Forever Never

Remi sat front and center at Tiki Tavern’s bar while Brick, Darius, and her very excited father on his first bar shift handled drink orders. She was determined to enjoy the night, to forget about everything weighing her down, and focus only on having a little fun.

The music was loud, bathing the packed bar in golds and shimmers of rose. The crowd still leaned heavily in favor of the residents, but there were enough seasonal workers and early tourists to shift the balance. As she sipped her drink, straight bourbon tonight, and kept up with the conversations around her, Remi thought about what she’d be doing if this were a normal night in her normal life.

In Alessandra’s life.

She would have been painting, alone into the night. Or she might have been dressed up, made up, for an event to sell herself, her talent to buyers with the right kind of deep pockets.

Instead, she was crammed in between Audrey and Kimber and lusting after her bartending boyfriend. Kimber was doing her best to ignore Kyle, who had not only shown up but bought the last two rounds and was trying to coax her sister into a dance. Spencer—having shown up on the afternoon ferry the day before—was sandwiched in between Audrey and Darius’s boyfriend, Ken.

Brick hadn’t even blinked at the extra guest. With two kids, a separated sister, an ex-wife, and a dog, what was one more?

Remi, on the other hand, had blinked an eye on her way to bed, when she’d spotted Spencer sneaking into Audrey’s room after midnight. Audrey’s arm snaking out and dragging him inside.

Brick hadn’t come home from his patrol until two, when she’d already been sound asleep, curled up with Magnus in his big bed. Their morning quickie had been interrupted before it started with a call from dispatch.

Between the full house and the beginning of the tourist season, they hadn’t had any alone time, and she was desperate for him.

The feeling appeared to be mutual. Every time he turned back to her, his gaze dipped to the lace-up front of her sweater dress. It was a long-sleeved mini dress in hunter green that hugged her curves. She’d paired it with gray suede boots that stopped at mid-thigh.

All with the express purpose of driving Brick Callan crazy.

She knew the signals of his arousal. The tightening of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils like he could catch her scent. The narrowing of those blue eyes that burned with an intensity that took her breath away. The way his fingers lingered on the glass he served her.

He smoldered. And she ate it up.

When AC/DC’s “Shoot to Thrill” came on in a storm of reds and oranges, Remi dragged Audrey and Kimber out on the crowded dance floor with her. They danced like they had in high school, shimmying and grinding for the pure enjoyment of it.

When a friendly red-headed guy in a button-down put his hands on her hips, she felt the weight of Brick’s gaze on her. Heating her skin and making her nipples ache for his mouth, for that rough scratch of his beard. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and raised her arms as the song came to a climax, letting the colors, the beat of the music, flow over her.

The crowd whooped when the song ended, and Remi fanned herself. With a wave at her dance partner, she headed down the hallway toward the restrooms. A hand gripped her upper arm hard, and she found herself being propelled out the emergency exit.

Her pulse sky-rocketed as a pissed-off looking Brick whirled her around to face the facade of the building. He kicked a crate over on its side then lifted her to stand her on top of it.

“Hands on the wall,” he ordered, lips tickling her ear as those big, broad hands of his traveled the front of her body.

Light and laughter poured from the window next to them as their friends and neighbors went about their Friday night business, none the wiser to the debauchery happening on the other side of the wall.

“Here?” she whispered, eagerly slapping her palms against the clapboard siding. He kicked her feet out, widening her stance, making Remi instantly wet and aching. She’d fantasized about this for so many years. Pushing him past his limits so he had to drag her away, had to take her, and remind her who she belonged to.

The sound of his belt loosening had her breath catch in her throat.

“You keep breathing for me, baby. Nice and deep.”

She nodded vigorously. God, she hoped her breath wasn’t the only thing going nice and deep.

The sound his zipper made as he lowered it was music to her ears. And when his hands slid under the hem of her dress, pushing it up over her hips, she whimpered.

Her fingers bit into the rough surface of the wall as she tilted her hips in invitation, offering herself to him.

He growled his approval and traced one finger over her underwear, dipping it into the seam between her cheeks. On instinct, she pressed her hips back against his touch. Wanting.

“You’re my bad girl tonight,” he rasped possessively.

“Yes,” she hissed when she felt him fist his erection at the root and guide it along the same path his finger had just taken.

“You want my touch everywhere.” To emphasize his point, he thrust the crown of his cock against her, the thin cotton barrier preventing him from penetrating her.

She didn’t trust her voice to answer. To tell him how much she wanted him to take her and make her his plaything. So she nodded instead, trembling with anticipation.

He dragged her underwear down to mid-thigh. Adrenaline dumped into her bloodstream, mixing with the wild need she felt for him. Even here in the narrow walkway between buildings where they could easily be discovered, she trusted him implicitly to take care of her, to keep her safe, to take her the way she needed to be taken.

His breath was hot against her neck, his body hard and ready at her back.

She felt the current of air a split second before his palm connected with her ass in a stinging slap. The sound of it echoing off the wall of the building.

“That’s for teasing me in public,” he growled in her ear as he held the hem of her dress at her back. There was a low rumble of triumph in his chest, and she could picture him fisting his cock with one big hand as he watched her skin turn pink.

Remi tried to squeeze her thighs together to relieve some of the pressure that had built to astronomical heights. But he didn’t allow it.

“No, baby. You don’t get to feel better yet,” he said. She could hear the rhythmic stroking of his palm wrapped around his arousal.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He groaned again.

The next slap caught her by surprise, and she yelped. It was even harder, and the sting of it drove her crazy. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she could push Brick this far. That he’d have to drag her outside to discipline her while being so turned on he had to pleasure himself while he did it.

She felt the crown of his penis dragging across her abused flesh, leaving a slick trail.

His pleasure made hers even fiercer.

“That’s for liking your punishment.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, nearly giddy with need.

“You know what I should do?” he pressed himself against her, and she gasped as the thick head of his erection slid between her legs, parting her folds.

“W-what?” she whispered.

“I should just use you to get myself off. Bad girls don’t get to come.”

She could feel his knuckles where he gripped his shaft against her. Guiding it through her folds. She tilted her hips, hinging forward so his head grazed her clitoris. Her legs shook, her core clenching greedily.

But Brick wasn’t done torturing her. He dragged the head of his cock back through her wetness and up the valley of her behind. Back and forth with violent strokes of his hand. He could make her come like this. When she was strung this tight, he could make her come doing anything.

“But then it’s just as much a punishment for me if I don’t get to feel you choking the life out of my dick.”

Dirty-talking Brick Callan was irresistible.

He reached around her, shoving his hand into her dress to close around her breast. Her nipple instantly pebbled against his palm. His fingers tugged, rolled the sensitive bud until she whimpered.

She bowed her back hard and stepped her feet as wide as the box would allow, wondering if she would come or break into a thousand pieces from the pressure building inside her.

“I’ve got a bar full of people waiting for drinks. And you make me drag you out here to remind you who the fuck you belong to.” He was panting now, jacking his cock hard against her. Every time he nudged her clitoris, she saw stars, and her body quaked.

He was going to come jerking himself off against her because he wanted her that much.

She felt vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

With one soft grunt, he started coming against her. His fingers spasming hard over her tender nipple. The slick head of his arousal nudged that needy bundle of nerves again, spurting hotly at the same time, and Remi went off. Exploding like fireworks, her inner walls rolled through the orgasm.

She whimpered as he aimed his next spurt against the tight hole between her cheeks. And then he was feeding his still-coming cock into her still clenching core.

“Take it. Take me, Remington,” he said on an animalistic groan. He bucked into her, forcing her to take more and more.

With the hand that had been pumping his cock, he covered her mouth a second before a scream ripped from her throat.

He powered into her on an abrupt thrust, bringing her up onto her toes. Her cry was muffled by his hand.

“Fuck,” he gritted out against her ear. “Fuck.”

The thick penetration, the lubrication from his never-ending orgasm, it was so fucking good. So magical.

As he spurted hotly inside her, Brick slid an arm around her hips, lifting until her feet were no longer in contact with the box, and then he started fucking her. Short, hard drives as she hung over his arm like a rag doll coming on his shaft.

The desperation of his possession rolled her orgasm into another.

“I’m still coming,” she whimpered. He found her clitoris with his fingers and worked the swollen bud with tight circles as his semen slowly leaked out of her, slipping down her thighs.

They were both trembling through the aftershocks when he set her on her feet again. Her knees nearly buckled, then did when he slapped her on the ass hard.

“That’s for making me do this to you. For making me drag you out here instead of waiting to lay you down, instead of worshipping your sweet fucking tits with my mouth. Instead of fucking you in front of the fireplace with my hand in your hair. For making me wish I could be inside you always. For making me obsessed with the sound my hand makes on your ass. How am I supposed to ever be without this? How, Remi?”

Jesus. He was done coming. But he wasn’t done fucking her. Wasn’t done branding her from the inside. He just kept thrusting into her, as if he were trying to find a depth that made them feel like one instead of two.

“Then don’t,” she wheezed between thrusts.

He stopped, his cock buried to the hilt. “Don’t what?” His voice was steely.

“Don’t be without this. Don’t be without me.”

His hands closed around her hips hard enough to bruise. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying ask me to stay. Ask me to be yours.”

“You are mine.” His grip tightened, painful on her hips.

“It’s really hard to have a conversation like this,” she groaned.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Suddenly, he was no longer inside her. She whimpered at the loss.

“Hold on, baby,” Brick said grimly, setting her back on the ground and tugging her underwear into place. They immediately soaked through with his orgasm.

“Brick!”

He dragged her dress down. When she spun around on shaky legs, she found him tucking himself, still fully hard, into his pants.

“Did I say something—”

But he clamped a hand on her wrist. “Let’s go.”

“Go? Where?”

But he was yanking the door open and pushing her inside.

“Are you seriously making me go back inside with a quart of your semen collecting in my underwear?” she hissed.

He shoved her into the office, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“Now. Say it again.” He prowled toward her.

The gleam in his eyes made Remi very nervous.

“I-I forget. We can talk about this some other time,” she decided.

But when she tried to slip past him, he merely picked her up and put her on his desk. He pulled the chair out and sat.

Her legs hung outside his own and forced her knees wider. His hands slid up her thighs, rubbing the tight muscles they found.

When his thumbs skimmed over the edges of her underwear, she began to tremble. Back and forth, up and down her thighs. Until she was almost relaxed. Until he reached into his jeans and pulled his cock out again. It lay there, thick and hard curving up against his stomach.

“Say it again,” Brick ordered.

He looked so powerful sitting there, with his long legs spreading her own wider. His thick, veined arousal waiting for attention. His eyes on her. The boss. The dominant.

Both his strength and need bottomless.

“I said you could ask me to stay,” she said, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Do you want to stay here with me?” The intensity of his stare made her skin burn.

She took a shaky breath. “I have to fix things for Camille first. But after…if everything is okay…” If she survived… “I know we haven’t really talked about after. But I want to be here. With you.”

His face was unreadable, almost as if it had turned to stone.

“Unless that’s not something you want,” she faltered.

He shook his head slowly and then lowered his face to her lap. “You’re a fucking dream come true.”

“Dream or nightmare?” Remi asked.

“Both.” He hooked his finger through the crotch of her saturated underwear and tugged.

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

“Yeah. I do. Hold the fuck on to me.”

She only had enough time to put her hands on his shoulders as he yanked her off the edge of the desk, down onto his shaft.

He filled her so deeply, stretched her so far with her legs spread wide over the thin metal arms of the chair, she almost came apart right then and there. The angle had him going so deep she couldn’t catch her breath.

Her head spun as he held her there, impaled and immobile, legs dangling. She could feel the blood pulsing in his shaft.

“Breathe, baby. Deep, slow breaths. Let me in.”

“I-I can barely take you like this,” she whispered. Something was happening inside her. Like storm clouds gathering. There was pain with the fullness. Little lightning slivers of it. But there was also something else roiling to the surface. Something unsurvivable. Something beautiful.

She watched in fascination as the last inch of him eased into her body.

He groaned and yanked the top of her dress down, leaning forward to lap at her breast. “You’re such a good girl. So fucking tight.”

She squeaked out a breath and another one. Every time she inhaled, she felt like she was coming apart at the seams. Every swollen inch, every vein, every throb of his cock felt like it belonged to her.

“When you’re ready, you’re going to rock for me, and we’re both going to come again,” he told her, shifting his attention to her other breast. Her nipple felt cool and wet from his mouth.

“Okay,” she whispered. She gave a testing squeeze of her inner muscles, and he moaned against her breast like a man starved for release.

“So fucking tight, Remi.”

“It’s starting to feel good,” she confessed. Really good.

“I know. I can feel all those greedy little muscles in your pretty cunt shaking with how much they want this, how much they need me to move. Are you ready to move, baby doll?”

“God, yes,” she hissed.

He brought his thumb to that needy bundle of nerves and brushed over it once, twice, while drawing deeply at her breast.

“Move,” he ordered.

She did as she was told, bucking against him with a roll of her hips.

He growled, the vibration of it tingling her nipple. Again she rocked her hips, barely moving on his shaft, but it was enough. He was so deep, so thick, and that thumb was working its magic.

“Brick,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

“I’ve got you, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

She levered her thighs down against the metal of the chair, shifting the angle until the head of his throbbing penis rubbed exactly the right spot. She wanted to close her eyes and focus on the sensation, but the view of him holding her like this, impaling her, was too much to look away from.

“Good girl.”

He was panting, she realized. And so was she. She rocked against him, keeping him as deep as he’d ever been. Fire. It was inside her veins, racing through her body. It was scorching her skin everywhere he touched her. He was going to burn her alive. And she was going to let him.

The pressure built inside her, an exquisite torture.

He was so thick, so hard, so damn deep it didn’t matter. His arm banded around her back, holding her impaled on him, and then he began to thrust.

“Mine,” he growled, claiming her breast with his mouth. The long, hard pulls of his mouth echoing in the needy muscles that trembled around his shaft.

“Yours,” she whispered as she rode him. His thumb pressed harder, and it was like a trigger had been pulled.

On a broken sob, she came apart on him. He went rigid under her, grunting against her breast as he came again, the picture of agonized ecstasy.