“Brickham!”
Her gasping scream would be engraved on his mind forever. Even so, Brick craved to hear it again. As in right the fuck now.
With one minor twist.
“Call me what you should, sweet one, and you can have all of your orgasm.”
The woman flared her big turquoises, officially registering herself as the eighth wonder of the world in his book.
“All of it?” she stammered. “You mean that was not— Oh!”
Brick kicked up a grin as he readjusted his angle, making sure more of his pelvis rubbed along hers. Her answering whimper soared through him like a damn angel’s song. No shit, considering her body was a heaven he never wanted to leave.
But their time together would soon be ending—a realization that sealed his dedication to two new aims.
One, to imprint as much of himself on her from the inside out. He was well on the way to honoring that with every purposeful lunge into the paradise of her sex. Two, he swore to memorize all the details of how he affected her. Every damn minutia. The incessant, erotic pulse in her neck. The way her arm muscles bunched every time his dick bottomed out in her tight, torrid heaven.
And speaking of that…
The woman’s pussy was getting a memory book of its own. A tome to withstand the ages, bound with chunks of his soul and filled with as many of these moments as he could fit onto its precious pages.
She was worth it. A female he’d never forget. A princess with courage that stunned him and boldness that inspired him. Who had nerves steelier than most dudes he knew but embraced her softness and submissiveness like a kitten with its first taste of cream. Who had no viable reason to trust him, but had—and still did—with so much of her honesty, intensity, passion, and surrender.
Christ. Especially that.
How she squeezed him. Soaked him. Milked him.
Moved him…
He could no longer deny the recognition. It was the fucking truth, and he’d have to accept it. Later, he’d unpack the whole mental mess it came with. The whys and hows and what the hell nows.
Right now, there were more urgent needs for his system to unload.
“Sir.”
So much more urgent.
“Please…Sir.”
She spoke it like a wish laced with worship. An appeal but a demand. Likely ruining him for anyone else who’d speak it again. Like he fucking cared about that right now.
“Pixie.” His own voice was filled with the building pressure through his body and mind. He wasn’t going to last much longer. His balls were wads of lava. His dick was a goddamned branding iron. And if the quiver of her clit was any indication…
“Oh! Yes! Please, Sir…”
And what an indication it was.
“Come for me, Pixie girl. All the way, my sweet Jayd.”
“Oh…yessss…”
She flung her head back. The action shoved her breasts up at him. In a frenzied rush, Brick shoved the satin away from the swell that was still covered. He followed with his mouth. Sucked in her red, puckered nub with suction dictated by passion.
“Oh, by the Creator, yes.”
She was so close, but not all the way there. Not…yet…
Damn it.
Frustration and anticipation collided, blasting away his courtly control. Instinct roared in its place. The impulse had him biting instead of sucking. Pulling hard at the beautiful berry between his teeth.
“Brickham!”
As soon as her scream jolted the air, her pussy flickered around his cock. Her body surrounded his in wave after wave of undulating ecstasy. He knew exactly how to respond—by again grabbing her nipple and digging in like it was the best fruit he’d ever tasted. Because it sure as hell was.
“Wh-What is happening? What is this?”
“Let it come, Pixie,” he grated into the valley of her chest. “Let me come with you.”
“Yes.” She would’ve sounded like a broken playback loop if not for the vocal sugar roughening her tone. “Yes…yes…yes…”
The gorgeous litany went on, a repetition between every drive of his aching autocrat of an erection, until her voice was hoarse and her thighs quaked. For one wonderful moment, Brick imagined stroking one of those thighs and fingering a mark upon it. His mark, branded permanently into her skin. No longer would she be his for just a night. She’d be his submissive princess forever.
Never to be.
But right here? In this incredible moment?
This was meant to be.
If all of Paris broke into flames then, he wouldn’t have noticed. If aliens were suddenly skipping through Montmartre, he wouldn’t care. There was nothing but her now. Nothing but her high cries in his ears and her succulent cunt around his sex. Absorbing every plunge from him. Taking every inch of him. Accepting every drop of him.
He couldn’t get enough of her.
He sure as hell couldn’t look away from her.
Not as she lolled her head back, scattering her dark bangs across her dewy forehead. Definitely not as the curves of her mouth fell open, making way for velveteen gasps that warmed his cheeks and lips.
She was spellbinding. A dream. Like a painting on a medieval fresco, meant to embody the wages of sin but secretly beckoning every male in the church to sign their soul over to Lucifer.
He’d be the first in line.
And why not? A long time ago, he’d resigned himself to the eventual direction he was headed for. She’d just make the journey worth it.
Already, she’d made living more worth it.
Perhaps more than that.
Holy mother of all hidden treasures. His Dominant mojo was back. No. It was back. He’d cuffed a perfect little subbie with a goddamned cookie cutter and then fucked her until she’d shattered, screaming his name. And he’d climaxed for her too. Given her so much, he wondered if his dick had any swimmers left.
That answer was yes.
Because he already wanted to do it again.
Even as he lifted her wrists to free her from his creative shackle. Even as he rubbed them, making sure he hadn’t broken her skin. And yeah, even as he softened inside her, knowing it’d be time to slip out soon. But so many veins in his shaft refused to give up. They already gave in to more fantasies as he slid Jayd off the counter, with her legs around his waist, and carried her into the bedroom.
Unbelievably—thankfully?—the actions also provided distraction. Once he’d laid Jayd down on the bed, he was flaccid enough to peel off the condom. A trip to the bathroom meant he could properly zip up and grab a towel for cleaning her too.
Once he stretched beside her and started doing just that, the visions weren’t so easy to avoid. The woman herself was no help, as she watched his every move with her endless aquas. Her whole body was still flushed and warm, giving off that elegant effervescence that was hers alone. It matched the smile that stretched across her face, turning the ribbon of her lips into a package he longed to bite open.
But not now.
It was time to chill shit out. To stop at his mental mountain stream and regroup his composure. Not a bad metaphor, considering a light summer rain began to fall outside. The traffic noises were quieter too. Montmartre never really slept, but there was a lull between the dinner crowd and the concert crowd, so the only sounds in the room were raindrops on the window and Jayd Cimarron’s contented hums.
Christ, how he liked being the master of those hums.
How he wished he was the master of so much more.
Her sighs and her cries, her whimpers and her screams…
What about “not happening in this lifetime” aren’t you getting here, dick for brains?
There was only now. These last few minutes with her. He was going to savor every second, even if that meant looking on while the woman fell asleep on him with startling speed.
Brick chuckled, accepting it as a compliment. Her exhaustion had been blatant from the moment she sat down in the bar, and nothing about the last few hours could exactly be called a break. Now, at least to her subconscious, she was warm and protected.
And to him, that was all that mattered.
He’d barely completed the full thought when a shrill scream knifed the air.
“What the—” he blurted, preparing to jolt from the mattress and assume a full battle stance—until identifying the source as the woman sleeping next to him. No, that wasn’t right either. Not the screaming part. Or the woman part. The fucking sleeping part.
Holy shit. He’d nodded off? Okay, what alternate universe had he tumbled into? Because in the one in which he’d woken up this morning, he was still him. A guy capable of showing a woman the stars without tossing her into the sky along with them. A kink club owner who’d accepted that the Dom dream just wasn’t meant for him. And definitely not a guy who fell asleep on watch duty without backup. Not when there was a prize this precious to guard.
The prize who, thank fuck, was still here.
A closer look revealed that Jayd was barely awake too. She blinked and pushed up, gazing toward the window. The rain was softer, but the crowds on the streets below were heavier. Brick glanced at his watch. Half past ten. Thank fuck. He hadn’t been comatose all night. On the other hand, he had no idea if Jagger, Oz, and Requiemme were still at the ER or half a block away.
A secondary concern from the second Jayd cried out again.
“Pixie. Hey. It’s only me. And you’re only dreaming. Sweetheart?”
Her eyes fluttered open. Not that it mattered. Her face was still clamped down with terror. Brick had seen all the signs before, from his own mirror, to label it differently.
He leaned in carefully, stroking her cheeks with his knuckles, until she blinked a bunch of times. A shaky sigh left her before she husked, “Br…Brickham?”
“I was the last time I checked.”
Another hit of relief, as she pushed out a groggy laugh. “It is really you.”
He lowered a kiss to her nose. “In the flesh.”
“Such nice flesh too.”
He didn’t fight his king-of-the-world smirk. It vanished as soon as she reached up and palmed the center of his chest. Brick gulped before scooping up her hand and gently bussing her knuckles. And now, yet again, he wanted to do so much more. Take this affection further…
He had to get her dressed again. Hell, he had to put his own shirt back on.
“You okay?”
“I…think so.”
“Hmm.” He frowned. “I don’t.”
“Huh?” she blurted.
“You’re parched.” He confirmed it by sliding a thumb across her bottom lip. “Stay right here.”
He rose and headed for the kitchen. When he returned with a glass of water and all her clothes, the princess was standing next to the window, which she’d just finished opening.
Brick growled. “You know what stay means, don’t you?”
She arched a pretty brow. “And you know what I’m hot means too?”
“That’s a given, Pixie. But right now, your delectable little self can be hot over here.”
“If I stay over here, do I get spankings?”
“No. You’ll get a long lesson in topping from the bottom.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“And then a lesson in orgasm denial.”
Well, that took care of her pants-free dawdling. Fortunately, the window ledge hit her high at the waist, and the pane itself could only be rolled out a few inches. Still, Brick handed over her panties and leggings first—along with a don’t-even-think-about-saying-no stare.
Without a word, the smart little sprite started putting her clothes back on.
For long minutes, Brick didn’t say anything either. He parked himself on the lounger in the corner and appreciated his last few views of her nudity. In the subdued light of the bedroom, her skin glowed like warm caramel. Her movements were efficient but exquisite, a ballerina’s by any other name. Until…
Christ.
“Hey. You’re still shaking.” Not as violently as before, but enough that he noticed.
“I am fine.”
“Bullshit.”
“Brickham.” No chance she’d be correcting herself to Sir this time. “It was just a bad dream.”
“Says the girl who just attempted to yell the roof down? This time for all the wrong reasons?”
A cute snicker from her lush lips. “And you are the one who would know the difference.”
He pulled up one knee. Rested an elbow atop it. From across that new trajectory, he was able to inject her with a harder stare. “I’ve had some experience with crappy dreams. Even more with the monsters who can cause them.”
And there was the line that sank a hook into her. Though he’d half expected it, the tense frown was no easier to witness—or address.
“Who’s your monster, Jayd?” He took care about the probe, wrapping it in a silken tone. Nevertheless, he betrayed his split nerves by rapidly running his thumb against his forefinger. “Anyone you’ve…met recently? Maybe someone who can be a bit domineering? And if so, maybe that certain person can help by talking things out with you?”
His fingers froze as soon as she erupted with a reaction. Her laugh was a brilliant burst on the air, full and free—and as riveting as her orgasm screams. He practically preened at being its inspiration, though he was confused as hell why.
“To be very clear, you were not the monster in my dream, Brickham.” She said it as if merely commenting on the rain instead of lifting the anvil that had been parked on his chest. “If anything…”
“What?” he prodded, as the anvil lowered close again.
A blush tinged her cheeks. He couldn’t say the same about the blood rushing his cock because of it. “If anything, Brickham…you were the one in my dream who was saving me.”
Now it was time to shatter the damn anvil.
Except for when his better sense crashed down in its place.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Pixie, I’m not the guy who likes coming to your bower and waking you up with a tender kiss.”
“And in case you have not noticed, Sir, it takes more than that to wake me up.”
Well, that sure as hell wasn’t helpful for the chaos beneath his fly. Still, something else sliced through his senses. A feeling so rare, he barely recognized it at first. “More? Like what?” Hope was such an odd commodity, he needed more validation for it. Her validation.
“Like…spankings with spatulas, maybe.”
She averted her eyes, but no way could she shield her darker flush. No way did Brick want her to.
“Go on,” he directed, now wishing the lounger was a dungeon throne. Hell, even a regular throne. Fuck it. He’d settle for a regular kitchen chair.
“Maybe…heart-shaped handcuffs would work too.” Her tone wasn’t so awkward. From any other woman, at any other time, he’d be celebrating that perception. But as she turned and took a step closer, still clothed only in her leggings and bra, he hit the opposite end of the spectrum. She was coming closer on a clear track of thought. He had to derail her from it. Quickly.
“And then spreading your legs for a near stranger?”
So shoveling more fuel into the engine was helping his cause…how?
“Not a stranger.” And neither, damn it, was her tentative touch across his knuckles. Her fingertips were like butterflies on his skin—and hornets along his dick. He was so swollen. So ready to be inside her again. “You were the good guy in the dream, remember?”
“Right,” he scoffed. “The good guy who likes cuffing you, stripping you, and then fucking you.”
Her touch became a full clasp. She curled her fingernails in, gouging his palm on purpose. “The good guy who made at least a hundred of my fantasies come true,” she whispered. “The very good guy who taught me there is nothing wrong about them, either.”
At once, a frown took over his face. “Who made you ever think you were wrong?”
“Well…everyone.” She said it as if he’d just noticed it was pouring outside. “The world at large.” With a fresh huff, she lowered to the foot of the lounger. “I am right…right? Nobody normal is supposed to want their sex like that.”
Brick lowered his knee but kept clutching her hand. “Like what?”
Yet another heavy sigh. “You know what I mean, Brickham.”
“Pretend I don’t.” He pushed at her backside with his calf. Damn, it was nice to have her so close. Only thing better than her between his legs would be him between hers. “It wasn’t a request, sweetheart.”
She pursed her lips, clearly debating what to say, if anything at all. “All right, fine,” she muttered. “There are things we are all taught, especially as women, to want from our lovers. And I admit, all of those things are nice…”
“But?”
“But I have always just craved…other things…too.”
She rushed that part out like a third grader finishing a book report. But a smile teased the corners of her lush mouth, encouraging Brick’s rejoinder.
“Other things. You mean, like what I did to you.”
“You mean for me?”
Fuck, he enjoyed how her beautiful mind worked. “And what you did for me, as well. It was a two-way circuit, Jayd.”
Her smile widened. “Oh yes, it was.”
“But you’ve still been taught to think of it as wrong.”
“Were you not taught the same?”
“Sweetheart, most of my education about my dick and where it belongs came courtesy of some softhearted hookers on slow nights in South Park.”
Her brows knitted. “Where?”
“It’s a suburb of Seattle.” He didn’t bother going into the gritty—correction: the grimy and reeking—details about that one.
“Seattle,” she echoed. “A lovely city. I have been there a few times. On official tours with my parents and brothers, of course.”
“Which is why you still think all of it is lovely.”
A chill wafted over her expression. It was enough to convey she’d listened—and understood—him. “So that is your hometown?”
“If that’s the word that fits, then yes.”
“Is there another that fits better?”
Why he hesitated about responding, he didn’t know. She might be phrasing the questions a little differently than other women, but they weren’t new. He had more than enough experience with dodging them too. But there was the fucking rub. This time, he didn’t want to. With this woman, who’d given him the brightest heat of her body and the scariest secrets of her heart, he didn’t want to play duck and cover. He yearned to give her the same.
Okay, some of the same.
“You’re asking that of a guy who doesn’t really know what that word means, Pixie.” The confession felt as awkward as it sounded, but he ordered himself to go on. “Growing up, home meant a corner of the living room at my aunt and uncle’s place, next to a leaky window and a fire escape that was very popular for the horny cats on the block.”
A small frown crumpled her forehead. “Your aunt and uncle? But what about your maimanne and paipanne? Your parents?”
“Not around.”
He braced himself for her reaction. The same response he got from everyone, drenched in sorrow and pity, whenever he tried to shut down his revelation by just making shit simple. And yeah, Jayd did switch up her expression—but to neither of the intents he was dreading. Her reaction was different. Remarkably so. She actually seemed interested in what he was relaying. Curious, not condoling.
“So you were raised by others.” Again, it was more a statement of fact than a token of sympathy. It was almost like she…understood. No. Beyond that. It was as if she’d been through the exact same thing. And maybe, in her own way, she had.
“That also might be a matter of interpretation.” He pointedly cleared his throat. “But I think Roz and Jerry tried their best, considering they didn’t know I existed until the call from Seattle PD.” His shrug felt as stiff as it appeared. “Couldn’t have been easy for old Jer, dealing with a disappeared brother and a magically manifested nephew in the same night.”
“Of course.” She emulated his move, though it looked like her shoulder blades were wrapped in rebar. “Everyone does their best, do they not?” Okay, not rebar. Her whole torso was turning into a steel girder. Even her gaze favored the harsh shade of the metal. “But you can acknowledge that and still be sad about what you missed. Your own parents.” She visibly gulped. “Your real parents.”
Rebelling against all his wiser instincts, Brick’s throat closed up tighter. Shit. He should’ve known that zinger would be coming from her. But now the conversational ball was back in his court. Time to move things forward. Wallowing had never been his thing.
“I got out of Roz’s and Jer’s hair in a few years anyway,” he relayed. “Once I was strong enough to get some decent work, I did. Mostly it was just lugging boxes and cleaning out storage rooms, but a lot of times there were spare cots in those places. Many of those times, I’d be allowed to sleep over in exchange for cut pay. It was always just the basics, but it kept my ass from having to sleep in constant rain puddles.”
“Go on.”
Go on?
But now that he’d gotten started, he actually wanted to go on. It felt good to indulge the whole “talk to a stranger” shit, especially when said stranger was such a gorgeous and generous woman. It was also nice to notice that he wasn’t inducing her to a pity party or completely weirding her out. But the expression that was on her face…
He couldn’t figure it out. So now he was weirding out.
“So you were well-prepared for your military service, then.”
Well, hell.
So that was what she was thinking.
Brick scraped his free hand over his skull, using the action to disguise his astonishment. This was unexpected input. Unexpected but amazing. A statement conceived by a mind that continued to blow him away. Nowhere in that mind was the woman thinking how he’d grown up in back rooms instead of marble halls, or that he hadn’t rested his head on a clean pillow until his first night in boot camp. Instead of fixating on his past, she looked at what he’d done with the lessons from it. The strength he’d turned it into.
What cloud in heaven had this female been created on? He needed the mailing address so he’d know where to send his long thank-you note.
But that was on the to-do for later. Right now, he refocused on a gorgeous sprite who was clearly waiting for his response. “Yeah,” he told her, managing to stick in a sedate grin. “You could say I was ready to work hard.”
As a matter of fact, his first few weeks in Army Gruntville were more like going to summer camp—well, what he’d always imagined that would be. Hot food and showers on the regular, mixed between outdoors competitions and learning to work in teams. He was giddy, taking to the structure and discipline like GI goddamned Joe. After a few weeks, when they’d pulled him aside and asked about his interest in special forces, it was the easiest yes of his life.
He’d been so fucking young. So comically naïve.
Fortunately, Jayd didn’t read that chunk of his thoughts. Instead, she seemed engrossed in another thought track. “So was that when you started exploring your…proclivities? The…alternative…ways of doing things?”
He suppressed a laugh. For a female who had no trouble declaring personal sovereignty over her virginity, her new stammerings were damn adorable.
“Kink,” he supplied with an amiable wink. “It’s called kink, sweet girl. Or if you want to get more specific about the subset, TPE.”
She tilted her head. “TPE?”
“Stands for Total Power Exchange,” he explained. “And yes, it often goes along with its popular sibling, BDSM.”
She nodded, indicating she was familiar with the more notable acronym. “So they go together?”
“Often but not always.” Brick gentled his grip on her. Not a discussion to start with someone unless they had the option to break free. “For me, the dynamic isn’t always about the whips and toys and bruises. I’m happy to give those to a consenting submissive, if that’s what they need, but it’s not the necessary component for me.”
The princess shifted, facing him more directly. When he responded naturally, increasing his hold again, her stature actually eased.
“And what is that?” she murmured, as if he’d held her with the force of a shackle so many times before. Already epitomizing the strength of his one-worded reply.
“Trust,” he stated. “Plain and simple. But not just what a couple of people give with their bodies.” He cut in on himself with a chuff. “The physical elements are the easiest part.”
Jayd canted her head by another inch. “Because that is the part everyone can see.”
Brilliant girl. Amazing woman.
His new admiration made it difficult to restrict his touch, keeping everything to a gentle thumb stroke over her wrist. “Which makes the other shit easier to hide.” Screw it. There was no huge harm in circling his caress up to her forearm. “The part of the connection that’s even better than the rest.”
He braced himself for what was likely next. Subbies loved this line for the obvious opportunity it afforded. Steering the conversation back toward the rest as well as what they hoped to gain from him out of it. He’d never understood all that, considering all the components of his body and mind that went into every scene he was a part of. Dom drop, while rare, was real—and enough of a factor that he’d gotten pickier about his scenes, as well as who they were with. Never, in his whole kink journey, had he met a female he wanted to tie up again so soon.
Never…before now.
And as Murphy and his infamous Law would dictate, this woman only looked ready to continue with the direct subject at hand. “All the things that are going on inside,” she commented. “Yes, I understand.” She caught his skeptical glance but wasn’t deterred. “It is about other kinds of communication, yes? Not just the unspoken things with your body. The ways you talk to each other with your mind and even your soul. It becomes about deeper intentions. Forging those unspoken connections…”
Brick wasn’t sure why she purposely drifted on that thought. But maybe that was just how profound truths were communicated in heaven. She’d picked up the trick from the angelic crew who’d created her in the first place. It was either that, or—
Crap.
Why’d his brain have to go there?
But it was definitely there. Blocking out the logistics with gusto. Logistics telling him that kink wasn’t some magical land beyond Virgin Valley. That Jayd Cimarron wasn’t the unwitting subbie he’d first assumed. Which was bizarre but kind of cool.
“That’s all…pretty insightful, Pixie. And pretty damn right.”
She basked as if he’d anointed her with an A on a book report. “Well, it is a familiar way of thinking for me.”
Though Brick unclenched his teeth enough to speak, he forced his tone to the diplomatic straight-and-narrow. “Because you’ve been secretly exploring your own proclivities?”
And if so, exactly how had she done so? With some select friends back on Arcadia? What kind of friends? Helpers who’d gotten to see her naked? Were they male or female? And did that part really matter?
Fortunately, she didn’t discern his private asshole rant. The woman was actually laughing now. Not the robust burst from before but stunning him just as fully.
“If you qualify prayer as a proclivity, then yes,” she offered.
“Prayer.” Brick echoed the word as if he’d never heard it before. There were words with which he was friendlier, like hippopotamus and turducken. Practicing the word was an even more bizarre idea. But this moment changed all that. A lot. “So…while you and I were out there, doing what we did…”
A new giggle from her, dancing all over his unwitting pause. “You mean making the earth move and the stars sing?”
“Not exactly how I’d phrase it, but yes.” He wanted to grin but doused the expression while straddling the lounger and reaching for her other hand. “Are you saying that in your mind, it felt like…what? Going to church? Confessing your sins? Paying penitence?” Well, shit. He was out of his depth but just realizing it. He knew nothing about Arcadian religion, beyond the Creator that she, Jagger, and Requiemme invoked.
“Hmm.” Such a brief but telling sound. It gave away her earnest consideration. “It was not like any of those things, really.” She winced, seeming to silently apologize for shooting down his suggestion. “It was not like what I do on the outside for the Creator, if that makes sense? It was closer to what I feel on the inside…when I recognize feelings that are bigger than me.”
Brick studied her closely. “So, your church feelings.”
“Not just church. The Creator is larger than a building—the same way we are creatures with substance beyond our bones and muscles and skin. There is more there, yes? Our souls. Our spirits. The parts of us that are better shared with those we care about.” She stretched her fingers out, wrapping them around his forearms. “And those we trust.”
One long moment. Then another. Stretches of time he didn’t know what to do with. But like an astronaut surfing through space, he didn’t want to tug on the safety tether. Not yet.
“Brickham?” Her query was pitched high, as if more than a few minutes had gone by. “What is it?”
Her turquoises bore into him like lasers. But that wasn’t what made him opt for raw honesty with his reply.
“You trust me.”
The lasers softened as if they’d been pointed at a stuffed animal factory. “I do,” she whispered, bringing her knees up beneath her.
“You trust me as much as you trust your Creator.”
“Yes.” She nodded, adding unexpected emphasis to an equally startling answer. But now that she’d given it, Brick wasn’t sure what to do with it—especially when she appended, “Yes, Sir. I certainly do.”
Thank fuck he’d chosen not to tug on that space tether yet. Being weightless and groundless was really fitting for how he felt now—except for when he hit reality reentry because of the confused crunch across her features.
“Pixie?”
“Hmm? Yes, Sir?”
“You’re not locked down on that one, okay? You can take it back anytime. Hell, you can take it back now.”
Jayd shook her head. “That is not why—” She shook her head as if ripping herself out of a trance. “I am perplexed for an entirely different reason.”
He leaned over, releasing her hands so he could cup her butt and coax her a little closer. No way could he resist, with her being so close and looking so cute. Holy shit. Her confused face was as captivating as her orgasm face. How was that even possible?
“What is it, sweetheart?” Because at this moment, he’d unravel the meaning of the whole damn universe for her. He hoped his tender peck to her nose conveyed that clearly enough.
“If trust is the key to making the TPE work, why do I think about other people I trust… I mean, I suppose, other men I have dated…and not imagine doing any of that with them? Nothing that you and I did, anyway. And certainly nothing like what we saw back in the dungeon.”
Brick lifted his lips to softly brush them across her forehead, enjoying the spikes of her bangs against his lips. “Relationships are as complex and layered inside the kink world as outside it,” he conveyed. “There are clear rules and boundaries about the dynamics, but beneath it all, there are still human beings involved. Personalities in motion.” While carefully choosing his next words, he settled his weight back again. “There’s a damn good chance you were just meeting men who didn’t enjoy the kinky corner of the playground.”
“You mean the kinky corner of the island?” She ended it with a ponderous sigh. “Which, I assure you, does not exist on Arcadia.”
“Do you know that as fact?” Before the rebuttal was done, he cursed himself. “Have you tried asking? Or had Emme or Jagger ask for you?” And then a new curse, more brutal than before. What the hell? He’d never been into masochism but having her back on the find-a-Dom pro tips had to be angling his punch card for karma’s cut.
But what did it say about his sadistic side to give the woman such a generous taste of her submissiveness and then cut her loose to figure out the rest from here? Nope. That was also in the masochism column. Just thinking about her surrendering to someone else, the way she’d just given herself to him, stabbed his blood with icicled rage and his mind with primitive wrath.
Fuck.
Wasn’t all this supposed to be a hot but quick dalliance? An easy distraction for them both? Certainly not a hookup that would infect him with an ugly strain of alpha-hole resentment. And that clarified things to the texture of cheese soup. Her next words didn’t help the mire.
“Arcadia is not like Seattle, Brickham,” she stated, verbally underlining every word.
“I’m aware of that, Pixie.” He exaggerated his own emphasis, borrowing some of her irritation to mix with his strained patience.
“You have to imagine it in the same category as one of your American small towns,” she went on. “If the news is more scandalous than a weather update or a runaway pet, it hits the gossip pipeline like a flash flood. If just one wrong person learned that a Cimarron was inquiring about a place to get tied down and spanked, the island would lose forests from the combustion.”
Brick shoved aside his impatience. She’d communicated more than words with all that. Her frustration and sadness were palpable.
“It’s not as simple a place as it looks, is it?” he murmured. “Your island. Your…kingdom.” He cocked his head. “I suppose politics are politics, no matter if the country’s got five hundred or five billion.”
Her composure warmed, if only just a little. “My wise Sir Brickham is starting to get it.”
A gentle chuckle spilled from him too. “Wise? I’m not sure whether to thank you or spank you for that, young lady.”
“You know my preference on that, Sir.”
He sat back a little, already recognizing the danger zone to which they’d started inching again. Goddammit, how he yearned for an updated sit rep from Oz. If Requiemme, Fox, and him were all still stuck at the hospital, he’d be rolling this little vixen over and giving her exactly what she wanted. Right. This. Second.
“Fuck,” he spat, fighting his throbbing cock as much as her sultry stare. Fortunately, the same kind of comprehension crossed Jayd’s face, and she pushed herself to the foot of the lounger. Though the distance helped for a second or two, he was sure that if the couch became a football field, they’d find ways to gravitate back together. At least the erotic fog was thinning from his brain, and he watched some clarity return to her regard, as well.
“You are most right, of course,” she stated, revealing that all the ocean foam in her eyes had migrated to her throat. “Sometimes, I think Evrest would have an easier time governing a larger nation. He has already accomplished so much for Arcadia and is leading us toward many more opportunities for prosperity. The ideas he has for partnering with other countries in our region and beyond…” Her lips curved into a proud smile. “It is astonishing—and exciting.”
Brick doubted he blinked while witnessing the transformation of her whole composure. Though her posture straightened, it was with dignity and not stress. An unmistakable gleam reentered her brilliant eyes. It led to the conclusion that he finally voiced aloud.
“You’re proud of him. Your brother. King Evrest.”
“I am not the only one,” she asserted. “The vast majority of Arcadia’s denizens have embraced the improvements to our lifestyle, despite the small changes they’ve meant for our land and logistical processes.”
“The vast majority,” Brick reiterated. “Which still leaves room for the pesky minority.”
The princess swiveled around. Her chin was still high; her stare was intuitive but incisive. “I am not certain ‘pesky’ is an apt signifier in this case, Sir.”
“Valid point, Pixie.” He leaned back, supporting his head by curling his elbow up against the cushion.
“So you do know more about the Pura than their name.”
“And so do you.”
He prepped himself for a fresh fume from her. She was clearly dangling a line, hoping to reel in more intel about him than the scraps he’d been tossing. But when she averted her gaze, clearly more scared than incensed, his alarm gongs went off.
“Jayd?” He leaned forward again, not subtle about his scowl. “Look at me.” Thank God she didn’t fight him on that. “Now answer me,” he instructed in a lethally low growl. “Have any of those asswipes, Carris included, touched you? Or…hurt you?”
“No.” But her swift answer didn’t provide him with full assurance. Perhaps the opposite. “Not yet, at least.”
Oh, definitely the opposite.
“Which means what?” he bit out.
“Exactly that,” she volleyed. “I am certain they are wary about even breathing my direction, especially because they are confident I shall be traded into their clutches soon enough. But Emme has heard stories from the other palais servants…”
“Stories about what?”
She averted her gaze and wetted her lips. “The bonsuns have…initiations,” she confessed. “They make people…the women and younger men, at least…prove their loyalty to the cause in very specific ways.”
“Fuck.”
“Those are just the whispered rumors, of course,” she inserted. “On top of their more public actions, like kidnapping Brooke and invading the Palais Arcadia itself.”
“Brooke,” he echoed, searching his memory for a clearer reference. “That’s Brooke Valen, right? The daughter of Chase Valen?”
“She is now Brooke Cimarron.” The corners of her mouth kicked up. “If I did not clear that up, my brother Samsyn would have my head on a pike. But you have it right. She is the daughter of the senator from your country, once presumed dead at the treachery of Rune Kavill.”
“The apeshit radical responsible for financing the Pura into existence.”
“They have always been in existence,” she chided. “But with Kavill’s influence, they had the means to finally level up. One month, they were a few groups huddling in scattered basements. The next, they had uniforms, offices, computers, and stacks of burner cell phones.” While uttering that, she inched her way back toward Brick. Along the way, she wrapped a hand around his calf like it was her life buoy in a flood. “And now they are demanding a seat on the Arcadian High Council.”
“And access to the inner palais through marriage to their princess.”
The second it spilled from him—and turned her gorgeous face into a collection of agonized lines—Brick winced too. Christ on dry toast, had a few years out on Whidbey watered down his aptitude for discretion?
His throat ached as he forced back a growl. No way. This had nothing to do with his skills and everything to do with this woman. How she made him entirely forget himself.
“Damn it,” he uttered. “I’m sorry, Pixie. Talk about dousing the moment in acid rain.”
Jayd shook her head while scooting a little closer. She dropped her hand back into her lap, as opposed to flowing farther up his leg. He should’ve been grateful. Instead, he gulped harder to suppress a string of profanity.
“I think we have enough rain around here already, yes?” she lightly jested. “And you are not exactly dropping a shocker on me, Brickham. To be honest, I was not completely stunned when Trystan barged into Evrest’s office with his sleazy demand.”
He narrowed his stare. “But the intel they dragged in with them…the truth about your true paternity…that had to be one giant dirty bomb, right?”
“No.”
Her gaze, soft and sad, was now centered on his sternum.
“No?”
His reply, terse and stunned, matched the finger he nudged beneath her chin. The woman was unashamed about returning his scrutiny. She even lifted a hand to trace gentle swirls along his knuckles.
“I have sensed, my whole life, that I was different from my brothers somehow. I mean, there are the obvious ways…”
“The very obvious.” He let his touch dip to the valley between her breasts.
Her face warmed in that irresistibly steamy way again, but she schooled herself enough to go on. “While the timing of Trystan’s news was the absolute worst, it was not an absolute blow to me.”
“And to your brothers?”
“Them neither.” Her demeanor grew even more solemn. “Regrettably, as the four of us grew into adulthood, our parents’ wandering interests became clearer to us.”
“Well, that must’ve royally sucked. Pardon the wordplay,” he finished in a mutter.
“Somewhat,” she admitted. “But only that. Ironically, my maimanne’s infidelity was a direct result of our parents’ arranged marriage—an embarrassing element of the antiquated system that the Pura are still fighting for.”
Brick grunted. “That really sucks.”
She sniffed, but the action was more dismissive than miserable. “I cannot even pretend to understand the Pura anymore. The blinders on their eyes are formed of Titanium and then welded onto their minds.”
“Well, there’s an image.”
“And I want to forget it now.”
“Me too.” But no way could they indulge his first solution for that plan, which had his dick already pitching another tent in his pants, so he pushed away and swung to his feet. The only answer to not touching her was getting the hell away from her. “I also think we’ve spent enough time looking backward for one night,” he stated, turning his sights out the rain-soaked window.
“Which means…what?” Luckily, Jayd sounded as relieved as she was curious. The woman was earning the acumen he first gave her credit for, picking up on the same conclusion he had. If they were going to have a reasonable conversation, they couldn’t do it within caressing distance of each other.
“You’ll have to help me out with that answer, Pixie.” He hitched a hip high enough against the windowsill to casually fold his hands over his crotch. “How are you envisioning the rest of this trip playing out?” He absorbed the brunt of her perplexed pout before adding, “You’ve thought that far ahead, right? Past the reunion with your father?”
Which, by this point, stood about a ten percent chance of happening—though he wasn’t about to rattle off those odds. If he was starting to fill out her personality profile right, she’d take those statistics and conclude she could bend them to her will. That might very well mean her bolting out the door before his head finished spinning.
For a long moment, it looked like she’d already jumped on that dizzying ride. She steadied herself by spreading her hold on the edge of the lounger and extending her legs out. Brick wasn’t complaining. Even encased in leggings, the woman’s legs were mesmerizing collisions of curves and grace. But he didn’t fixate on the lust. Not when her face was still plagued with such anxiety.
“Well, I was hoping to stay here for a bit,” she confessed at last. “Not here here. I mean, somewhere in Paris—at least until things blew over, one way or another, in Arcadia. I have already signed a lease on an apartment for a month, with the option of continuing longer.”
Brick pushed all the way to his feet and nailed her with his urgent stare. “Please tell me you used an alias on that lease.”
She rolled her eyes. “I am impetuous, Brickham. Not ludicrous.”
“Good girl.” He released an assuaged breath anyway. “So your plan was to meet your real father, then have some time getting to know him.”
“My plan is just that,” she countered. “Yes, you are right. That is exactly what I plan on doing.”
He cocked his head, hoping it’d soften the critical bite of his reply. “Despite the real possibility that you’ll walk right back into Carris’s crosshairs?”
She blinked at him, confused. “Is that not why you, Oz, and Jag have joined forces?”
Oh, hell.
“Sweetheart.” He straightened his posture. “We’re not the forces of anything here. We bundled our talents for one purpose alone: to make sure the dickwad didn’t get his hands on you in the first place. But if he does and can charm or bribe enough of the right brass at the PP and the airport, there’s not a damn thing we’ll be able to do for you.”
She was quiet, absorbing all that. Too quiet. Brick hated the new squall that seemed to stall over the building, dumping rain like hysterical tears. He shifted his weight, wishing she’d just let out her own emotions, but when she raised her head, her face was frighteningly dry. Nearly impassive.
Which forced his hand like she’d whipped a glue gun. Shit. But one of them had to crack this conversation back open, so to hell with his comfort zone.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he offered. “That’s probably not what you wanted to hear, but—”
“If everyone only attended things they wanted to hear, Brickham, the world would never get changed.”
“Truth,” he mumbled while watching her shove all the way to her feet. But beyond that, he was going to be shit for words for a minute. Maybe two. He already knew the woman was bright, clever, tough, and tenacious. But level-headed to the point of profundity? She was a princess, for fuck’s sake. A royal darling who’d been raised on a remote island.
Two facts that were glaring reminders of a third. A tenet pounded into his head so many times, over so many years, he was dumbstruck it’d vanished for three tiny seconds.
The deepest truth about a person is the hardest thing to see.
It was a damn useful mantra on his list, constantly useful for keeping him neutral when interacting with assets. Though Jayd Cimarron was far from a basic asset, he’d gotten too damn lax about the principle. He’d slipped her beneath a whole handful of his unfair filters.
“All right, let’s back things all the way up, princess.” He applied the order to his own brain too. No more casting this woman in the hues of her rank, her title, or her last name. It was time to strip her from his expectations as thoroughly as he’d stripped her from her clothes. Not a comparison that necessarily helped right now… “If Carris wasn’t a factor here, and you and Emme were still wandering incognito through the city, what were your eventual goals for that scenario?”
For a long second, Jayd didn’t react. As soon as she restarted a strum of fingers along the lounger’s headboard, he knew the question was at least getting some deeper processing from her beautiful brain.
“Perhaps that is also why I needed the time,” she finally stated. “To figure all that out, I mean. To figure myself out.”
But she wasn’t even finished with the words before a harsh V formed between her eyebrows. As soon as her aquas turned the shade of moonless midnight, Brick broke back in. “All right. What’s wrong with that?”
“What is right with it?” she retorted, flinging up a hand. “There are billions of people across this globe, suffering in awful and real ways, and I am standing here swan-diving into my navel, worried about ‘who I really am’?” After gesticulating the air quotes, she turned her hand and facepalmed herself. “You hear it, do you not? That loud scream of how banal and privileged I sound?”
“Wait. What about how normal?” Brick returned. “Maybe even how human?” He landed the last part before she could push out her huff. “Okay, I get it. You’re a princess—”
“Was a princess.”
He narrowed his eyes. Rolling them would’ve been a waste of time and effort. “You were raised with the expectation that you’d be wearing a crown for the rest of your life. We can agree on that, right? But that doesn’t mean that at the age of…”
“Twenty-four.”
Shit. She was only twenty-four? Granted, he’d slept with younger, though it had all been legal and consensual—and so damn illusional. He saw behind all those girls’ jaded façades, knowing the “maturity” was just an act. But Jayd Cimarron wasn’t pulling an act. She really did have the sentience and conscience of someone older.
After the initial jolt of that extra intel, he embraced it for the logical helpmate it could be. “Right. Twenty-four. At the age of twenty-four, crowned or commoner, you’re not expected to have the cosmic eight ball memorized. Hell, with the wild ride you’ve been on lately, I’d be surprised the eight ball itself wasn’t rolling to the corner for some fetal position time.” He reveled in her awkward little snicker, complete with a punctuating snort, before going on. “So, yeah. Fine. You’ve had the grace of education, enlightenment, servants, and space. But you also had advisors, administrators, handlers, and PR gurus, all feeding you ideas about who you should be. But as soon as your birthright got ripped out from beneath you, all those concepts got blown to shit.”
Jayd wasn’t giggling at him anymore. For several long beats, all she did was blink. Then for several more, she did it as iridescent drops rolled down her cheeks. “That…is exactly how it feels.”
“Then cut yourself some slack for the rest,” Brick murmured. “You’re a human being, not a machine that can simply be reprogrammed.”
She absorbed his assertion with a hesitant tug of teeth on her lower lip. He’d barely recovered from fixating on that hypnotizing sight, when more diamond-perfect tears appeared on her lashes. And that did it. So much for his brain supplying a superb grand finale for his pep talk.
Fortunately, the woman herself broke their stillness. “Well. I was right in the first place.”
Brick approached her with slow but steady steps. “Right about what?” His tone borrowed from the small smile that twitched at her lips.
“About you being so wise, Sir.”
With a gruff grumble, he hitched his hold to her hip. He repeated the sound while drawing her back against him. “That’s not wisdom, Pixie. That’s just some hard life lessons sticking to my thick cranium.”
She lifted a hand in tandem with her soft, searching gaze. As she spread her fingers up from his nape, she whispered, “Well, I am thankful to the Creator for knowing you would need the extra layers.”
He slid her a skeptical look. “That so?”
“Of course.” She hit right back with a wallop of conviction. “They helped keep you alive, yes?”
“Along with my wily friends and my killer good looks? Sure, I’ll concur.”
“Well, friends and looks only take you so far.” Her comment was as literal as how she’d taken his. It was so adorable, he couldn’t summon the nerve to correct her. “The rest is completely up to you.”
“I’ll concur with that too.” He infused it with genuine warmth before adding half a smile. Goddamn. This little sprite in her earnest mode… She was so endearing. Entrancing. Extraordinary. “Especially because I’ve been inspired by a certain pixie with a lot of gumption of her own.”
He was happy when the edges of her mouth kicked up. He ditched the feeling when the trend didn’t continue up into her gaze. That burgeoning sheen still dominated the aqua depths, threatening to spill out again.
“I am nothing to be inspired by, Brickham,” she grated.
“And I definitely don’t concur with that one, Miss Cimarron.”
“Says the thick-skulled warrior to the crownless princess?”
“Which basically makes us He-Man and She-Ra.”
“He who and she who?”
He shook his head and chuckled. “American goodness nobody had the sense to show you during college.” He tucked in and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll have to send you some video links when we’re not standing in the middle of a three-way Venn chart.”
She didn’t demand an explanation for that one. There was full comprehension in the stare she raised to meet his. They really were in the tiny triangle at the center of destiny’s three-way, unable to make a move until they could contain the threat from Carris, locate the elusive LaBarre, or get a clear decision on Requiemme’s condition.
Since there was a next-to-nothing chance on any of those right now, Brick opted for the golden opportunity he did have. Holding her as close as he could, for as long as he could. And this time, making sure to remember every detail of how it felt. Her perfect pliability as she leaned into him. Her delicious scent, like honey and amber on a summer breeze, filling his senses. But most of all, the assurance of her sweet breath on the base of his neck, spreading that warmth through his entire chest.
This was definitely one for his lifetime hard drive. One day, maybe he’d be telling his grandkids about the night he comforted a princess in a shabby Paris apartment and how she made him feel a little bit more whole again because of it.
Grandkids.
Okay, there was the best joke of the day. Because that was ever going to happen, yeah? Because he’d have so much to offer the tikes, right? Not to mention, the tike who’d have to come before them. The kid he’d be lucky not to fuck up before kindergarten.
No. Just no.
He’d settle for making a difference elsewhere. In moments like these, with a singular human like this, with a life ahead of her that he could help improve in his small way.
Small things added to the good of the world too.
His own body, now thrumming with heat after the ignition of her breath, was living proof.
And a point could never have too much proof…
Or a fire too much heat…
Or an attraction too many kisses…
He couldn’t get in the concurrence for that one fast enough.
The same way he couldn’t sweep his head down too quickly or push his mouth against hers with enough urgency.
And then add his lusty moan to hers.
And then twirl his thirsty tongue along hers.
And fill his spread hands with her luscious curves. The gorgeous swells of her hips. The enticing globes of her ass. Where to next? He needed to feel more. He needed to feel it naked…
“Brickham.”
Her sigh, vibrating the stubble along his jaw, betrayed that her thoughts were damn near on the same page. Thank fuck.
“Yeah, Pixie?” he rasped. “What do you want? Tell me.”
She sighed again. The sound hit him like an angel singing Mozart. Christ, what she did to him, even with simple air running past her lips…
There was more music now. But it wasn’t her next sigh. It wasn’t even close.
Just as quickly, the French pop song snippet ended. Brick nuzzled his lips to his sprite’s ear, hoping all she wanted to hear were angelic trumpets as well.
The tinny cell phone song started again.
Goddammit.
“Oh! That is my phone!” she exclaimed.
Brick groused the curse aloud this time but loosened his embrace and let her step free. Correction: she bolted free before sprinting into the next room. Along the way, she muttered something to herself. Not cuss words. Brick could recognize that much.
He should have tried harder to figure it out.
Because it was too late to do anything once he latched on to exactly what she whispered so excitedly, over and over again.
“It is him. It is him. Oh, Paipanne, you are truly calling me!”