It built in the very center of her core, a tight tingle of heat and pressure.
She closed her eyes and gave herself to it, a willing prisoner of her body and his mastery of its senses, its wants.
He feasted on her breast and drove deeper into her, his hands exploring her thighs, her hips, her breasts.
"Ruckus … " she whimpered when he moved a hand to where their bodies joined to finger her clit. "Ruckus, I'm going to … I'm going to come."
He lifted his head from her breast and nipped at her lips with his own. "I want you to, gorgeous. I want you to fucking explode all around me."
She did. She didn't even try to control it. He had a way of scraping away all the pretentions and barriers she had, and showing her the truth of who she was, what she wanted.
Bucking into his thrusts, her toes curling, her eyes scrunched shut, she came over and over.
And as she did, as her inner muscles squeezed his cock, she felt his body stiffen, felt his fingers on her body grow wild, and then he was groaning her name, his thrusts erratic, his seed pumping into her.
And it was the single most incredible thing ever.
Who knows how long later, both spent and shallow of breath, he slowly withdrew from her sex.
She didn't hold back her soft moan of dismay at the loss of their connection, letting it caress them both before she gave him a lazy smile. "Not too bad."
He chuckled, leaning back into the shower to snag the washcloth hanging from the tap. "Thank you, kind ma'am."
She watched his face as he cleaned her pussy with gentle swipes, her heart tripping a little as he then cleaned his softening length. "Free tonight?"
He froze for a split second, a barely visible stiffening of his body, and then shook his head as he tossed the washcloth into the sink behind her. "No."
A heavy tension wrapped RG's chest. "Date?"
He regarded her with an expression unseen by her on his face before: uncertainty. "Not sure."
Bending at the waist, she scooped up her jeans, flapped them out and then slipped them on. "K. See you later then?"
He nodded, expression unchanging. "Sure."
The tension didn't leave her chest even when she dressed-torn jeans and all-and exited his home.
She had two hours to get ready for tonight. Two hours until the game she'd put into play a few days ago, when she'd realized whom the West Wind was outside of Hell's Harbour, truly began.
God, she hoped she really did know what she was doing.
Chapter 3
Bran arrived at the restaurant before RG. That surprised him. All the information he had on her made it clear she never ran late. Ever. Of course, he was early. Fifteen minutes early. He wanted to make sure he had time to select the most appropriate bottle of wine for dinner. He also wanted to be sure the nerves gnawing into his gut had time to settle.
Settle. Huh. That was a joke.
There was no chance his nerves would go away anytime soon. Not at all. Just when he thought he was coolly in control of them, the person RG requested he bring to dinner would move or speak to him, and the knotting tension in his stomach would twist over itself again.
He could handle the nerves, could roll with them, if only every time he looked at Rick-sitting beside him right now-his balls and cock didn't throb.
How the hell was he going to conduct a business meeting with the man he ached for more than any other so close?
"You look nervous."
He started at Rick's low chuckle, his pulse kicking up a notch.
Rick laughed again, reaching for the glass of water on the table in front of him. "Damn, Brannum. You're a mess. Tell me again why you called me? Why we're here?"
Drawing in a slow breath, Bran ran a slower gaze over Rick's face. The eyes were the same piercing blue, still filled with an intensity Bran had become addicted to almost immediately.
"When did you shave your head again?" Ignoring Rick's question, he reached for his own water.
Rick cocked an eyebrow, took a sip from his glass, smacked his lips together loudly and then let out a comical "ahhh."
Other diners around them cast him glances. What kind of person came to Wockpool and acted in such a showy way, their faces said. It was bad enough said person was covered in tattoos, and now he was drawing more attention to himself? Bran wanted to tell them to stick their preconceived notions up their arses.
Rick grinned, all too aware of what was going on, not only around him but-Bran suspected-in Bran's head as well. Adjusting the cuff of his cherry-red suit jacket, he settled farther back in his seat. "Couple of days ago."
Bran tried not to let his stare drop to where Rick's black silk shirt gaped open at the base of his throat, revealing a wickedly teasing expanse of brown chest. He also tried not to remember how good that chest felt beneath his tongue, but failed on both accounts.
Christ, it had been too long without the man in his life. Four short months, but still too long, and now here he was, about to pretend he had no effect on him at the most important business dinner of his life. Was he crazy?
"Played any good games lately?"
Bran jerked his gaze up to Rick's face.
"Apart from whatever this," he indicated them both with a wave of his hand, the ice chinking together in his glass as he did so, "game is we're playing?"
Bran shook his head.
Rick shifted in his seat, stretching his long legs beneath the table. His knee brushed Bran's, the contact making Bran hiss in a sharp breath.
Their stares locked.
Bran swallowed. "I've missed you, Rick."
Something flickered over Rick's face at the confession, an emotion Bran couldn't decipher.
Jesus, why had he said that? He never planned to. What the hell was going on with him? He needed to get a grip before RG arrived or-
"Brannum."
The familiar husky female voice uttering his name detonated a wild pulse in Bran's throat. And in his groin.
Fuck.
Swinging his stare from Rick's face, he smiled up at RG.
Just as RG turned to Rick and said, "And Ruckus. You look good. Like the suit."
Bran frowned, returning his attention to Rick.
Rick, for his part, was regarding RG with an enigmatic grin. "I should have known."
RG cocked an eyebrow, lips curling. "Yes. You should have."
Bran's gut knotted tighter. He looked at Rick, then RG, then back to Rick again. "Ruckus?"
Rick drew in a deep breath, and then took another sip of water.
Standing beside the table, RG slipped her arms free of her jacket-a leather bomber jacket of the most brilliant yellow-and placed it on the back of her chair.
Bran hissed in another breath, his head roaring, his body thrumming like a live wire.
She looked incredible. As hot as Rick.
A black satin boned corset turned her breasts to glorious mounds of creamy flesh and emphasized just how narrow her waist was, how curved her hips. Around her neck wrapped a black leather choker with a polished steel ring in the center. Her hair cascaded over her right shoulder. In her left ear hung what looked like a diamond-encrusted sword with two rubies as drops of blood on its tip. Around her left upper arm was a gold slave band, its position highlighting the subtle strength of her shoulder.
Completing the outfit was a miniskirt made from what looked like a union Jack flag, lace-topped fishnet stockings that revealed a slash of creamy leg beneath the skirt's hem, and stilettoes a dominatrix would be proud to own.
She was every female fantasy Bran had ever had. And about to sit next to the man he craved on every level imaginable.
Shit, he was in trouble.
Sucking in another breath, his cock throbbing, his balls doing the same, he fixed his stare on Rick.
"Care to explain, Rick? Or do I call you Ruckus?"
Movement in his peripheral vision told him RG had lowered herself into her seat.
Lowering his glass of water to the table, Rick met his gaze. "Ruckus. I was born Rick-well, Richard. I became Ruckus a long time ago."
Bran blinked.
Rick-no, make that Ruckus-offered him a wry smile. "If it helps at all, you're the only person I've ever let call me that. And it's because I loved the way it sounded tearing from the back of your throat when I made you come."
RG made a sound, a raw, carnal sound that flayed Bran's senses. He ground his teeth, fighting with an unexpected dark hunger.
How long had it been since he'd allowed that side of him free? The side of him that was ruled by base lust and the need to submit.
Not since Rick-Ruckus-had been in his bedroom. He'd lived that life with him. Had been the sub to the man's Dom. When Rick ended their relationship, Bran had suppressed that need and locked it away.
And now Rick was before him again, and Bran wanted nothing more than to capitulate to his lust and Rick's mastery, even as he wanted to see RG undone by pleasure. RG, who had played him to perfection …
Was RG the reason Rick had left him?
Or was RG the reason he was now back in his life?
He studied his ex-lover's eyes, searching for the answers.
"And if the name Ruckus tears from the back of my throat while you make me come?" He leant towards him, so close he could feel his breath fan his lips.
Hunger flared in Ruckus's eyes.
Bran's groin tightened. He turned his head, fixing RG in an unwavering stare. She met it, her own gaze as steady as his. "Is this what you'd expected?"
She surprised him by chuckling. "This is so much hotter."