Page 67 of Wicked Heat

“Fair enough.” He returns his hand to the steering wheel.

I want to cry. Mostly, I want to laugh. I haven’t been this turned on—or had this much fun with a man—since… well, since ever.

There were boyfriends before Rory, sure. But mostly there’d been school and work and just… dates. No sparks. No real heat. I’d liked sex, but it had never been like this.

“Fine,” I say, hoping I sound perturbed rather than turned on. I bite my lower lip, and then, slowly, I tug the bodice down to free my breasts. My nipples are hard and sensitive, and I close my eyes as I tease them, letting the sensations wash over me, waiting for his fingers to slip inside me again and send me tumbling into that sweet oblivion.

“Baby, you are making me so hard.”

The words are like a caress, and I feel my core tighten, my body begging for more.

“Go ahead,” he says. “You know what you want.”

A whisper of fear washes over me, but I ignore it. Instead, I slide one hand down over the silky material of the dress. It’s still ruched up high on my thighs, and I tease it up a bit more, then slide my hand over my shaved pussy until my fingertip finds my clit and my body trembles from the rush of pure, sensual electricity.

I bite my lower lip, then glance over at Ash. His body is tense, his eyes on the road, but he’s adjusted the mirror so that it reflects me rather than the highway behind us. And the hand that had earlier been touching me is now slowly stroking his cock.

A wild needs cuts through me, so intense that I feel my core clench and my nipples tighten. I fight the urge to squirm. To find the release I’m craving.

“Don’t fight it,” he says. “Take yourself over.”

“Ash.” I’m sure he can hear the need in my voice. I’m lost in a sea of lust. I barely even know myself in this moment, and I’m not sure if he’s tormenting me or saving me.

I want to do it. I crave the release.

And yet I see the truck approaching on the right, another one following close behind.

“Trust me,” he says, the heat in his voice pushing back the tendrils of fear. “The way you look now is only for me.”

“And how do I look?”

He turns his attention away from the road only long enough to skim a glance over me. “Powerful.”

The word envelops me, somehow more sensual than any other word he could have chosen. And yet I still feel unsure. Inadequate somehow. “Powerful?” I whisper. “Not sexy or beautiful?”

I want to cringe from the neediness in my voice, but if he hears it, he makes no indication. Instead, he simply says, “Power is sexy. Power is beauty. You’re both, Brianna. Don’t you know that?”

I blink, forcing myself not to cry. I tell myself I’m just overwhelmed. There’s a ransom on my privacy, after all. And I’m selling myself to pay for it. Of course, I’m stressed. Of course, tears will flow.

But the tears aren’t stress, and I know it, even if I don’t want to think it. The tears are joy. Because Ash sees me. All of me.

I gasp out a choked little sound as I realize that I now understand what Rory and his cohorts took away from me. That this is what I’d never had. And without Ash—without someone stepping in and taking control — I never would have understood that I want to surrender. Not because I’m forced to. But because I need to.

But only to the right man.

Right now, that man is Ash.

With a start, I realize that this may be the first time I’ve truly owned what I want. I’d had sex before I was taken, of course. But I’d always let the guy lead. Though perhaps let isn’t the right word. There’d never seemed to be a choice.

With Ash, it’s different. Because even though our deal is that he has me however he wants me, right now, I’m the one with the power.

And what an odd feeling that is.

For a moment, I simply look at him. He takes his eyes off the road long enough to glance my direction, one eyebrow raised in that sexy way he has. “I believe you have your orders.”

I do. And as the trucks come closer and closer, I shut my eyes and slip two fingers inside myself.

I tease my clit and imagine it’s Ash touching me. Ash kissing me. Ash fucking me.