By Degrees (33 page)

He’s pumping into me with everything he’s got, showing no mercy.
 
Sweat drips down off his face and lands on mine, mingling with my own saltiness.
 
In the full light of the nearby lamp I can see his face perfectly.
 
He’s staring at me, and he looks furious.

“Tarin,” I say, barely able to get the word out. Feelings are coming over me that are alien to my world.
 
I want to feel him deeper.
 
Harder.
 
I don’t know what’s happening.
 
I cling to his back, my nails digging in for purchase, and my legs are wrapped around his.
 
I meet him with every thrust, practically throwing myself up at him and gasping with pleasure when the pain of our sharp impacts become pleasure of a sort I’ve never known.
 
It’s so savage, but I want nothing more than to disappear in the wildness he brings.

“Scarlett,” he growls in response, still staring at me, and my heart flips over and over.
 
He’s possessing me, mind, body, and soul.
 
In this brief moment in time, I’m gone.
 
I’ve answered his Truth question and yet I’m paying the forfeit too.
 
I am his slave; I’ll do anything he wants just so long as I can keep feeling this.

He puts his hand under my ass and squeezes my cheek, effectively spreading my folds from behind and making his cock hit deeper into them.
 
He’s pushing against my clit and it’s causing something to happen inside me.
Heat.
 
It’s coming for me.

He’s too intense.
 
His body on me, his cock invading my very essence, his expression.
 
He’s consuming me.
 
Overwhelming me.
 
I feel myself falling away.

“What are you doing?”
 
I sound like I’m crying.

“I’m fucking you, Scarlett.”
 
He says it so calmly and matter-of-factly it sends a bolt of sensuality into my center, and I scream with the thrill of it.
 
I’m a sorry mess and he’s in complete control.
 
Oh, how the tables have turned.

“That’s right, babe, let it out,” he says while he strokes in and out of me, going a little easier now.
 
Here is the finesse I thought I didn’t want anymore, and oh god, he’s so good at that part too. “You know you like it,” he says, and there’s no way I could even hope to convince him of the lie that I don’t.

I do exactly as he wants; I let my emotions out and fuck him back with abandon.
 
As I meet him thrust for thrust, I yell with every bit of passion I’m feeling.
 
I’m someone else tonight.
 
A slut.
 
A loud slut.
 
Someone who has zero regrets over the silly, stupid, careless things she does.

“Oh, God, you feel so good,” he moans, his cool slipping a little. “Do you feel that?”
 
He’s lost too now.
 
His eyes are closed and his expression reveals surprise, pain maybe.
 
I feel strong and in control, no longer the weepy woman swept away by the beast of a man.
 
I’m doing this to him.
 
My body and my voice are making him come to heel.

“Yes,” I whisper.
 
It’s all I can do.
 
More moans come from my throat.

“I can’t hold back much longer, babe.
 
You gotta meet me there.”

He called me
babe
.
 
He’s waiting for me.
 
The idea that this selfish, big headed jerk is doing this for me when he doesn’t have to is all I need.
 
I have power over him.
 
I am both his slave and his master.
 
It brings a wave of pleasure that has me clinging to him and screaming with ecstasy.

He shouts too as his jerky movements bring his pleasure too.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

FOR A LONG TIME AFTER it’s over we lay on the couch, clinging to one another.
 
When we’re both too sensitive and wiped out to move, he rolls off me and lands on his back on the floor.

“Ow.”

I giggle, turning on my side to look down at him.

“Do you have any idea how bad I want a cigarette now?” he moans.

“Too bad.
 
No smokes and no pity from me, either.”

His bandage is hanging off the side of his eye and his face is screwed up with pain.

I reach down and press the bandaid gently back into place.
 
“Sorry about that.”

He grabs my hand and kissing my finger.
 
“Don’t apologize for the best sex of your life.”

“My life?”
 
I try to pull my hand away but he won’t let me go.

“Yeah, your life.
 
It was, wasn’t it?”

I scowl at him.
 
“Shut up, you idiot.
 
That’s so not sexy you know … to brag when a condom is still hanging off your dick.”

He yanks on my hand, pulling me almost off the couch.

“Let go!” I screech, pretending to be angry.

“Get over here, slave,” he says, pulling me the rest of the way down.
 
I’m on top of him now, the floppy used condom between us.

I hesitate.
 
“What’d you just call me?”

“You heard me.
 
Slave
.”

“Oh, no freaking way am I your slave. I answered the question.”

“Apparently, you didn’t.
 
See … you said you didn’t like me that way.
 
But since you just fucked my brains out, you were obviously lying. You
do
like me that way, ergo, you are my slave starting tomorrow at nine a.m. with ass massages. Make sure the oil is warm, by the way.
 
I don’t want to cramp up.”

I try to slap him but he catches my hands and traps them, stealing a kiss when I’m not paying attention.

I try to fight the idea of ass massages, using logic as my weapon.
 
I don’t let the fact that truth or dare could never be logical stop me.
 
“First of all, the game is over.
 
No going back.
 
And second, sex is not necessarily anything.
 
Sex can be just sex.”

He goes quiet and still.
 
Staring up at me, he says, “Are you trying to tell me that was just sex? That this is all it was for you?”

I bite my lip to keep the lie from slipping through.
 
I can’t say anything or I’m sunk.
 
I struggle to get up and he lets me.
 
As soon as I’m free of him, I grab my dress and panties out from under his legs and put them on.

While I put myself together he takes the condom off and wraps it up in a tissue, depositing it in a trashcan by the wet bar before pulling on his jeans.

The silence is awful.
 
Painful, even.

When I’m dressed I stand up straight and face him.
 
He’s there in his jeans just staring at me.
 
I cannot read his expression, it’s so guarded.

“I’m sorry.
 
I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” I finally say.

“Feelings?
 
Who’s got feelings?”
 
He shrugs like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

His words are like a knife cutting me deep.
 
My soul is bleeding, I know it is.
 
But I soldier on, because that’s what I do best.
 
“Okay, good.
 
I’m just saying … I know this was a mistake, one we won’t be repeating, but thanks.
 
I mean … yeah.
 
Thanks.”
 
I am so lame, I can’t even stand myself.
 
Who thanks a guy for banging her on his couch?

“No, thank
you
,” he says, his voice sarcastic but distinctly joyful at the same time.
 
“I’m really looking forward to having you at my beck and call tomorrow.
 
It’s going to be fun.”

I sigh.
 
“Tarin, we’re not doing that.”

“Double or nothing.”

I cross my arms.
 
“No.”

“Yes.
 
Double or nothing or I shall call you Petula.”

“Petula?”
 
I’m trying not to laugh.

“That’s a slave name.
 
I read it somewhere.”

“No.
 
I’m not going to be Petula.”

“Double or nothing or I tell my agent I can’t work with you because I slept with you.”

I gasp with outrage.
 
“You wouldn’t!
 
You can’t!
 
That’s not fair!
 
You did this too!”

He shrugs.
 
“All’s fair in love and war … and since you keep trying to convince yourself you don’t even like me, I guess that makes this
war
.
 
Double or nothing.”
 
He takes a step closer.

I tap my foot.
 
He has me over a barrel and he knows it.
 
My Frankenstein cocktail buzzing brain cannot compute a way out of this mess except by taking his challenge.
 
Maybe it doesn’t want to not figure out the smart answer.
 
I can do this.
 
I can tell the truth or take a dare and get it over with.
 
I just can’t tell him I like him or how I really feel.

“Fine.
 
Truth or dare, but you can’t ask the same question.”

A very satisfied smile comes over his face as he moves closer.

I’m nervous again.
 
My heart is racing.
 
He’s staring at me, the smudged eyeliner, scruffy beard, and tattoos making him look like a rocker demon about to possess my soul.
 
I feel like letting him do it too, which is the scariest part of this scenario.

“Truth or dare, little girl,” he asks in a low growl.

“Truth,” I whisper, afraid if I say dare he’ll make me touch him again, and I know if I do that there will be no going back.

He closes the space between us and stops just in front of me.
 
“Okay … tell the truth … if I were to get down on my knees right here in front of you, and put my tongue between your legs and lick your clit until you come screaming, would you stop me?
 
Or would you let me do it?”

I nearly faint at his words.
 
My jaw drops open.
 
I stare at him and in that moment, I know he’s dead serious.
 
He will do this to me if I
just
don’t say no.

I practically come in my underwear just looking at him.
 
Two licks.
 
That’s all it will take.
 
Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.

My mouth moves around in imitation of speaking, but again, words escape me.

He reaches up and puts his hand over my breast, squeezing it and pinching the nipple through my dress.
 
He’s so bold and so uncouth, and I wouldn’t change that about him for all the money in the world.

I moan.
 
“Tarin … this is so unfair…”

Voices come from the hallway.
 
A split second after I move away from Tarin, the door bursts open and Scott walks in.
 
It’s like a cold shower, but with people watching me take it.
 
Horrible doesn’t begin to describe how it feels.

“Yo, yo, yo!
 
Don’t all you rock-n-roll fans rush me at once.
 
I don’t want you mess up my new threads.”

I turn around, my face frozen in shock and horror at what might have just happened.

“What?”
 
Scott looks at me, his expression going from pleased to confused.
 
He looks down at himself.
 
“You don’t like it do you?
 
Dammit, I knew it was too much.
 
Why didn’t you say anything before I got up on stage?”

I shake my head, unable to respond.

“Dude, it’s good.
 
You’re all good.” Tarin walks past me like we weren’t about to lick each other from head to toe in the middle of his family room and shakes Scott’s hand.
 
“Congrats, man.
 
You got skills.
 
If you want, we can hit the studio tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be awesome.”
 
Scott’s back to being thrilled with himself and I’m working on recovering from sexual shock.
 
I walk slowly around to the couch and pick up my shoes that are next to the coffee table.

“I’m going to bed,” I say, my voice not my own.
 
I shove my bra under the couch with my foot.
 
I’ll get it later.

“But I just got here,” whines Scott.
 
“Don’t you want to celebrate my awesome self?”

I kiss him on the cheek as I walk by.
 
“Tomorrow.
 
When I’m not as exhausted. You are awesome, though.
 
I am your biggest fan of all time.”

“Jack wants you to call him,” Scott says as I walk out the door.

I’m able to remain silent until I pass through the door.
 
Then I scream at the top of my lungs when I get out into the hallway, no longer able to manage the pressure.
 
The frustration echoes around my head, banging into my skull and making me wish I’d just held it all in.
 
Holy headache.

“What’s her problem?” asks Scott.

“She’s just frustrated.
 
She has to give me an ass massage tomorrow.”

I shut the door to the family room behind me to keep from hearing anymore of Tarin’s nonsense.
 
There is no way in hell I’m touching his ass, even though I now know it’s not really as hairy as he made it out to be.