Good Time(26)

I married a goody-two-shoed strip club owner. What are the odds?

“You know, your foreplay chit-chat could use some improvement.”

“Duly noted.”

“I’m saying it as a favor. A little dirty talk not centered around the contents of a girl’s handbag wouldn’t kill you. The tacos were a nice touch though. Don’t lose the tacos in your seduction line-up.”

“Payton.” He says it like a question, so I respond when he doesn’t elaborate further.

“Yes?”

“Roll over. Ass up, elbows on the mattress.” His hands have moved to his belt, the buckle clanking as he frees the strap, and I’m caught off guard, unsure what is happening. “Now.”





Chapter Fourteen





“Are you going to spank me?” I throw a cautious look at him as I move to turn over. I don’t particularly mind if he does. I’d just like to know. Or maybe I do mind because the belt unbuckling is making me nervous. I think I’d be okay with a fun hand spanking, but I’m not sure how I feel about being smacked with a belt. “With your belt?”

He pauses, glancing between where his hands are unzipping his pants and my face. “I’d prefer not to, but I suppose I could if that’s what you need to get off.”

“No, thank you.”

“No, thank you?” He smiles and shakes his head as his pants drop to the floor. “Jesus, I can’t with you.”

“Few can,” I agree and roll over, pushing up onto my knees and forearms before glancing at him again over my shoulder. I’m down for a bit of doggy style. It’s not what I asked for, but I really am more adaptable than I’m given credit for.

“You are the bossiest, most aggravating woman I’ve ever met.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“I didn’t fuck you last night because you were drunk.”

“So were you,” I shoot back.

His hands wrap around my waist and he pulls me towards him until my knees are on the edge of the bed, my feet dangling over the side. I grip the bedspread in my fingers and wiggle my ass a little in invitation. His palms smooth over my skin before he runs one of them up my spine. Slowly, from ass to nape. I shiver and hold back a moan, mostly because I fear it would sound like I’m faking it and I’m not. I’m so not. I could probably come from nothing more than Vince running his hands across my skin. His touch makes me shiver in all the best ways, my skin heating beneath his touch, goosebumps trailing in the path of his fingertips.

Then his fist winds in my hair and suddenly I’m pulled upright, one hand on my hip to keep me steady as he lowers his lips to my ear. His fist tightens in my hair as he tilts my head a fraction to the side, his breath warm against my skin when he speaks.

“Do you always behave so stupidly, Payton?” The words are said softly, but seriously.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Do you often find yourself drunk and alone with men you hardly know?” His hand slides forward from my hip, his fingers splaying out across my stomach, the middle two resting a fraction above where I want them most.

“No, never.”

“Yet you did last night.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I trusted you,” I murmur. Now is probably not the time to mention my theories on fate, because this feels like some kind of kinky lie detector test and I’m liable to say more than I’d like to with his fingers inching south.

Then he bites my earlobe and dips his hand between my thighs. Two fingers spread me open as his middle finger glides across my wet center. Up and down, teasing my opening before retreating to circle my clit. Around and around. It makes my knees weak and I’d probably fall out of his embrace if not for the hand fisting my hair and the forearm pressed against my stomach.

“It was stupid, Payton. Reckless. And I won’t have it.”

Oh, hells yes. He’s heard me on the dirty talk request and he’s raised the bar with some alpha male bullshit. I love alpha male bullshit, but only if the guy can pull it off. If they can’t pull it off you end up in the midst of a very awkward exchange in which you’re asked if you’ve been a bad girl and you have to tell him to stop talking.

Vince can talk all day long as far as I’m concerned.

He kisses the spot behind my ear, his lips moving down my neck as his fingertip slides inside of me. He rims my entrance with slow, confident strokes, stretching and stroking with perfection.

“This pussy is mine now,” he breathes into my ear. “For however long you’re mine you’ll behave accordingly. I won’t have you taking unnecessary risks with yourself, Payton.”

Belongs to him? Have I just entered a kinky time portal to nineteen-twenty?

I don’t exactly hate it.

“Are we clear?”

“Yes.” Clear enough. His finger is back to manipulating my clit like it’s the only job that finger was born to do, so who really gives a fuck about clarity? Not me. I’m not the head of the clarity oversight committee. I’m not even on the task force.

“You’re driving me crazy.” He brushes his lips against my ear when he says it. He growls the word a little and I’m not sure if it’s a good crazy or a bad crazy. ‘Crazy’ is a word that can be used to describe passion and arousal and infatuation. But it’s also a word used to describe what it feels like to be stuck in a traffic jam or an actual lunatic. “I don’t do crazy, Payton. Ever. I do order and logic and reason and you are none of those things.”