Rogue (Dead Man's Ink, #2)(42)
“Cheat,” he growls.
“I didn’t cheat. I did what you told me to.”
“But you’ve already done it before, haven’t you? And you had me thinking you were completely ignorant to the workings of a gun.”
“I did no such thing. You just never asked.”
“Hmmm.” He stabs me with his index finger one more time, making me squirm. “Come on, then. Show me. Show me what you’re made of.”
He must trust me implicitly. Without a backward glance, he sets off toward the fence line, collecting beer cans from the ground as he goes. The loaded gun in my hand could easily be used to put an end to him, but he knows me. He knows how I feel about him, irrespective of whether I’m ready to admit to it or not.
I watch as he stoops and collects two more cans. I’m not prepared for the wall of emotion that hits me sometimes, for absolutely no reason. He can be doing the most inane thing—scratching at the stubble on his chin. Talking to Cade. Spinning a pen absently in his hand. Picking up beer cans for me to shoot—and I’ll be hit with this sensation that just feels so damn…huge. Like it’s taking me over, ferocious and unstoppable. Like it would be impossible to run from, no matter how hard I tried or how badly my lungs burned, or how painfully my legs ached.
When he straightens, Rebel finally glances over his shoulder at me and he smirks. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m totally fine. Why? Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
More smirking. “Because you’ve got that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“The look you get when I’ve just made you come really hard and your ears are still ringing.”
Blood rushes to my cheeks. Man, this guy. He has some nerve. “I don’t get a look when you make me come.”
“Sure you do. It’s like this.” He tips his head back slightly, mouth open just a fraction, his hair falling back out of his face, his chest heaving. He looks incredible. And he does look like he’s just had the best sex of his life. I’m struggling to keep myself in check. A very large, turned on part of me wants to command him to remove his clothes at gunpoint. Slowly.
Rebel’s grinning when he lowers his head to look at me. “Sweetheart, you think I’d ever quit f*cking you unless I knew you were satisfied? That face is how I know I’ve done my job properly. It’s the most beautiful, sexual thing in the world. I’ve memorized that lust-filled, sex-doped expression in great detail, which is why I recognized it two seconds ago when I caught you staring at my ass.”
“Oh my god, I was not staring at your ass!”
He just laughs, turning his back on me again so he can carefully start balancing the beer cans on the tops of the fence posts again. “Why not? I have a great ass.”
I can’t deny that—he most definitely does have a great ass. It’s just frustrating that he knows it is all. “Just get the cans up there, jerk.”
“Yes, ma’am. If you hit all of these without missing, I’ll treat you to something very special. Would you like that?”
“An Audi R8?”
He shoots a raised eyebrow over his shoulder at me. “You really don’t know the meaning of inconspicuous, do you? A car like that would draw some serious attention around here. Either way, no. No Audi R8 for you. You’d get a far better ride out of what I’m offering, anyway.” He looks positively evil as he says this. There’s no doubting what he’s referring to. I’d have to be stupid to miss the innuendo. He oozes sex when he’s like this—intense, fixated and just a little wild. He’s much calmer than he was earlier. His nervous tension pours off him just as strongly as his lust, though. He’s not in a good place. Flirting with me might be a great way to distract himself, but I get the feeling he wouldn’t follow through on any of his promises. He’s just trying to rile me.
I decide to put the theory to the test. Purely out of curiosity, of course. Not because holding a gun in my hands always makes me feel heady with power, and his rather obvious comments have me tingling all over my body. “Okay,” I say. “If I hit all…five, six, seven cans, you’ll give me the ride of my life, huh?”
Rebel places the final, seventh can on top of one of the fence posts, straightening up. From the way he sets his shoulders, pushing them back, the cheeky glint in his eye turning very, very serious, it’s clear he didn’t expect me to take up his challenge. “Yes, ma’am. You can’t miss a shot, though.”
“What happens if I miss? No crazy sex for me?”
“Oh, no.” He stalks toward me, something dark and dangerous now playing in his eyes. “There’ll be sex for you alright. The tables will be turned, though. It’ll be your job to please me. Your job to blow my mind. You’ll have to do absolutely anything I tell you to, without question. That’s a big responsibility.” He pauses, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not so sure you can handle it.”
I pull a face, shaking my head, trying to laugh off the highly sexual tone in his voice, but I can’t. His words, the thought of obeying him, doing as he tells me, working to please him and sacrificing my own pride in order to do so…it’s weirdly appealing. I want him to use me. In some perverse way, I want to lose this challenge so I can find out exactly what he would have me do. It would be the most eye-opening experience. I’d sure as hell know an awful lot more about his desires and kinks if I submitted to him like that. And if there’s one thing I’ve ever been sure of in my life, it’s that Louis James Aubertin the third has many, many desires and kinks he hasn’t introduced me to yet.