This went on for four days straight, until he finally said, “No dice today, Ms. Ames.”
“Call me Addie.”
“No dice, Addie. Find your own way home.” Braden got in his truck and left her there, hands upon her hips.
He hadn’t seen the last of her. He knew that. But he was tired of her games.
He hadn’t given her any reason to think she had a chance, though he was close to losing control around her. She was beautiful, and she was offering.
His age, which he’d used the first night to keep himself in check, wasn’t working anymore. He was still damned young with a damned strong libido.
So this had to stop now.
Unless…
Could she possibly give him what he wanted?
He wasn’t looking for love, but he wouldn’t mind a roll in the hay. Several rolls even, as long as they were on his terms.
The next day, she wasn’t waiting for him after work.
Good enough. No roll in the hay, and that was okay, too. She’d finally gotten the message.
He drove home, and—
“Fuck,” he said under his breath.
Addison Ames, this time dressed in a trench coat—yeah, a trench coat in this heat—was waiting outside the door to his apartment.
Braden’s jeans were covered in sawdust, and what seemed like five layers of grime covered his body and lay beneath his fingernails.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“What do you think?”
“I’m exhausted.” He unlocked his door. “I don’t have time for these games. Go slumming somewhere else.”
She pushed out her lower lip, and he couldn’t help himself. He thought about biting it.
Hard.
“You sure that’s what you want?” she teased.
No, he wasn’t sure at all. In fact, despite his fatigue, he was getting hard.
Fuck. Just what he didn’t need.
“That’s what I want,” he said gruffly.
She opened her trench coat. “Still sure?”
Chapter Forty-Seven
“Seriously? She flashed you in the parking lot?”
“She did.” Braden nods.
“And since you’re a guy…”
“I was younger then,” he says, as if that’s a good excuse. “Hey, you wanted to know all this.”
I sigh. “You’re right. Go on.”
…
Mother fuck.
She wore a leather bra with holes for her nipples. And those nipples were clamped. Already clamped. Fucking god damn.
She’d replaced the pink jewel in her navel with an onyx barbell, and the only thing covering the rest of her was a black leather thong.
She pulled a black riding crop out of her pocket.
“You’ll never use that on me,” he said.
“I know.” She inched closer to him. “You’re going to use it on me.”
He was tired. So tired. And horny.
He didn’t know this woman. Hell, she was barely a woman. But she was legal, and that was all that mattered.
“I need a shower,” he said, more to himself than to her.
“Fine. Take one.” She closed the distance between them, her clamped nipples nearly touching his chest. “And it doesn’t have to be cold.”
He was done fighting her. She wanted this? Fine. He’d give it to her. But on his terms.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, meeting her horny gaze. “If I let you in, if we do this, we do it my way, got it?”
“Absolutely. I know what you like.”
“How the hell would you know?”
“I’ve done my research, Mr. Black. Lots of research.”
“What the hell kind of research would tell you what I like?”
“Trade secret.” She smiled coyly. “But you like what I’m wearing, don’t you?”
He couldn’t deny it. She was a Dominant’s wet dream. But he wasn’t a Dominant. Not really. He liked bondage especially, and he wasn’t averse to spanking and flogging, but to have total domination over someone? That wasn’t him. He couldn’t imagine it.
…
“You couldn’t?” I ask.
“I’ve told you before,” Braden says. “We were both young and inexperienced. Neither of us knew what we were doing.”
“But—”
He places his fingers over my lips. “Shh. We’ll get there.”
…
He had no idea how Addie knew his tastes, but somehow she did. “I need your consent,” he said.
“You have it.”
“And I’m going to give you a safe word.”
“Whatever you want.”
He opened the door and allowed her to enter his apartment. “Your safe word is black.”
“Your name?”
“My last name, yeah.”
“What if I call out your name in passion?”
“Then you’ll call out my first name.”
“No. I want to call out Mr. Black.”
This was getting creepy now. “Do you have some kind of daddy fetish or something?”
“Don’t be silly. You’re way too young to be my daddy.”
“I am, but I’m not into that. You will not call me Mr. Black. Understand?”
She smiled again. “Of course. Whatever you want, sir.”
Sir. Hmm. He could live with that. “Good. Call me sir. And your safe word is black.”
…
“You never asked me to call you sir,” I say. “And you’ve never given me a safe word.”
“For God’s sake, Skye, would you just let me finish? You’ve been pestering me for weeks to tell you all this. I’m not the same man I was then. Are you the same as you were eleven years ago?”