Conflagration Read online

  After placing one more kiss on her forehead, I point a crutch out in front of me. “Lead the way,” I tell her.

  She gives me a beaming smile, making her way to the Wheel of Fortune game, where she really is in her element. Looking around, I see the giant claw machine and can’t pass up the chance to win Ariana a memento to keep from our first date. With a kiss on the cheek, I tell her where I’m headed, but she’s so focused on the game that she barely notices.

  After failing to capture anything the first few times, I set my crutches aside and take my time, studying the layout of the machine, walking around the sides, and bending down to check each angle until I’m satisfied I can get a win.

  My hand’s working the joystick and I’m completely focused on my target when I feel a hand slipping around my waist, causing me to jump. My thumb slips and accidentally presses down on the trigger, and I watch as the claw comes up empty.

  “Goddammit,” I mutter, turning to see Ariana looking up at me with amusement, a shitload of tickets in her hand. “I was just about to win that fucking blue bear,” I grumble.

  She looks from me to the side of the machine, where my winnings have piled up. Okay, so I may have hit a lucky streak and have been able to get four various stuffed items out of the machine, but I was on a roll and didn’t want to stop.

  “I think you’ve won enough, babe,” she laughs.

  “Anything else you want to do?” I ask, watching as she loads her arms up with my winnings.

  “No, I’m good. Tonight’s been so much fun, Branson, but I think I’m ready to see what comes next.”

  “Baby, the last few weeks have been a preview of what comes next,” I tell her, though I’m just as anxious to get this date moving right along.

  She pats my cheek. “Oh, Branson, you’re so adorable. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  I raise an eyebrow, challenging her. Then I let my eyes sweep down her body, because, hell yeah, I’ve seen it all.

  “Tonight, you’re giving up control, and I can’t freaking wait.” With that, she turns on her heel and starts walking towards the door, leaving me standing here with my dick hardening as the ideas of what she plans on doing roll through my mind.

  Snapping out of it, I follow after her, wondering how in the hell I’m going to be able to make it all the way home without ripping her clothes off in the limo. Somehow, someway, I’ll do it, but it’ll be fucking hard.

  AS I leave Branson to let those words marinate, I hurry outside and towards the limo, not waiting for the limo driver to open the door before I slide in and set his stuffed treasures on the seat across from me. Finding the champagne bottle still chilling on ice, I grab it and bring it to my lips, quickly chugging as much as I can before I hear Branson’s voice outside the door. I take one last swallow and replace it, jumping over to my seat and wiping my mouth, hoping the liquid courage will help me with this whole ‘taking control’ thing.

  I’ve been anticipating being able to be a more active partner when it comes to our sex life, but the closer it gets, the more nervous I become. Until this point, any time I’ve been on top, he hasn’t allowed me to move, barely letting me roll my hips out of fear of my stitches getting messed up. Even after my stitches were removed, he refused—thanks to the doctor’s orders. Now that I’ve gotten permission, though, I plan on making up for all that lost time, even if he doesn’t think he can give up control to me.

  The door opens and Branson sticks his crutches in. Then he sits and slides across the bench seat until he’s right next to me. He eyes me suspiciously and then looks at the bottle. Leaning in, he kisses the side of my mouth before pulling back slightly.

  “You had a little leftover there,” he whispers, playfully nipping at my lip.

  With a shrug, I glance at him. “What can I say? I was thirsty.”

  “Mmmhmm,” is all I get from him as he puts his arm around me.

  I lean in to rest my head on his chest. “Tonight was the best, babe,” I tell him, turning and lifting up to place a kiss on his cheek.

  He smiles down at me, a beautiful, happier-than-hell smile, as he starts teasing me about my less-than-awesome dances moves. I don’t mind; I know I have no rhythm, but it wasn’t about that. As soon as the music started, I knew I wasn’t going to be coordinated enough to do well, but I also felt his eyes on me, knowing he was watching, so I didn’t care if I sucked at the game.

  The rest of the ride, we laugh and joke about the various games we played, and he loves teasing me about the basketball hitting my head. He even goes as far as to check to see if I have a bump, and I playfully push his hand away, trying to mask my own laughter. Before I know it, the side door’s opening and all of my anxiety about what’s to come bubbles up to the surface.

  As Branson’s thanking the driver, I make my way inside and head to the kitchen, pouring us each a glass of wine. I resist the urge to gulp down half of mine when I hear the front door open. Branson joins me, setting his crutches aside, resting one hip against the counter, and taking the glass from me as I hand it to him. His brace is gone, and he’s standing there, barefoot, looking sexy as sin.

  All of a sudden, ‘barefoot in the kitchen’ takes on a whole new meaning.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk so you can have your wicked way with me?” he teases, his voice low and husky. He lifts the glass to his lips and downs half the contents in one fell swoop.

  “It looks like you don’t mind,” I say, gesturing to the glass.

  He grins and presses it back to his lips, tipping his head back and finishing it off. As he sets the empty glass on the counter next to him, he gives me a heated look.

  “Don’t get used to it,” he warns.

  I feel my belly flutter with anticipation. I’ve never been overtly sexual, at least not until I met Branson, so riding him wildly is going to be a new challenge for me. One I hope is good enough that he’ll want me to get used to it.

  As I finish my wine, I take a deep breath, telling myself that this is it. Showtime.

  His eyes watch as I slip out of my sandals, my hands coming up to slowly lift my shirt off. My fingers fumble slightly on the button on my shorts, and he starts to move forward—to help, no doubt—but I hold my hand up, stopping him in his tracks. As I step out of my shorts, I lean back against the island, letting him take in the sight of me in a pair of sheer, teal panties and a matching demi-cup bra that makes my breasts look two sizes larger than they are.

  “Lose your shirt,” I order.

  He cocks a brow but does as I asked, slowly unbuttoning the shirt and shrugging out of it as I watch his every move. He’s left in an undershirt, and I gesture for him to remove that as well. He hooks the front of his neckline and bends forward, pulling it off and giving me a glimpse of his rippling back muscles in the process, causing my mouth to water.

  His jeans hang low on his hips, and I lick my lips, wanting to drag my tongue along that delicious V that’s pointing an arrow south—as if I need the direction. My eyes trail up his torso, enjoying the view of his toned abs. The scars from the accident are still pink, littered across him—a reminder of how we came together. Before now, I never thought of scars as a turn-on, but those pink, raised scars beckon to me. I have to stop myself from crossing the kitchen and kissing each one, showing him my eternal gratitude.

  When I meet his eyes, all amusement has faded from them. His gaze is full of lust, and I know mine mirrors his.

  Lifting my chin, I gesture to his jeans. “Take them off. Slowly.”

  His eyes don’t leave mine as he unbuttons them, sliding the zipper down at the same time. My breath catches as he hooks his thumbs at the waistline and pushes them down, taking his boxers with him. His already hard cock springs free, pointing straight at me. He steps out of his jeans, using his foot to move them aside.

  I take a moment to shamelessly stare at his naked form, a sight I’ve seen many, many times but still haven’t gotten used to. My eyes rake over him, stopping on his erection. I know I ne
ed a taste. He lets out a deep breath, raking a hand through his hair, as I move to meet him in the middle of the kitchen. My hands come to his chest, pushing him back lightly until his ass hits the counter behind him.

  As much as I want him in my mouth, I take my time kissing his torso, paying equal attention to each nipple, licking and nibbling on each one until they harden in my mouth. Satisfied, I rain kisses down his chest and stomach, placing soft ones over each scar. He stands there stoically, not reacting to me—at least not vocally. I can feel the tiny shivers and tremors as I kiss each spot, but he doesn’t say a word.

  After my lips have silently thanked each scar, I slowly fall to my knees until I’m eye level with his cock. Without warning, I lean forward and take him into my mouth. And by him, I mean all of him. I don’t start slow and sweet; I’m too hungry for him. I don’t stop until he’s hitting the back of my throat. He’s big, and I have the urge to gag, but I open up my throat for him, feeling empowered when a low groan escapes from his lips.

  I pull back, hollowing my cheeks as I suck on the shaft, licking the underside until just the tip is in my mouth. My tongue flicks out, spiraling around the soft skin on the head, licking his opening. My hand comes to the base of him, and I take him back in my mouth, working in harmonious rhythm, intending to bring him to just to the brink without letting him slip over the edge.

  As I deep-throat him, his hand comes up to the back of my head, where he presses against me with a slight amount of pressure. I pull back, take my free hand, and remove his from my hair. As I look up at him with my mouth still surrounding his dick, I see that he’s watching me with dark eyes. Shaking my head, I push his hand back to the counter, where I see him grip it intensely, the knuckles on each one turning white as he tries to control himself.

  As soon as I feel his thighs tense, I release my hand from his shaft and deep-throat him one last time, unable to contain my grin as he groans. I look up to see his head tilted back, his eyes closed, his hands still tightly gripping the counter. Then I slowly pull away until his cock slides out of my mouth with a pop.

  He’s breathing hard as his eyes open and he looks down on me. As I rise, he moves to grab my waist, but I’m too quick for him.

  “Jesus Christ, baby. You’ve blown me before, but fuck. You’ve never taken me all the way in like that. Warn a guy next time. I just about shot my load down the back of your throat in the first five seconds.”

  With a triumphant grin, I cock my head towards the bedroom. “I’m not done with you yet,” I say in a low, seductive tone as I bring my hands around my back to unclasp my bra. Just as the material falls to the floor, I turn my back to him and shimmy out of my panties. As I start to walk out of the kitchen, I look back to see him still gripping the counter. “You coming?” I ask and then walk down the hall, not waiting for his answer.

  Just as I enter the bedroom, I hear his feet padding across the hardwood floor and my insides quiver with anticipation. I’m standing at his dresser when he comes up behind me, placing his hands around my waist, sliding one down until he’s cupping me in between my legs. Pulling out a tie, I glance up into the mirror in front of us, allowing myself a split second to enjoy his touch before pushing back against him. His eyes catch mine in the mirror, and I shake my head. A scowl crosses his face, and if it were any other day, I’d let him take me right here, right now, so I could watch as he fucks me from behind.

  But not tonight. Tonight, he’s mine.

  Turning in his arms, I hold up a necktie in my hands. “Do I need to tie you up, or will you cooperate, Branson?” I ask, watching as his eyes darken.

  “Not a fucking chance,” he growls.

  I cock a brow. “Fine. We’ll work our way up to that. Get on the bed,” I order.

  A look of annoyance crosses his face, and I try not to grin. Branson Wellington really doesn’t like relinquishing control, and something warms inside me from knowing that he’s trying just for me.

  I watch in the mirror as he sits on the edge of the bed, slowly pulling his legs up, wincing slightly when his knee bends. I grimace, having forgotten about his bum knee. But then he settles against the pillow and I allow myself to face him. The light from the bedside lamp illuminates him as I study his naked body. He’s still as impossibly hard as he was in the kitchen, and I lick my lips, still tasting him on my tongue.

  "Baby, I just had my hand between your legs. I know how wet and ready you are. Get your ass over here and ride me or I'm taking you against that dresser," he warns.

  Dropping the tie, I move forward, ready to finish what I started. Ready to conquer him.

  His eyes don't leave mine as I climb onto the bed, positioning myself over his body with my knees on each side of his hips. I lean up, giving him a quick kiss, and allowing my pussy to slide over the length of his erection, rubbing ever so slightly. His hands come down to my hips, where he presses his fingers into my skin. Pulling back, I sit up and place my hands over the tops of his, forcefully removing them from me.

  "Hands on the sheets, baby," I order. "Or I get the tie."

  A pissed-off expression fills his eyes, and I hold my stare, not backing down. With a sigh, he places his hands on the sheet beneath him, and I feel triumphant.

  “From the very first night, you’ve owned me completely. Tonight, just this once, I want to be the one who owns you,” I murmur, watching as his jaw tighten before he swallows hard and gives me a firm nod even though I know it’s killing him to do so.

  Reaching across to the nightstand, I pull out a condom from the box we bought to use until my birth control kicks in.

  He groans. "Ari, baby."

  But I place a finger over his lips as I slide the condom over his erection. I feel his pain, not wanting anything between us, and I vow never to miss another birth control pill for as long as we're together.

  Sitting up, I straddle him and align his cock at my wet entrance. Placing my hands on his chest, I slowly sink down on him, inch by every glorious inch. Once I'm filled fully, I nearly groan as my clit makes direct contact with his pelvis. I'm still savoring the feel of him inside me, not wanting to move and already knowing I'm not going to last in this position.

  As I start moving up and down, I feel a huge rush of excitement wash over me. I rock my hips back and forth to feel both the pleasure of him inside me and my clit rubbing against his pelvis. Branson doesn't move, aware that I want this to be all me. I rise up and sink down on him, my pace increasing with each pass until I'm practically bouncing up and down on him, feeling empowered that I'm finally free to ride him as hard as I please.

  Looking down, I see an almost pained expression on his face, his hands fisting in the sheets. I lean forward and brace my hands on his impeccable chest.

  "Move with me, Branson," I tell him, ready for him to join in. I lift up, and when I plunge down this time, Branson thrusts up into me hard and deep, causing me to cry out. "Your cock feels amazing so deep inside me," I breathe out, and he starts thrusting up into me even harder, bringing me close to the edge.

  Taking my hands off his chest, I sit up straight and bring them up to my breasts, caressing each as he pushes up into me. I feel empowered and sexy, and I ride him hard, bouncing up and down in his cock as he pumps up into me. My hips move in an undulating rhythm that matches his thrusts, sending pleasurable sensations throughout every nerve ending in my body.

  "Oh yes, baby. Touch yourself," he groans then brings his hand up to my clit. As good as it feels, I want to maintain some sort of control, so I take his hand and push it aside, using my own to rub my clit. "Fuck yeah. That is so sexy," he growls, thrusting up into me harder, faster, deeper than before.

  "Branson, oh fuck, oh fuck... It feels so good... I'm gonna come," I chant with each passing thrust.

  As he slams up into me, I feel my walls tighten around him, and with one more stroke on my clit, waves of sensation ripple through me. My orgasm explodes as my whole body shudders from the intensity of my release. I continue rocking up and down on hi
s cock as Branson starts bucking his hips. He thrusts into me until I feel him swelling inside me, a low growl escaping his throat as I feel him release into the condom. His hands curl into the sheets even harder than before and his head rolls back with his eyes squeezed shut.

  Coming down from my high, I slow my movements until I’m completely still, my hands bracing against his abs, his cock still deep inside me. Looking down at Branson, I find his eyes closed, his face flushed, his body slick with sweat—and he’s never looked sexier. Sure, I may not have exercised full control like he usually does over me, but it was still an extremely erotic feeling, riding him and not allowing him to touch me. I’ve never experienced a high like that before.

  His hands are still gripping the sheets when I lean back and hold on to his thighs for leverage. Slowly, he opens one eye then the other, but I can’t read his expression.

  “I didn’t think I’d like not being able to touch you. And Christ, it was pretty damn annoying when you took my hands off your body.”

  I blow out a deep breath, ready to retort when he continues.

  “That being said, it was really fucking sexy watching you touch yourself.”

  A slow grin spreads over my face, warm satisfaction pooling between my legs at the knowledge that he didn’t flat-out hate it.

  “Oh yeah? Does that mean you’ll let me take over again?”

  His eyes darken, and with one swift move, I’m flat on my back with Branson hovering over me, his cock still buried deep inside me. He places both hands on either side of my head, holding himself up.

  “Yeah, baby. On occasion, I’ll let you ride my cock. Watching your breasts bounce up and down had me ready to come in an instant. I can’t promise on the whole not touching thing, though. Next time, I want to be able to grip your hips and help you plunge down on me as I thrust into you, seeing just how deep I can go.”

  A small ‘O’ forms on my lips. I love the sound of that. “In that case, permission to touch next time has been granted,” I tell him, causing his head to tilt back in laughter.