next time we see one another, I’ll change my mind about that.”
His jaw flexed. “When will you be back here?”
“The day after you leave.”
He gave her an exasperated look. “We need a consensual non-consent scene for LIC. You want to do it?”
She opened the door of her truck. He took a step closer, his male energy curling around her. Though he didn’t try to stop her, the aggressive desire was there. She should call him on it, but her mind was screwing with her. It was considering something appalling, like inviting him to grab a coffee, talk and catch up, like normal people who hadn’t seen one another in a long time.
She didn’t do normal. Or public play. “No. There are other Mistresses who can do it. They can also tell you which subs are willing to bottom for it.”
“Do you do CNC, privately?”
Not anymore. “Sure. If it works for me and who I’m with.”
He’d picked up on her hesitation. He braced a hand against the side of the truck. “Is that lying thing a double standard?”
She got into the truck, settling into the driver’s seat above him. “Fuck you, Mick. Go crawl into someone else’s head.”
“Hey.” He caught the door before she could slam it. Genuine regret crossed his face. “Sorry. If it’s not your thing, or brings up bad stuff, that’s okay. I shouldn’t have called you on it like that.”
She couldn’t keep him out of her head. It really was time to go. “Let go of my door.”
A tug-of-war tension was between their two holds, but then he let her close it. She started up the truck with a roar. He’d gone so still while watching her. She wondered how he did that with energy boiling inside him, wall to wall heat.
Her blood was an oil fire on water, her swimming below, lungs on fire, looking for space to emerge and take a deep breath. Shit.
She lowered the window and gestured. He stepped onto the running board and gripped the outside handle to keep himself there. She grasped the collar of the shirt and tugged.
Reaching through the window opening, he touched her face as she put her mouth on his again, opening his lips to the stroke of her tongue, the edge of her teeth. He welcomed and tasted her in return, hand cupping her skull.
Her hand moved to his throat, a light squeeze to keep him there as she stilled and took a long, indrawn breath. She held her mouth against his, then swept her tongue over his once more, a tease before she drew back, hand still screwed in the collar of his shirt. “If I agree to do the CNC scene, you’re my bottom.”
He reached in and gripped the seatbelt, she assumed to pull it out and buckle it over her. She stopped him. “I don’t wear them.”
“Wear one for me. Just this once. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you before that night. Call it my self-serving side.”
The humor amid the darker emotions swirling in his eyes had her lips relaxing into a smile. He was interesting and a challenge, she gave him that. She held up both her hands, amused as he maneuvered further into the window to pull the belt over her, snap it into place at her hip. As he did, she took another nice inhale of him.
When he pulled back, he slid his hand along the belt’s track, fingers brushing the curves over the bra cups. He then adjusted the shirt so they were covered.