Page 47 of Cocky Brutal Sinner

I give her one second. One second to decide.

Dare me, Brin.

Dare me to stop pretending the rest of our lives don’t exist. I’d say yes. You know I’d say yes. I can’t refuse you if you say it. You always know exactly which dares I can’t refuse.

But she doesn’t say the words. She doesn’t dare me.

Not this time.

So I do the only thing I can do.

I step forward, crowding her back against the counter. She has to raise her chin to meet my eyes, and fuck, I love how small she is compared to me. I take her jaw in one hand and plunge my fingers into the hair on her scalp, barely held back into a loose bun. I angle her face the way I want it and kiss her smart little mouth.

She doesn’t push me away, but she doesn’t fully open for me, either. She lets me kiss her, dropping her hands to hang down at her sides. Like she’s waiting for me to give up my pathetic attempt at distraction. The second I pull away, she’s going to ask me again.

What are we doing, Beau?

I can’t let that happen. I need her to be distracted. Thank god, I have five years of experience in just how Brinley likes to be touched. I know exactly what drives her crazy, and right now, I need to wield it like a weapon.

I drag my nails lightly down her scalp, tracing the sensitive skin behind her ears. I move that hand further down, stroking her neck at the same time my other hand grabs her hip and squeezes hard. Brinley trembles against me, her lips parting further as she welcomes my kiss. This is what she loves. The combination of hard and soft, brutality and sweetness. Not knowing how I’ll touch her next makes her breathless.

My hips pull away from hers, allowing space for her to chase me. That’s exactly what she does, arching her back to press her stomach against my hardening cock as I sweep my tongue through her mouth. I kiss away the lingering taste of the wine until Brinley is all I taste.

Please, let me keep kissing you. Don’t take that perfect taste away from me.

Her sundress has a low enough neckline that I only have to tug it a little to bring it down under her breasts, exposing her lace bra. Her nipples are already poking through the fabric, so I pinch them, drawing them into hard peaks. She gasps, pressing them even harder into my touch. Alternating soft circles and hard pinches makes her clutch the fabric of my shirt and hang on for dear life.

Her resistance is almost gone, her common sense almost kissed away. Her question from earlier floats away into oblivion. One good orgasm should distract her from it completely.

I grab her skirt, pulling up the fabric until it’s bunched up around her waist. She shudders as I cup her through her panties, my fingers tracing her seam. I grin when I find the cotton fabric already damp. I tease her clit gently while I roll her nipple roughly. This is where I take my time. Teasing her through her panties for long minutes on end, my mouth moving between her lips and her soft neck.

Brinley’s thighs close tight around my fingers. She wants more pressure, but she’s not going to get it. Not yet.

Not until she’s desperate.

My teeth drag down her neck and over her collarbone. I knead her breast roughly, but I don’t give her pressure where she wants it. Her hips buck and her thighs tremble. Short, rough breaths rack her chest. Her panties aren’t damp anymore—they’re fucking soaked.

“Please,” Brinley whimpers.

“Please what, Brinley baby?” I ask, lips grazing her forehead.

“I need to come. Please, touch me.”

I chuckle, low and cruel. “I am touching you.”

“You know what I mean!” She sounds desperate. She knows I’m holding out, that I know exactly what she wants. She buries her head against my shoulder and tugs at my shirt. I’ve made her wait for long enough.

I press my fingers hard against her clit, and the cries that fall from her lips make me fucking feral with want. She’s so close, I know it won’t take long. I only have to stroke her the right way a few more times before her thighs grip my hand like a vice. Her entire body trembles as the orgasm racks her, her thighs clamping tight around my hand.

Her eyes are glassy with pleasure, her mouth slack.

I drag my fingers out of her, slick to the second knuckle. Her gaze tracks them as I bring them up to her mouth.

“Open.”

She does, no hesitation, no question. I press my fingers past her lips and feel her tongue close around them.

“That's it, Brinley baby. Taste what you do to me. Taste what I do to you.” My thumb drags across her lower lip when she lets me go, glistening.