Her Troika (34 page)

"Inside, Breanna." He pointed. "I'll be there in a minute."

Nodding, she disappeared into the room, one of the side table lamps flickering on, splashing the hallway with warm, yellow light.

You cannot do this. You've already gone way past where you should have.

Dumping his keys and wallet on the counter, he unbuttoned his shirt, yanking it from his jeans. His cock was hard, throbbing, and he winced knowing he was unlikely to find any relief for it tonight. He needed to keep his mind on what he was supposed to do, rather than on how much he wanted to fuck her.

Yeah, right.

"This is so fucking stupid, Derek,” he whispered. “Just tell her to put her clothes on then take her home."

He didn't want to though. No, he wanted to do
anything
but that. There was a beautiful woman, lying on his bed, half naked. A woman who would let him — who would want him to — do anything he pleased to her.

What kind of an asshole turned down a dream come true?

In your dream the girl isn't your friend's wife.

Absurd, really. He'd already fucked her, made her suck his cock. Used her. So why was this any different?

It
was
different — because this wasn't some fantasy anymore. This was real, this was really happening.

He looked down the hallway, his finger flicking one of his keys back and forth across the black tile of his kitchen counter.

"Better get this over with, asshole."

Steeling himself for what he might find, he walked into his room, the one floorboard the landlord could never quite fix squeaking under his boot. The light from the small lamp illuminated the curves of Breanna's bottom, the sweat forming at the small of her back. Her legs were tight together, extending behind her in a straight, tense line, the lavender string of her thong emerging from the top of the crevice of tanned buttocks. There was one bruise still on her lower left cheek, the color now faded to a ghostly shadow of its formerly livid glory.

"That still hurt? When you sit on it?" He cleared his throat, the lump there making his voice sound muddled.

"Um, what?"

"That bruise. I'm surprised it's still visible."

"You did a good job." Her voice was muffled a bit from the bedspread, her body vibrating with tension. "It doesn't hurt, though."

He sat next to her, the springs whispering under him. He couldn't resist palming the glory of that round ass, its mouthwatering perfection, the heavenly softness of her flesh something he knew he'd never tire of feeling under his hand.

"Breanna, I —"

"It's okay, you know."

He glanced over at her. "What is?"

"To spank me, to — want to hurt me."

"What the hell would you say..." He shifted his hand to her far cheek, pulling her close, the curve of her hip against his leg.

"I want you to, Derek. There's no reason not to be who you are — with me."

"How do you know who that is?" His hand squeezed her ass, hard, and she sucked in a quick breath.

"At the farm. That was the real, Derek. Are you going to deny it?"

"No ..."

"Then let that real Derek out — and never hide him away ever again." She turned toward him, curling her warm, inviting body around his lower back. "Take that chance, Derek. Please."

"The farm was ... a dream."

Did he even believe his own words, though? He could feel his will to resist her crumbling, the vision of her kneeling before him flashing through his mind.

"Kurt. What about Kurt?"

"You don't think he gets anything out of this?" Her hand stroked his thigh.

"How could he? He's not here."

"That's exactly the point," she said, the smile evident in her voice. She clutched tighter to him, the soft pillows of her breasts pressing to his back. "The last test, Derek. The last step..."

"To what?" He leaned into her, bringing one of her long legs over his lap, the heat of her sex against his hip.

"To you accepting me — accepting us. That we could make this work."

"By screwing his wife? Alone?" He sighed. “I feel like a fucking dirt bag, Breanna. Even considering what we've done, it still feels wrong."

She slid back off the bed, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as she stood. Looking down upon him, she reached back to unclasp her bra, the white lace falling away, her heavy breasts bursting forth, his hands already itching to squeeze them cruelly.

Her head tilted, her hands on her hips. “When I next see Kurt, he'll make me tell him everything. Every detail. He'll make me kneel at his feet and play with my pussy while I tell him what it felt like to have your cock stretch me, how hard you spanked me." Her eyes sparkled in the warm, yellow light of the lamp. "Then he'll make me thank him the way a good wife does. While I choke on his cock, he'll ask me who I belong to, who owns this body." She reached out, her delicate fingers stroking the stubble at his jaw. "And do you know what the answer will be, Derek? The answer he'll want me to say? To believe? Know?"

"I don't ..."

Breanna dropped to her knees, the fluidity of the motion bespeaking long practice. Her hands eased up his thighs, his balls vibrating with an electric pleasure. Leaning close, her lips tickled at his ear, the whisper of breath against his temple. "Both of you. I belong to both of you now, Derek."

Surging up off the bed, he caught her by the shoulders, lifting her, and did the one thing he'd ached to do all weekend, but hadn't the courage.

Kiss her.

Breathing shocked delight into his mouth, she purred as his tongue explored the wet, yielding of her mouth, his teeth nibbling her lips, catching her little tongue between them. He'd missed this so much. It was something he feared he'd never feel again, might never deserve to feel again.

Closeness.

Her hands roamed up his neck, fingers playing with his hair as she returned his kisses, her breath hot, rasping, her passion rising. He was a Dom — he accepted that now — yet letting her have this, explore him as much as he explored her, felt right somehow. Now he'd put all that aside — and make love to her as a man loved a woman. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Derek, please! I need you." Her mouth pressed hard kisses to his neck, his ear, his cheek. "Inside me. Please."

He held her close, reaching up to clasp her chin in his hand, stilling her movements. "Missed this," he whispered. "God, I missed this."

"Never again," she said, smiling up at him with those achingly beautiful blue eyes, planting a gentle kiss on his finger as he felt the softness of her lips. "You'll never be without it again, Derek. You've got me now."

"No, you don't understand." He held her tight, even as he feared she'd bolt, feared at any moment she'd deprive him of the magic of her touch. "What I need, what I am. You don't ..."

She kissed him again, hard, then stared up into his eyes, her gaze fierce. "Give it all to me, Derek. All that you are, all that darkness, all that hurt, that rage. Pour it into me. Break me with it — I'll take all of it. Fill me up — and let it go." She hugged herself close, pressing tiny kisses to the hollow of his neck, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And let me love you — all of you, Derek. Just let me love you."

Could this be real? Was it possible that he'd finally found it? Did he deserve the chance, despite everything? No matter how wrong this was? He had to risk it, had to hope again — take that leap.

To accept love again. To accept that he
deserved
love again.

"Breanna, I'm — this is so fucked up." He inhaled deeply, his body shuddering, his hands caressing the smooth muscles of her back, her head thrown back with a groan as his lips tasted the tender flesh at the join between shoulder and neck, tasted of her yielding vulnerability.

"Derek, you don't need—"

"Shh," he said, squeezing the weight of one of her soft buttocks in his hand. "Let me get this out." He pulled back, locking his gaze with hers. "I know this is so wrong, no matter what you say. No matter what he says. But there's one more thing wrong with this. No matter what I do, what I say, what I tell myself ten thousand times a day, it's the same thing I know the first moment I wake, and the last moment before sleep." He caressed the smoothness of her cheek, his thumb easing over her bottom lip. "It's the one thing. I think I'm falling in love with my friend's wife. I'm falling in love with you, Breanna."

She clasped his head in both hands, her soft lips against his, a flash in her gaze. "Then show me what a man does with the woman he loves. Show me what the real Derek wants."

It was a challenge, another test — and it was time to show this bewitching woman just who was in charge here. Time to be who he was, even if only for one more night.

“You’re forgetting your place here, Breanna.”

“And what’s that?” Her gaze leveled with him, defiant. “I’m not interested in soft men, in men afraid of themselves. If that’s what I’m dealing with here, I’ll just show myself out.”

He lowered his chin, his voice dropping to a rumble. “You’re not going anywhere. I think you’re going to regret pushing your luck. Stop now, while you’re ahead, and keep that smart mouth shut.”

“Make me.”

His fist tangled in the thick tresses of her hair, and he wrenched her head back, her mouth dropping open with a surprised gasp. “Gladly, bad girl.”

Her hands pushed at his chest, but he dragged her downward as he sat on the foot of his bed, using his grip on her hair to pull her head close. Her breath rasped, her breasts heaving. He nipped her ear, her body tensing at the smart. “Lay over my lap. Don’t say a fucking word, or you’ll regret it.”

“Go fu—”

His palm slapped her ass, hard, the sound like a pistol shot, making her jump. She whined as his implacable grip on her hair yanked the roots. “Down. Now, Breanna.”

Her gaze caught his under the wild fringe of her tresses, her eyes searching, uncertain.

“You’re going to have plenty to report to Kurt about tonight, Breanna.” He hauled her by the hair over his thighs, until she sprawled forward with a groan. “First, we’ll take care of that spanking you so badly need.”

Taking his time, he tipped her forward until she balanced just right, his hand clenching in her hair again, getting a better grip. He tucked her hips close, making sure she felt the rampant erection tenting his jeans. “Just be still now. I’m going to spank this pretty ass of yours, and there’s not a thing you can do about it.” He pulled her head up by her hair, whispering in her ear. “You’re not gonna sit comfortably for a week.”

He pressed her head back down, his hand coursing along her neck, following the bumps of her vertebrae. Clasping her narrow waist, he held her still, folding her even tighter over his thighs, squeezing her body closer until she gasped. His hand stroked the satiny skin of her buttocks, his thumb circling that faded bruise. “I love this ass.”

With a loud crack, he smacked his palm over that bruise, her body jerking. “Ever since I watched you in the stall, crying over Kurt’s lap as he turned this ass red, I’ve thought of this. Having you to myself, what I’d do to you if I got that same chance.” He squeezed the soft flesh of her buttock. “So what do you think I’ll do, Breanna? Do you think I should go easy on you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“What was that? Speak up.”

“Yes … Sir.”

“Better,” he rumbled, caressing the trembling muscles of her thighs. “And do you think I
will
go easy on you?”

“No, Sir.”

“You’re right.”

Without further preamble he began spanking her, each smack loud in the quiet room, her body staying still, her muscles thrumming with tension. Giving her a little pat to sight each blow, he smacked down with full force, loving the way her flesh rippled with every spank. He knew how much the feel of her flesh moving under his smacks would mortify her, how her bottom wobbled under his punishing palm. He alternated cheeks at first, then concentrated on each one individually, raining hard blows from the top of her hips down to mid-thigh, the latter making her tense and groan at each smack.

“I never would have guessed you’d have an ass like this, Breanna. You’re so athletic, so tall, but you’ve got this little soft, round bottom.” He smacked down on the center of it, both cheeks flattening, then rebounding under the hard blow. “I can see why Kurt likes to have you over his knee. I think I’d spank you every day, if you were mine.”

“I am,” she said in a strained, muffled voice.

“What?” He slapped both thighs in quick succession and she cried out, the hamstrings rigid cords under his hand.

“I am … yours,” she whimpered, her voice breaking on the last word.

He wanted it to be true, even if it was only for tonight. Tomorrow that dream would fade with the dawn, but now, as evening gave way to the night, he’d live it, make the most of it, savor her, enjoy her as if it was his last night he’d ever have.

He peppered her ass with more harsh blows, delighting in the way her buttocks shivered and jiggled at each smack. He pressed a palm to the warm flesh, easing her cleft open.