Seduced by Three (4 page)

“I’m not negotiating. I’m informing you of my plans.” She attempted to turn away from him, but he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to him with a strong jerk of his arm. “You will do as I say, period.” One of his thighs wedged between her legs, and the front of his pants rubbed on her hip bone. “There will be consequences if you run off half-cocked.”

Grace’s eyes blazed at him as she pushed him away and then slapped his face, hard. “You touch me again, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Her expression was livid as she ripped herself out of his grasp. She was halfway to the house when he turned to appreciate her retreat. And he
did
appreciate the sight before him. He watched her until she disappeared through the screen door. No, he more than watched her. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from her.

He threw his shovel down after the screen door slammed. Grace Hunter was under his skin. Nobody got under his skin. Or at least if they did, they never got the satisfaction of knowing it, seeing it. He’d had little sleep. He was too agitated.

He walked into his house and went directly to the cabinet where he stored his booze. He pulled out a glass and poured an inch of tequila in the bottom. It took him a mere second to down the liquid and pour another. He took a deep breath as he tried to relax, tried to release his pent-up arousal and anger. He took the second glassful of liquid and carried it, along with the bottle, to his bedroom, closing then locking the door behind him.

Sarge sat on the edge of his bed and looked around the room. Black and gray. Leather and mirrors. There were hidden hooks to support the weight of whatever willing submissive he’d brought home. It was the only room in the house that he’d taken any time to decorate. It was him, the real him.

He shook his head. When he seduced a woman, it wasn’t a reaction to his cock thinking for him. He knew exactly what he was going to do, and where he was going with it. But right now, his thoughts were a riot of disorder. With a curse, he picked up the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand and threw it powerfully across the room, leaving a dent in the wall. It was definitely time for him to take stock of himself. He was a disciplined man. Always had been. always would be.

Only one day with Grace and he felt compelled to take her on. And as always, the more unruly the woman, the greater his need tame her. And Grace was downright incorrigible.

He rubbed his palm over his short, military cropped hair and blew out a sigh of frustration.

He opened up the small trunk he had next to his bed and scanned the interior. It was littered with the evidence of his need to preside over and control his sexual encounters.

Sarge freed his raging hard-on from his pants, squirted lube in his hand, and sat back down on the bed. It wasn’t hard to get a picture of Grace into his head. All he had to do was remember her lying as he had found her the night before, in her thong and tank top.

She crawled toward him on all fours, reaching out and grasping his cock in her two hands. She held it firmly, guiding it toward her soft, pink lips. She sucked him deep into the hot recesses of her mouth.

Tangling his fist in the hair at the back of her head and tilting her face up toward him, he smiled down at her.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered and stroked her cheek.

He placed his hands on each side of her face. The blunt tip of his cock slid between her lips. He fucked her mouth as deeply as his cock could go, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into her, wanting more. Her moans vibrated his hard-on to the brink of orgasm. Her ass, with the thin strip of material disappearing between her cheeks, moved with the up-and-down motion of her head, her mouth. Oh fuck yes!

Sarge pounded the muscle between his legs with force, pushing himself quickly to the brink of a brusque release.

Not sated, but not overwhelmed with sexual need, he waited for his breathing to even out before he cleaned himself up and pulled on his pants. He grabbed another glass of tequila and downed the liquid easily. Now, maybe he could think more clearly.

He’d never had this intensity of feeling for a woman after knowing her for such a short while. He wanted to protect Grace, dominate her, and mark her as his own. She would be a difficult woman to convince to submit. But, to him, that was all part of his role as Dom.

The women who had really turned him on, the ones he had to try harder not to have feelings for, were similar. His thoughts traveled to Julia. Julia and Grace looked very different, but they were cut from the same cloth. They were both fuck-you-up-and-take-names-later females, hardened and powerful. They were an irresistible pursuit, and he made it a personal challenge to tame women like them. Discipline them. Take them and make them want to submit. Oh, fuck yes. He wanted Grace to submit to every fucking whim he had.

He
was
going to get what he wanted.

Her heart hammered as she paced back and forth in the cool dimness of the shelter. What the fuck? That grab had come out of nowhere. He had startled her, and she didn’t like to be caught off guard. It diminished her control, took the firm grasp she always had on her environment away from her.

Inhaling deeply through her nose and releasing the breath slowly out of her mouth, she calmed herself, and took inventory of her emotions. Her murderous reaction was just that, a reaction. No thought process. Just the basic get-your-cock-off-of-me reflex.

Grace’s stomach fluttered. His cock had been hard.

Oh, no. The flutter thing needed to go away.

Grace lowered herself into one of the chairs at the dinette close to the bed.

This was all too much to process. She wrestled with the events of the past twenty-four hours, trying to categorize and compartmentalize the life-changing circumstances and associated feelings. She was so
not
good at this. Her dad had equipped her well with so many skills, but processing emotions was not one of them. Being emotional, especially when it came to men, was completely contrary to her stability.

She had to cool it. Just had to adjust, find her bearings. Grace took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, collecting herself. After a few minutes, she stopped her random pacing with the realization that she didn’t need his help. She didn’t need anybody. It was time to pull a Dorothy, click her heels together and go home. Her dad had raised her to be self-sufficient and independent, not a clinger. Not a pathetic woman who needed a man to “save” her. She would not only survive on her own, she would thrive. Without a doubt, she knew she could do it. She would make her dad proud.

When she heard Sarge opening the secret cubby door and coming down the stairs, Grace stood. “I’m leaving,” she said determinedly. Her hard stare dared him to argue with her decision.

“Why?”

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief, but stayed calm. “Really? You’re going to play it that way?” She paused, giving him a chance to answer, but he didn’t. “I’ve known you less than a day, and you’re already grabbing me and rubbing your dick against me.”

“And If I promise not to rub my dick against you, you’ll stay?” he asked with a low, throaty voice.

She ground her teeth together in an effort to keep her exasperation in check. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t need to be here.” She faced him, confident in herself.

“No, I agree, you don’t.” He stepped closer to her. “But passing the time could be much more…fulfilling here with me.” The low rumble of his words sent a waft of alcohol-scented air in her direction.

“You’re drunk.”

“No, not yet. Would you like to join me?” He held his bottle of tequila in her direction. His coal-black eyes danced in anticipation of her response.

Damn, he was a dangerous threat to her resolve. The devilish glitter in his eyes when he raked them up and down her body started a cascade of physical reactions that washed over her. An awakening of her desire moved through her, warm and intimate. Her mouth watered even as she tried to moisten her suddenly dry lips. Her heart raced. Her nipples hardened, and she could see the slight movement of her tank top from the pounding beat of her heart. Nervous butterflies flitted around inside her torso. This man definitely had the potential to wear her down and weaken her willpower. The chemistry between them was undeniable. Grace knew he felt it, too, because he looked at her like she was already his.

“No, I’m not going to join you,” she said as she grabbed her duffel and walked toward the stairs.

Sarge stepped toward her and hooked her around the waist, stopping her progress. “I can’t let you do this. It’s too dangerous out there right now.” The heat from the gravelly words spoken right next to her ear sent a shiver down her spine. He knew exactly what his actions were doing to her and it pissed her off.

Grace regained her balance from the sudden stop and swung her arm, punching him on the side of his face.

Sarge laughed low in his throat. “Feisty. I like feisty.” Then he wrapped his arm around her waist, lifted her, and carried her like a laundry basket, wedging her against his hip.

Grace tried to get away from him, and for a moment, she thought she’d gotten loose, until he chuckled again and tightened his hold on her. He was toying with her.

“Now you’re getting me all worked up with that wiggling around,” he said, smiling.

“Put me down,” she seethed.

He did. He threw her on the bed, straddled her waist, and held her hands above her head. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Grace gasped at the sensation of his weight on top of her. “Get off,” she said through clenched teeth, horrified by the pleasure she took from his body over hers. Moisture gathered from deep inside her, coating the walls of her vagina and ultimately seeping onto the material between her legs.

He leaned over her. His lips brushed her ear. “Are you going to stay put, Gracie?” The moist tip of his tongue trailed the outer shell of her ear. “Or do I have to tie you down?”

She absorbed the sensuous dare, felt the hot air hit her ear, along with his words, and almost groaned out loud before she snapped her mouth shut.

She was infuriated, both with him and herself. She recognized and then condemned the small part of her that loved his sexual aggression and the confident guarantee of ecstasy in the undertones of his voice. Pressing her lips together, not trusting herself to hold back the words of defiance that were balancing precariously on the tip of her tongue, she sighed and stopped struggling.

He looked reluctant when he let go of her arms and swung his leg off of her. “Okay, truce?” he asked.

She sat up on the bed and gave him the coldest stare she could muster. It didn’t seem to faze him a bit. This man didn’t react to her cold rejection like others did. In fact, it seemed like the harder she fought, the more sexually aggressive he became.

Grace picked up the bottle of tequila he’d brought down with him and drew two long gulps from it before setting the bottle on the cement floor next to her.

“Come on, Gracie,” his deep voice goaded her. “I promise next time I rub on you, it will be because you want me to.” His eyes slowly perused her body.

Grace snorted. “Don’t hold your breath.” Silence fell between them while she gathered her thoughts together. “Listen, I’ll stay until I think it’s safe for me to make the trip back home. But, we need to set some ground rules. I’m not some wallflower who you can order around. I make my own decisions. Got it?”

“Damn you’re sexy when you’re riled,” he said, stepping forward and taking the bottle off the floor. He took a long gulp then set the bottle on the table. “It’s going to be so much fun taming that stubborn streak you have. You ever been handcuffed, Gracie? Have you ever given a man the privilege of your total submission?”

Grace realized that he was purposely antagonizing her. Two could play that game.

She looked at him in the eye. “Yes, I have,” she taunted. “But you’re going to have to imagine what that privilege would be like, because you’re never going to get it.”

Sarge groaned. “You underestimate me, sweet Gracie. You underestimate me.”

Involuntarily, Grace’s eyes flicked to the front of his pants. His erection bulged, large and looming, as if offering a promise. The corner of Sarge’s mouth tilted upward. He’d seen her not-so-subtle glance and let her know it with the glitter in his eyes and his knowing grin. Then, he picked up his bottle and walked up the stairs.

There was still a part of her that wanted to pick up her bag and get back home. But that part had gotten smaller after this last verbal exchange while the part of her that was excited by him grew stronger. Their verbal combat had turned her on. She was stubborn and oppositional. She knew this about herself. She also knew she pushed Sarge away out of fear more than any other emotion. He would grow less interested in her as he got to know her. Few men stayed interested in alpha females. She was a curiosity, not relationship material. This way was always better. She would reject him before he rejected her.

After Steve, a consistent evasion of emotional attachment had worked well for her since she realized with brutal clarity that she was not the kind of woman men wanted, that the sweet words disappeared after she failed to conform to their expectations of how a woman should act.

So many times in the past, she’d told herself this one is different. They never were.

Grace had to admit she liked Sarge’s desire for her. He may be exactly what she needed in her life, strong, sexy, and aggressive. Wasn’t that what she’d been looking for? Weren’t those the qualities she found sexy in the bad boys she’d been attracted to? This man was incorrigible, and a small part of her liked it. She shook her head and snorted. She was doing it again, talking herself into why this one was different.

With his aggressive sexuality staring her in the face every hour of every day, it would be harder for her to maintain control, to stay at a safe emotional distance. Especially since a part of her wanted him already. Common sense had to prevail.

Impulsivity was her Achilles’ heel and was something she battled with regularly. Because of this, her dad had tried to teach her not to rush into decisions. He said that the right choices usually made themselves apparent with time. Over the years, Grace found that advice to be true, at least when she’d had enough impulse control to follow it.

Her dad. Grace tilted her head to the side, and a slow smile crossed her face as she remembered his utterly candid way of dealing with her. She had never, not once in her life, seen her dad do anything as sneaky as this. Despite all the skills he’d taught her, he still talked about the importance of having a man in her life, one who could provide and care for her, whom she could have a family with. Was this some kind of apocalyptic matchmaking scheme he’d cooked up? She shook her head. Whatever it was, he’d never led her wrong before. Ever. Her dad had known Sarge and called him a friend for years. She just had to trust him.

This situation called for a precedent. She was going to assert her independence from Sarge. She opened her duffel and grabbed a clean thong and put it in her pocket. After she picked up her gun and tucked it in her waistband, she quietly walked up the shelter stairs, exited through the closet, and replaced the false wall so the opening wasn’t visible.

Grace unlocked the dead bolt on the front door of the house and slipped out. It was late in the day. There were people out in their yards barbecuing and hanging out with their neighbors. It looked like one big block party. She shook her head.
Unbelievable!
These people were completely clueless.

She stopped to get her bearings so she could find Sarge’s home when she returned in the dark and then headed north. Less than five minutes later, she saw the marked path to the Clifton Piers.

The long slabs of concrete jutted out about a foot higher than the dark water of the lake. There were still way too many people on the beach and piers to do what she wanted to do, so she found a concealed area in a grove of trees and high grass, away from the beach, and waited for the stragglers to return back to their homes. It seemed to take forever for everybody to end their day of fishing and pack it up.

When the coast was finally clear, she moved out of the trees and entered the pier area. In the unfamiliar pitch-black darkness of a nighttime with no ambient lighting, she searched thoroughly for any signs of life. There were none. She quickly ran to the end of one of the concrete piers, stripped herself naked, and slipped quietly into the lake.