Playin' with Fire

Chase Maverick felt the roar of magma through his veins, the searing blood heading straight to his cock. In his groggy, somewhat hungover state, he lingered between the lure of a wild and wicked dream that seemed a bit too real and the pull of early morning golden rays beyond his closed eyelids.

Strands of silky hair caressed his chest. A warm, shapely body pressed against him, firm breasts nestling under his pecs. Supple lips trailed over his bare skin and manicured nails teased his nipples as the seductress all but clawed at him. Once. Twice. Three times. Pebbling the little buds tight—making them even tighter as a moist, skilled tongue soothed the erotic scrapes, swirling and fluttering.

He sighed contentedly as his dick thickened. Reveled in the fingers that skimmed along his ribs and farther south to coil around his erection.

Chase let out a low groan. There was no better way to wake up than with a naked and eager-to-please woman in his bed.

Even if it wasn’t technically his bed.

The reality of the situation crept around the fringes of the sleepy, lust-induced haze clouding his mind. But all he could concentrate on was the confident hold she had on him and the rush of pleasure that spread through his entire body.

The vixen knew what the hell she was doing. While one hand stroked his shaft, she used the other to glide her wet palm smoothly over his cockhead. She licked her hand again and repeated the gesture in a circular motion as she jerked him off.

There was no need to open his eyes. No need to be led down the path his subconscious beckoned him to travel, seemingly wanting him to question who the mystery woman was. Chase told himself it didn’t matter. She was damn good at caressing and massaging, pumping more vigorously now. Responding to the bucking of his hips and the carnal sounds falling from his lips.

He could smell her perfume, despite it being a day old. The sultry scent had infiltrated his every pore and he somehow couldn’t shake the alluring fragrance. It was the type of expensive enhancement meant to entice and bewitch a man so that even though he knew he shouldn’t cave to a woman so not right for him, he simply couldn’t help himself.

Chase typically steered clear of that kind—he’d met plenty of class acts looking for a “novelty” thrill during his days as a rodeo god. Those days weren’t so far behind him, but still. It usually wasn’t difficult to maintain his distance from the divas when he was home because the small Hill Country community of Wildfire, Texas didn’t attract the rich and affluent.

Well, there was one heiress in town to speak of…

His eyelids flew open.

Shit.

Fuck.

Damn.

Hell.

Irritation ripped through him at his apparent lack of willpower and severe lapse in judgment.

But it was too late.

He felt the titillating flicker of her tongue over the tip of his dick. The irritation vaporized.

She toyed with him a few seconds more, increasing the anticipation. Then she sucked him deep into that luscious mouth of hers. The one he’d kissed passionately last night, despite every fiber of his being screaming to stay the hell away from her.

Chase’s muscles flexed, the tension within him pulling taut. His hand found the back of her head and he held her steady as he gained control, fucking her mouth. She took everything he gave her. And gave in return with her velvety tongue. He stared up at the ceiling, not daring to glance at the glossy, cinnamon-colored hair fanned over his ridged abs. Not daring to watch the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on—and for a rodeo god that was saying something—deliver a world-class blowjob.

She knew what she was doing. And he was loving every minute of it.

The magma flowed hotter, brighter. His breathing escalated. His hips jerked.

“Fuck,” he muttered, unable to keep himself in check. To keep up the illusion of power he was supposed to hold over her. They both knew that was bullshit. Sure, he had something she desperately wanted and he wouldn’t allow her to possess it for all the tea in China. Yet she’d still managed to get her hooks in him, sway him to the dark side of lust when they’d been dancing the previous evening and that sexy body of hers had been rubbing up against him and she’d all but purred in his ear about how horny she was for him. Knowing she was making him hard. Damn hard.

At that point, resistance had been futile.

It rankled that he’d had no defense against the breathtaking, bottomless-wallet prima donna who wanted the land he’d just returned to Wildfire to claim.

It was all coming back to him now, at such an inopportune time, when she was about to launch him into the stratosphere with her pumping and sucking.

Pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The honky-tonk this crappy-ass motel shared a gravel parking lot with. The shots of tequila. The dancing—again, the feel of her voluptuous body pressed to his, grinding provocatively, making every nerve ending flame. The inviting smile the redhead bestowed upon him. Only him.

Shit. He’d nearly tripped all over himself two-stepping with her, she was that striking. That desirable.

That dangerous.

Yeah, Chase Maverick was a sucker for danger.

And was about to come for what? The fourth or fifth time since he’d handed over his credit card at the front desk—paying extra for a corner unit with no neighbors—and they’d all but fallen through the door and into bed.

Even the booze hadn’t hindered his performance. He’d fucked her hard and fast.

She’d begged for more.

Now, he was the one at her mercy.

Because he was close to erupting and that was precisely what she wanted. What he wanted, too. Stupid, risky endeavor though it was.

Some women were capable of bending the steeliest of resolves. She was their queen.

“Just like that, darlin’,” he said on a low growl. “Take me deep. Suck me hard.”

She did as instructed. The pressure built in his gut and his groin.

Her fingers squeezed him at the root. Her other hand slid along his sac to massage his balls, a bit aggressively, and yet…damn it felt good. So unbelievably good.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Work me just like that.”

His jaw clenched. His abs compressed. His mind went blank and his eyes shut.

All he could focus on was the ultimate pleasure taunting him to give into it.

The temptress who had seduced him with tequila, sparkling emerald irises and legs that didn’t quit sent him soaring so high that Chase had no choice but to release the tether and let the orgasm tear through him.

He lost it completely, succumbing fully to her.

“Yes!” he called out. “Oh, fuck. Lacey!”

The pounding of his heart and the throbbing between his legs were relentless. His pulse echoed in his ears. His breaths came in strained pulls of air, his chest heaving.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Lacey Carrington would be his downfall. He could feel it straight to his core. Because each time with her, he came harder than he had with any other woman. And only wanted more of her.

Like some junkie who’d discovered the ultimate drug—and it turned out to be worse than a cowboy’s rodeo obsession. This addiction came in a seriously sensuous package he suddenly couldn’t get enough of.

Chase cracked an eye open and found her swiping the tip of her index finger along the corner of her mouth. Then she licked her lips. As though he was a decadent dessert she’d just devoured.

“Pretty damn pleased with yourself, aren’t ya, darlin’?” he asked in a rumbling voice.

Lacey flashed a Cheshire cat grin. “You are sinfully delicious, Chase Maverick.”

Ha. So he’d pegged her expression. At least he knew she was no more immune to him than he was her. Not that that helped their plight any.

Despite the tension over the land they both wanted, there was no denying the sexual chemistry between them. It’d crackled like lightning from the first moment they’d met. That had been in Tanner Wilks’s law office for the reading of Ben Olsson’s last will and testament. The legal terms had stated quite clearly that Chase got first dibs on buying Ben’s ranch, the proceeds going to Ben’s grown children, none of whom were inclined to retain the property as part of their estate. There was way too much upkeep for the three siblings who’d become city slickers; and none of them gave much thought to Wildfire these days.

Chase had loved the ranch since childhood. He’d helped old Ben after school and on the weekends, baling hay, spreading feed for the cattle, mending fences. Chase had needed an outlet for his excessive energy and raging testosterone, and the hearty work had not only helped him to channel teenage angst, but also resulted in a strong body and level head that had served him well on the rodeo circuit.

Some of his reason for wanting the ranch now was related to nostalgia. Mostly, though, it’d been a haven after his parents’ deaths.

Not to mention, it was one of the most beautiful slices of America he’d ever seen, with rolling hills, tall trees, streams and ponds, wildflowers and endless acres of green pastures. Also, he thought it was a damn shame that Ben had worked so hard to secure a legacy for a family that had already sold off the herd and was greedily divvying up the equity on the house before they’d even closed escrow.

Chase had no legacy of his own to speak of, so it just seemed natural that he start building one on that particular piece of land.

The Beverly Hills beauty queen who’d just gotten him off had expressed interest in the property as well. Lacey Carrington had even offered to double-down on the asking price. But Chase had first right of refusal—and had decided to pay up, even if the costly acreage nearly drained his finances.

Breaking into his thoughts, Lacey said, “I don’t see a coffeemaker in here, do you?”

“No, I do not. It’s not that kind of a motel room, darlin’.”

With a charming snicker, she crawled off the mattress and sauntered across the miniscule space to the bathroom, snagging her silver-and-black snakeskin clutch along the way. He admired the view. A few seconds later, he heard the shower run. Chase gave her a little time. When the water shut off, he slipped from the bed and followed her, grabbing up his jeans. He dropped them on the lid of the toilet before reaching for the miniature bottle of mouthwash. She’d left him a half-portion and he swilled it. Lacey jumped out of the way so he could spit into the sink.

“Thanks for not dribbling on my toes,” she mocked in a flirty tone.

Chase chuckled. Then he stepped under the hot spray while she blew her hair dry with the tiny wall-mounted device. He would have joined her during her shower and lathered her up, but that would have led to him fucking her.

And he was trying not to do that again…

Last night—and this morning—was a huge mistake. Sleeping with the enemy was never a good idea. Definitely a way to end up losing everything, if he wasn’t careful.

As it was, he worried the Olsson offspring were conspiring against him, trying to find a loophole in the will or some other way to contest Chase getting exclusive bidding rights when there was another buyer ready, willing and able to hand over twice as much, in cash.

Chase had a hefty nest egg from his successful career, but Christ. He wondered how much Lacey Carrington was worth that she could make such a bold offer. Then figured he really didn’t want to know. Their little drunken rendezvous was a one-shot deal to get each other out of their systems. A sizzling romp never to be repeated.

He cranked the nozzle to the off position and reached for a towel. He dragged the worn material over his torso, thinking he felt damn good after the physical exertion of getting tangled in the sheets with Lacey, regardless of it being a serious hormonal and mental slip up.

She was quite the hellcat, and the truth was, Chase had been in need of hooking up with someone as assertive as he was in the bedroom in order to slake his lust, which had been simmering below the surface for far too long. He’d needed the powerful releases she’d incited.

Too many times, Chase had bypassed the buckle bunnies looking to add a famous rodeo name to the notches on their bedposts, and had instead given into the pretty little things that followed him around the circuit with doe-eyes and shy smiles. He’d thought them playing coy, but it’d never really been an act. They’d always left him feeling like he was too damn old at twenty-eight to be teaching a woman how to please a man—and how to let him pleasure her in return.

Lacey Carrington was no such dainty flower. She was the stuff erotic fantasies were made of and perfectly suited for fulfilling dark desires. Completely uninhibited. In fact, there was only one thing she’d deemed off limits.

Chase’s gaze dropped to her tight ass. She stood in front of the mirror that hung above the single-sink vanity, applying lip gloss. She was naked, not even bothering to wrap a towel around her. He considered stealing behind her and coaxing her to let him have that one thing he wanted the most.

But he quickly realized he’d take her any way he could get her.

All bad and wrong.

Yet he tossed the towel into the tub and narrowed the gap between them. His gaze caught hers in the reflective surface. Her sculpted eyebrow arched with curiosity.

She was a real stunner. Honeyed skin. High cheekbones. A perfectly straight nose. Pearl-white teeth. And those shimmering, seemingly multi-faceted green eyes that were so damn expressive. Downright electrifying, even.

Then there was her body…A strangled sound lodged in his throat as he absorbed the sight of her. Her breasts were just right—enough to fill his large palms—with dusky-rose nipples that puckered at his close proximity and his unabashed visual assessment of her.

Her belly was slightly rounded, as were her hips. Feminine curves he’d enjoyed exploring. Her long legs were tanned and toned. For chrissakes, even her feet were sexy, with toenails painted siren-red.

Unable to stop himself, he rested his hands at the dip in her waist and inhaled the scent of her hair. It was the cheap motel shampoo, not the usual upscale variety she sold in her beauty shop in town, but it didn’t matter. Because he could smell her.

His hands slid around her waist and up her ribcage to cup her breasts. Her eyes deepened in color. Heat flared in them.

“Hands off, cowboy,” she warned. “Or I’ll be late to the boutique. As it is, I have to pop into my apartment to change my clothes.”

He gave a not so gentle squeeze, jolting her. Then his thumbs whisked slowly over her nipples, back and forth, tightening them into little points.

“Chase,” she said on a breathy sigh, her body instantly relaxing, becoming malleable under his touch.

“I’d be remiss, darlin’,” he whispered against her neck, “if I didn’t return this morning’s favor.”

She smiled mischievously. “Who said that was for you? I couldn’t resist. You were lying there bare-chested in sheets we’d rumpled together—a very sexy sight. All those hard muscles…that beautiful cock. And you snoring lightly, so that you couldn’t say anything to piss me off. It was too inviting to pass up.”

“You have a very sassy mouth.”

“You like what I do with this mouth.”

He released her breasts, clasped her upper arm and turned her to him. He hauled her up against him and his mouth crashed over hers.

His hand shifted and his fingers threaded her hair. His other arm snaked around to the small of her back and he held her to him, her chest pressing to his, their bodies melding together. She clutched his biceps, and he felt the tremors run through her.

Primal urges clawed at him, the way she’d clawed at him earlier. And last night.

He broke the kiss. “You make me so damn hot.” His hand moved from her back to her ass. He gripped a cheek and held her even more firmly to him. “Feel how hot I am for you.”

Her breathing was as labored as his. Excitement radiated from her.

“You know what I want,” he told her in a gruff voice, his need to possess her mounting within him. An unfamiliar, yet all-consuming compulsion. Something about Lacey Carrington made him want to own her like no other man ever had. To hell with all the warning signals going off in his head, telling him he was digging a bigger hole for himself with this woman.

She said, “We both have something the other wants. I don’t see you making any concessions.”

He kissed her again. Then he spun her around and bent her over the scarred laminate countertop. He reached for his jeans and retrieved his last condom. They’d exhausted the supply he’d collected from the machine in the saloon bathroom—but they still had the one in his wallet. Ripping the foil with his teeth, he deftly rolled the latex down his erection.

“Don’t you dare, Chase Maverick.” Lacey’s voice held a hint of panic.

“Don’t worry, queenie,” he told her. “I’m not going to do anything against your will. But you do want me to fuck you again, don’t you?”

He nudged her legs apart with his foot between hers. She widened her stance for him, giving him her answer. From behind, his fingers glided over her dewy lips.

“You’re already wet for me,” he murmured. “I like a woman whose body trembles at my touch. Who doesn’t fight her arousal. Even when it’s ignited by a man she publicly despises.”

“I never once said I despise you, Chase. I said you’re an arrogant fuck who won’t even let me buy the ranch once you’ve acquired it. You’d make a mint on a quick and effortless flip.”

“That land actually means something to me. I’ve worked it—and now it’ll belong to me.” He slid a finger into her pussy and she gasped. “You are damn tight, darlin’. So fucking tight.” His other hand slipped around to her front and he rubbed her clit with the pads of two fingers, quick and aggressive. The way he knew she liked it.

A throaty moan fell from her lips. Her eyelids seemed to grow heavy. She panted softly as he stroked her inner walls until she was dripping. Then he eased a second finger in and pumped heartily.

“Jesus, Chase.” Her sharp whimpers filled the quiet room. Her back bowed. Her fingers curled into fists as her forearms rested on the vanity, holding her up.

“Come for me, Lace,” he coaxed in a low tone. “Come all over my fingers.”

He found that particularly sensitive spot deep within her and homed in on it, caressing with fervor and purpose.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Right there, Chase.”

He kept at it, massaging her clit as he continued to stroke. His jaw clenched. More adrenaline flooded his veins. He’d never been so determined to set a woman off until he’d met this one. He had no idea what it was about her that made him feel the need to prove his prowess—and make her cry out his name. But, clearly, she had him half out of his mind with all these new, incessantly demanding cravings.

“Oh, God, yes,” she said. “I’m going to come.”

Her body tensed. Then shuddered. “Oh. God!” Her inner muscles contracted around his fingers as the climax took her. “Chase!” She lost her breath for several seconds.

He didn’t let up, prolonging her orgasm. Allowing her to savor it.

Eventually, she drew in a steadier stream of air and whispered, “That is sensational.”

“It gets better,” he said in a strained tone. He was suddenly desperate to be buried inside her.

Chase withdrew his fingers.

“It is so unfortunate that I want you,” she lamented.

“Feelin’s mutual. But at least we know we’re not lying to ourselves about it—or each other.” He guided his tip to her opening. “Are you ready for me?”

Her hands unfurled and her palms flattened against the top of the vanity, as though to stabilize herself. “I want to feel you, Chase. Now.”

He gripped her hips and pressed in, gently.

“Chase Maverick,” she hissed. “Do not tease me. Fuck me.”

Christ, she really was a hellcat. Problem was, he already knew how incredible it felt to plunge into her warm depths and have her milk his cock until he exploded. Just thinking about it pushed him to the edge of sanity—and it’d take very little effort on her part to send him over.

The bottom line, though, was that he had to have her. There was no escape from this reckless desire.

He thrust fiercely and she screamed in ecstasy. A blinding passion overcame him. Chase pumped into her. She spread her legs wider and lifted her ass higher, her spine arching further, her head back on her shoulders.

“Yes,” she encouraged. “That’s it, Chase. Fuck me hard.”

“You feel so damn good,” he ground out. “So goddamn good.”

The pads of his fingers were still on her clit as he drove into her, making her moan. Chase leaned over her, propping himself on a forearm next to hers. His strokes shortened and his pace hastened, his hips bucking.

“Make me come again,” she breathlessly pleaded.

“Yes,” he muttered against her hair. His face burrowed in the crook of her neck. Every little piece of him was holding on for dear life as he tried to keep it together, when all he really wanted to do was let the scorching sensations incinerate him.

His chest was pressed to her back and her satiny skin inflamed his senses as much as the scent of her did. The feel of her body shivering with pleasure. Her inner walls squeezing and releasing his cock…

“Such a sweet pussy,” he whispered. “So wet and warm. Filled and stretched by me.”

She clutched him tighter.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Like that. Come with me, sweetheart. You make me lose it so fast. Come now, Lace. Right now.”

She held him in a vise grip as she stilled. And then she shattered all around him, quaking and calling out his name.

The heat and pressure inside of Chase burst wide open. “Fuck, yes!” He pushed deep, came hard. Rode the fiery waves as they crashed over him, stealing cogent thought as well as his breath.

This was too fucking incredible. More than was sane or safe to his psyche and his future.

But damn, he loved the rush she gave him. Over and over.

Even if it did leave him with the niggling suspicion he might not ever get his fill of Lacey Carrington.

Wouldn’t that jack his program to high heaven?