Clay curled his hands into fists at his sides. He didn’t trust himself to move as Samantha gradually increased the pressure of her mouth against his, her gratitude shifting into something more sensual and intimate. The kiss was warm, soft, and undeniably persistent, and a needy sigh escaped her as her tongue flicked experimentally against his upper lip. Teasing him. Tormenting him. And testing his restraint in a way that was foolish and dangerous for a man like him.
A man who didn’t do soft or slow or sweet when it came to women.
Seemingly oblivious to the sudden tension thrumming through him, she slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, bringing her body flush to his. The heat of her firm breasts and tight nipples penetrated through her shirt and his, making him ache for her. The need inside him expanded, gnawing at his self-control. She had no fucking clue how close he was to feeding the hunger that had been twisting in his gut since last night.
He placed his hands on her waist, intending to push her away and end this madness so he could set some boundaries, until the vixen nipped at his lower lip and playfully tugged it between her teeth. Oh, fuck me…
The last bit of his self-discipline snapped, unleashing the beast inside of him. Selfish bastard that he was¸ Clay wasn’t going to refuse sampling the pleasure she was offering. Last night, her flirtatious advances had been under the influence of alcohol. This morning, she was stone-cold sober and knew exactly what she was doing. And since this was his one and only chance to taste her, he wasn’t about to hold back. She was about to experience Clay’s more dominant, aggressive side, and he was certain that would be enough to shock some sense into her and show Samantha that her kind of sophistication was no match for his rough, coarse, sexual appetite.
Lifting his hands, he buried them in her hair until his fingers twisted tight around the strands to hold her to his will, and pulled her head back. She let out a startled gasp as her gaze met his, not with the wariness or panic he’d been anticipating but with a flash of excitement that made his blood sizzle in his veins. She was such a fucking contradiction, so naive and trusting in some respects, yet so daring and fearless when it came to dealing with him. The combination was lust inducing.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he crushed his mouth to hers. The kiss was hot, hard, and demanding from the moment his lips touched hers, and his tongue swept deep inside to plunder and devour. She moaned and wrapped her hands around his biceps, as if she needed something to hold on to as he continued to keep her mouth positioned beneath his and feasted on her rich, decadent flavor.
She tasted like the cupcake he’d called her. So delicious he wanted to eat her up. So sweet he couldn’t get enough, no matter how much he immersed himself in the kiss. He burned for her. She trembled for him. His cock pulsed with excruciating need beneath the fly of his jeans, and lust, thick and heavy, fogged his brain.
With his mouth fused to hers, he guided her backward, until her ass hit the edge of the table they’d just been sitting at. His hands dropped to her hips, and with a slight lift, she was sitting on the flat surface. Breathing hard against her parted lips, he pushed her legs wide apart and moved in between, so that the rigid length of his erection aligned with the front panel of her panties. Even through the denim, he could feel her heat and dampness, and it drove him wild.
He thrust his tongue deep inside her mouth, matching the grind of his cock against her sex. She whimpered and shamelessly tightened her thighs around his waist. Her soft hands found their way beneath his T-shirt and skimmed over his abs and continued up to his chest, until her fingers reached his nipples and plucked at the tight, sensitive tips.
He groaned and shuddered. His dick throbbed almost painfully, and he barely managed to clench his jaw against the onslaught of relentless heat surging through him.
What the hell was he doing? If she’d been any other woman, he would have been balls deep inside her by now, driving them both toward a mind-bending orgasm. But he intuitively knew that Samantha Jamieson wasn’t someone he could fuck mindlessly and casually walk away from afterward. She was well-bred, refined, and probably didn’t venture beyond traditional missionary sex. He was rough around the edges and liked his encounters hot and sweaty and down and dirty.
He jerked back so that there were a few inches of space between them and more than enough room to put an end to their very near miss. She looked up at him, her lips wet and swollen from his kiss, her face flushed with desire, and her gaze exhilarated and oh-so-hopeful for much, much more.
It wasn’t going to happen. “You’re playing with the hottest kind of fire there is, Cupcake,” he said, his voice tinged with an unmistakable warning.
Her chin lifted ever so slightly, and the corner of her mouth curved upward in a brazen smile. “You didn’t seem to mind a few moments ago.”
Jesus fucking Christ. He wanted to do dirty things to that sassy mouth of hers, wanted to show her how he handled impudent women in the bedroom. Resisting the urge took effort—because just imagining the feel of her bare ass quivering beneath the smack of his hand made him harder than stone—but he managed to keep his head focused on drawing those all-too-important lines between them. He needed to set her straight, establish clear boundaries between them, and the only way he knew to do that was to be blunt and crude enough to shock some sense back into her upper-class sensibilities.
Bracing his hands on the table on either side of her hips, he leaned in close and gave her his best intimidating scowl. “I’m not a gentleman, Samantha,” he said harshly. “I don’t do soft and gentle and sweet. I like to control and fuck so hard and deep you’ll scream and be sore the next day. I’d want you on your knees, with my hands fisted in your hair while you suck my cock, and then I’d bend you over this table, spread your legs wide, and fuck you all over again.”
That definitely got her attention, but not in the way he’d hoped. Her eyes widened, and her breathing deepened, and she licked her lips in a way that told him she was playing every one of those wicked scenarios through her mind.
“What…what if that’s what I want?” she asked softly.
The muscles in his stomach tightened, and he exhaled a slow, deep breath as he straightened once again. “It’s not going to happen.” He had to be smart enough for them both. “If you’re going to be staying here, we need to set some rules.”
She frowned at him, jerking back in a way that told him he’d hit a nerve. “I’m twenty-six years old, and I’ve spent my entire life being told what to do. I’m done with rules, Clay. I’m done being a straight-laced good girl when the woman inside of me wants excitement and passion and a man who can show me both.”
“I’m not that man, Samantha,” he said gruffly. “You’re just being wild and rebellious now that you have a little freedom, and you like the way it feels. There’s no way I’m going let you do something you’d regret later.”
She pursed her lips but didn’t argue further, and that, more than anything, made him nervous. Whoever she’d been before, this incarnation of Samantha Jamieson clearly had no problem going after what she wanted.
And she’d made it clear she wanted him.
* * *
Samantha liked Katrina immediately. She was friendly, kind, and arrived at Clay’s place with a tank dress and a pair of flip-flops for Samantha to wear since her blouse and pants were still dirty. Katrina was shorter and more petite in size, but the dress was cut in a way that hung loose on Samantha’s body and would work until she could get something else that fit properly.
“Ready to go?” Katrina asked once Samantha walked out of Clay’s bedroom, now wearing the more comfortable outfit.
“Yes. Thank you again for the loan on the dress and shoes,” Samantha said, feeling momentarily self-conscious because she’d had to borrow someone else’s clothes. That was another first for her. “I really appreciate it.”
“It’s not a problem,” the other woman said with a wave of her hand, though her pretty green eyes brimmed with undeniable interest. “Though I have to say, I’ve never known Clay to let a woman spend the night here, let alone have one move in so quickly.”
Samantha felt a warm blush sweep across her cheeks, even though the smile Katrina gave her was light and teasing. She had no idea what, exactly, Clay had told the other woman about their arrangement or how she’d ended up in his apartment in the first place. As soon as he’d informed Samantha that he wasn’t about to let her do something she’d regret after that hot, scorching kiss they’d shared, he’d pushed her away, muttered something about calling Katrina from his office downstairs at the bar, then he’d stalked out of the small apartment.
He’d left her sitting on the table, all alone with too many thoughts running through her head. Mainly, about how she’d never, ever experienced such raw passion before. And the things he’d said to her afterward, about not being soft and gentle and sweet, well, even now her stomach clenched tight thinking about all those wicked things Clay had said he wanted to do to her. He’d meant to scare her off, but instead, he’d ignited a desire inside of her that she wanted him to satisfy. No other man would do after the hot, lustful wa
y he’d claimed her mouth and made her body burn with need.
“My staying here is temporary,” Samantha replied to Katrina’s comment as she picked up her purse from the couch. “Until I can make some money and figure out a few things.” Which she hoped would only take a few weeks, tops.
Katrina’s gaze traveled from the designer bag in Samantha’s hand up to her face. There was no judgment in her eyes, just curiosity, so Samantha was hopeful that the other woman thought the handbag was a knock-off. She didn’t want her old life interfering with her new one, which meant the Louis Vuitton had to go, because the last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself.
Samantha followed the other woman out a different side door and down a flight of wooden stairs to a small parking area. From what she could remember of last night, the other door in the apartment led directly to the bar downstairs, so Clay lived conveniently above the bar.
Katrina pressed the remote in her hand, and an alarm disengaged on a cute Volkswagen Beetle in a bright iridescent purple as funky as its owner, and which matched the plum-hued highlights tinting the edges of Katrina’s blonde, wavy hair, as well as the shimmering polish on her nails.
Katrina was pretty, but there was a tough edge about her, from the way she walked to her overall appearance—a don’t mess with me vibe that Samantha both admired and respected. The other woman wore tight black jeans, leather lace-up boots with a spiked heel, and a black tank top that showcased the colorful sleeve of tattoos covering her left arm and traveling up the side of her neck. The ink looked like dozens of exotic butterflies taking flight along her skin. It was a beautiful piece of art and unlike anything Samantha had ever seen on a woman before.
Then again, the ladies and friends in her social circle didn’t mar their perfect skin with permanent ink. Her own mother, upon seeing a girl with a few tattoos at the grocery store, had whispered to Samantha that only heathens and trashy people got tattoos, that they were disgusting and degrading. Samantha had always felt differently, had even secretly wanted a tattoo of her own, but hadn’t dared to follow through on the urge because she knew the consequences from her parents would have been severe.
That was the old Samantha, the classic good girl who always worried about disappointing her mother and father. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth when she thought about all the rules she’d already broken in less than a day, and just how good it felt to be bad for a change. Especially when it came to Clay.
Once they were both settled into the small and surprisingly comfy car, Katrina glanced at Samantha as she turned the key in the ignition. “Clay said you’ll be working as a bar waitress at Kincaid’s, so you’ll need some jeans and comfortable shoes, right?”
Samantha nodded, trying to read Katrina’s tone, but the woman was really good at keeping her true thoughts concealed. So, she tried to explain. “I know this whole situation, with me staying with Clay and working at the bar, must look odd to you—”
“Oh, it’s not odd at all,” Katrina interrupted before she could finish, a small smile on her lips as she shrugged. “It’s what Saint Clay does. He takes care of people.”
Samantha frowned. Saint Clay? She tried to make sense of the nickname and wondered how it related to the gruff man she’d met, but before she could question Katrina, the other woman spoke.
“We’d better get moving.” She put the car in reverse to back it out of the parking spot. “I have two hours before Mason expects me back at the shop, though honestly, he can kiss my ass for making that demand, considering I am the manager of the place and not his personal slave.”
Samantha couldn’t stop the grin that appeared as the other woman pulled into traffic. Oh, yeah, she liked Katrina. A lot. The girl obviously had no qualms about saying it like it was or refusing to take crap from anyone.
“Mason is Clay’s brother, right?” Samantha asked.
“He’s one of Clay’s brothers, yes,” Katrina said as she slipped a pair of sunglasses on her face. “There’s also Levi, who’s the youngest of the three.”
Being an only child, Samantha had always wanted a sibling, but right after she’d been born, there had been complications that had forced her mother to have an emergency hysterectomy—which was something Samantha’s father hadn’t been happy about, since he’d gotten a daughter instead of the son he wanted.
“I take it they’re all close?”
“You wouldn’t think so when you see them interact, but to be fair, Mason can be an asshole, and he likes to push both of his brothers’ buttons.” Humor infused Katrina’s voice before her expression turned more serious. “But yeah, they’re close. The three of them have been through a lot of shit together, and there’s nothing they wouldn’t do for each other. That said, they couldn’t be more different in looks or personality.”
Samantha was intrigued. “In what way?”
“Well, they might not look like brothers, but they are all fine, hot-looking, gorgeous pieces of man candy.” Katrina grinned, clearly appreciating that particular quality about the Kincaid brothers. “Personality-wise, Clay is the responsible, uptight one. Mason is and always has been the cocky hell-raiser, and Levi is the good, respectable cop who wouldn’t dare color outside the lines, if you know what I mean. He’s so straight-laced he squeaks.”
Samantha laughed, though she had a feeling that she’d relate well to Levi considering his character, even if she was highly attracted to Clay. Mason, she wasn’t so sure about. He sounded like a bad boy who enjoyed corrupting good girls, like the kind of guy her mother had warned her to stay away from as a teenager. And she’d dutifully kept her distance from those kinds of boys, even if they had fascinated her from afar.
After this morning with Clay, Samantha understood the appeal of being corrupted by a man who was bad and tough and pure alpha male. Clay’s more dominant tendencies had excited her in ways she’d never known were possible, probably because the men she’d dated up to this point had been too polite, proper, and uninspiring in the bedroom.
And in Harrison’s case, he liked everything clean and orderly, including any physical contact—whether that was shaking someone’s hand or what the two of them did in the bedroom. His OCD affliction, combined with being a severe germaphobe, had made sex a quick and to-the-point process. There hadn’t been any leisurely foreplay with mouths and fingers sliding in hot, wet places. No deep, steamy, tongue-tangling kisses that made her melt. And as soon as it was over, he’d moved off the bed to take a shower. Without her.
She’d already had plenty of gentlemen, along with soft and gentle and sweet, and that was the last thing she desired from an assertive man like Clay. She wanted to be claimed and possessed in the exact way he’d described this morning. She wanted to experience what it was like to be at the sensual mercy of Clay’s hands and mouth. She wanted to feel what it was like to be pinned beneath his strong, hard body as he fucked her, giving her no choice but to accept whatever pleasure he gave her.
Samantha swallowed back a soft moan at the fantasy playing in her mind. With extreme effort, she forced herself to focus on what Katrina was saying as she continued to talk about the Kincaid brothers in an animated voice that indicated she knew all of them pretty well and was fond of each one.
“I take it you’ve known them a long time?” Samantha asked when Katrina stopped talking.
“I met Mason when I was fourteen and we…” She paused for a moment, as if catching herself before she said something she hadn’t meant to share before continuing more tentatively. “We went to the same high school. We bonded over something we had in common, and we’ve been best friends since.”
Samantha instinctively knew there was more to that story, but didn’t want to pry. “And now you work with him?”
“Actually, I work for Mason,” Katrina clarified as she turned the car into a large shopping center with an array of stores, with Target as the anchor. “He owns a tattoo shop a few streets over from Clay’s bar that’s called Inked. Mostly I manage the place and
do his accounting and keep his shit together, but I also occasionally draw art for clients, though I don’t do the actual tattooing.”
Samantha’s gaze once again took in the stunning images displayed on her skin that looked so lifelike. “Did Mason do all those butterflies on your arm and neck?”
“No. Someone else did,” Katrina replied as she turned the Beetle into a parking spot.
Considering Katrina had just said that Mason was her best friend, along with the fact that she worked in his shop, Samantha was surprised another artist had tattooed her instead. “Well, they’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.” The other woman took off her sunglasses, giving Samantha a brief glimpse of something more emotional in regard to those butterflies, before it was chased away by a light and fun smile. “Come on. Let’s go get the things you need and spend some of Clay’s money.”
Katrina made it sound as though he had a ton of cash to burn, which couldn’t be the case considering where his bar was located and the tiny apartment he lived in. Regardless, Samantha hated the thought of having to spend any of Clay’s money. “I just need the basics to get me through to my first paycheck.” And then she’d be reimbursing him for everything she bought today.
As she got out of the car and followed Katrina toward the huge retail store, the other woman glanced her way with a devious grin. “Trust me, you’ll have money before your first paycheck. We’ll get you a pair of tight-fitting jeans to wear while you’re working, along with a snug Kincaid’s T-shirt, and I can guarantee that the men who come into the bar will be throwing tips your way.”
“Or not, since I have no idea what I’m doing,” she joked, but it was the truth. Samantha would like to think that taking orders and delivering drinks would be a fairly easy thing to do, but like any job, she was sure there would be some kind of learning curve involved, and she’d make a few mistakes along the way.
Samantha could only hope that Clay didn’t fire her on her first night.
