Page 61 of Hideaway Heart
Could I have more? It would be fun, but was it wise? Could this hot little vacation fling somehow come back to bite me in the ass?
I couldn’t see how, really. I trusted Xander not to run to the internet tabloids or sell his story to the gossipmongers. We weren’t making out in public. Photos of us in a clinch weren’t going to pop up in entertainment news with a lot of speculation over who was banging Pixie Hart. Duke wasn’t going to see them and come at me in a fit of jealous rage.
Not that I cared. I didn’t belong to him. And he didn’t really want me back—he just wanted the door to my bedroom to remain open for him. He liked the publicity we generated. He enjoyed me as candy on his arm.
Well, too fucking bad. I had no illusions he’d give a shit if I wasn’t Pixie Hart. Maybe at first it was flattering to have the attention of such a well-known star, to feel special that you were the one who’d caught his eye when he could have anyone he wanted, to feelchosen, but reality had set in eventually. He hadn’t chosen me. He didn’t even know me. And he certainly hadn’t been faithful to me.
I remembered Xander’s words from last night.You don’t have to perform for me. I don’t want an act. I don’t want to fuck Pixie Hart.
How could he have known I needed to hear those words so badly?
Suddenly the arm around me tightened. “It’s tomorrow.” His voice was gruff in my ear.
“Yes?”
“You said I could give you a third orgasm tomorrow, and it’s tomorrow.”
I laughed. “It’sbarelytomorrow.”
“Does that mean you don’t want one?” His hand snaked lower.
I was about to say ofcourse I want one, so keep goingwhen I remembered what he said about putting up a fight. I squeezed my legs together, denying his access. “You can’t just give me an orgasm when you feel like it. You don’t own me.”
He froze. Then it clicked—we were playing a game. “You say bear, and it’s over,” he whispered.
“Okay.”
Turning his hand sideways, he slid his fingers between my thighs. “You don’t want this?”
“No,” I said, tugging on his thick, sturdy wrist. It was like trying to pick up a cinderblock with my pinky. “I told you once before, I’m sick of being pushed around. I’m tired of everyone telling me what to do. This time, I’m putting up a fight.”
In two seconds flat, he had me pinned beneath him, my stomach to the mattress, his body heavy on my back. “Do it. Put up a fight.”
I squirmed and wiggled, as if I wanted to escape. One of my arms was trapped under my stomach along with one of his, but I swung at him with the other one—he laughed and let me flail before catching me by the wrist with his free hand and twisting that arm behind my back.
Placing his knees on either side of my thighs to keep them in place, he somehow captured my other arm, so he had both wrists crossed and pinioned against my lower back. “You’re going to have to fight harder than that, baby.”
I floundered and kicked and writhed, but it was like my upper body was encased in cement. “Not fair,” I panted, turning my head to the side. “You’re so much bigger and stronger than me.”
“You’re right. It really isn’t fair at all.” Somehow he locked one hand around both my wrists, holding them in place while he slid his other hand under my hips and hitched them up. Then he slipped a finger inside me from behind. Or maybe it was his thumb. “You’re wet.” His tone was cocky. “You want this.”
“I don’t,” I lied, inwardly begging for more.
As if he heard me, he pushed in deeper, crooking his finger in some magical way that had my mouth opening wide on a fast exhale. “Liar,” he rasped, now rubbing his fingertips over my clit in slow, sensual circles. “Now come for me.”
“Never. Go to hell.” I was panting with need, my nipples hard and tingling, my lower body surging with heat and pleasure. I wanted to move, to fuck his hand, to give up the fight. But part of what was turning me on so much was the game of resistance.
He flattened my body with his and spoke with a menacing tone. “Don’t move, if you know what’s good for you.” Then he leaned down and reached under the bed. He felt around, and a moment later, he brought up his hand with my curvy little mini vibrator tucked in his grip. “What’s this?”
It looked small in his wide, strong hand, but I knew how powerful it could be. “It’s none of your business.”
He pushed a button, switching it on. “Funny, I distinctly remember you offering to share your toys with me last night.”
“I changed my mind.”
A laugh rumbled in his chest as he slipped his hand beneath my hips again, yanked them up, and pressed the humming vibrator against my clit. “Too late now.”
“Jerk.” I pushed my forehead into the mattress. It felt so good, the way he was rubbing me with the rumbling little toy. I felt the vibrations in every fiber of my being. My body moved of its own accord as the tension pulled tight across my abdomen.