Raw Redemption Page 19

  “Goddammit, Ailish.” Henrik stepped closer to the lounge chair. “Stop this. They’re downstairs now, but they could come looking for me.”

  Fingers playing around the edge of her bikini bottoms, Ailish trapped a moan at the bright gold brilliance of tempting a man. This man. Being angry or disappointed in him didn’t remove the need. He’d purchased property in the circle of her desire and couldn’t be evicted. But she could harness the lust, direct it where she chose, and regain some of the power that place took away.

  And yes, yes, she wanted Henrik to break. Wanted his hands on her body, even for just a few stolen seconds. It was no use denying it. Henrik’s touch had gone from craving to requirement. And she wouldn’t consider that a weakness, as long as Henrik had the same requisite need for her. His shallow breathing and barely audible groans as she toyed with the scant material of her bottoms was proof enough. “If they come looking for you, they won’t be surprised to find me being bad. As long as you don’t give in, you’re not breaking any rules.”

  His shin bumped the chair. “I’ve been inside you. I know you treat my cock like your own private fuck toy. So not breaking the rules is going to be a lot harder for me than any of these pathetic motherfuckers.”

  A flush blasted over Ailish’s skin, head to toe. “It’s a good thing I left the necklace in my room.”

  “It’s not a good thing,” he growled. “You should have it on you at all times.”

  Undeterred by the reprimand, Ailish trailed her fingers up her rib cage and slipped them beneath the barrier of her bikini top. Her skin was still wet from the pool, making her breasts slick as she cupped them, massaging in a slow rhythm. “Feels so good. I haven’t touched myself since the cabin.”

  “When?” Henrik asked hoarsely. “Tell me exactly when it was, damn me for asking.”

  Victory collided with lust and streaked through her middle. “The morning you left. Right afterward, when I was still—”

  “Still what?”

  She peeled back her top, allowing her breasts to pop free. Then she walked her fingers down, past her belly button, to tease the material of her bottoms. “I was still so wet,” Ailish breathed. “I moaned your name into a towel while Erin and Connor were right outside.”

  “Enough.” He dropped a knee onto the chair, making it creak and undermining his command. He’s so huge. His body blocked out everything but the wild, spinning desire for him to crack. To drop his weight down onto her and admit defeat. “You don’t have a fucking clue what you look like, laid out all wet and naked, do you? Tits bouncing around. Those bottoms so wet, I can see the slit between your thighs.” He raked a hand over his open mouth, all while perusing her body with sexual intent. “If we were anywhere else, I wouldn’t be acting right, Ailish. I’d have a hand slapped over your mouth and I’d be using you up without a hint of gentle. You understand?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, tossing her head back on the chair. His words were rough, but she was hugely turned on by the image they conjured. Henrik covering her mouth while pumping out his frustration between her splayed legs. Hard. Maybe even enough to make her scream against his palm. “I understand.”

  When she attempted to slide her fingers beneath the low waistband of her bottoms, Henrik snagged her wrist. “No,” he grated. “I know you’re angry. I see that.” His gaze strayed to the wet teal triangle covering her private flesh. “But you’re going too far. I’m fucked up, okay? Knowing you hate me only makes me want to fuck you more. Fuck you harder. Makes me want to win your body back, right here and now. You’d like that, huh? If I gave you my cock hard enough to bust this chair?”

  Unable to draw a decent supply of oxygen, Ailish only nodded.

  Henrik released a low string of curses, before crouching down…and leaning in. His mouth hovered above her belly button, releasing hot puffs of air, creating goose bumps on every inch of her damp body. His lips opened, tongue licking out to stroke a devastating circle around her belly button—and the voices in the house grew louder. Closer. Henrik’s body tensed, but neither of them moved. Until footsteps could be heard in the distance, treading over the tile floor of the kitchen, which led out into the pool area.

  ...

  “Shit,” Henrik grated, tearing himself away from the slick temptation of Ailish’s body and rising to his full height. “Put your top back on.”

  Thankfully, Ailish didn’t need to be told. She was already replacing the triangles over her breasts and tightening the knot at her nape. It was unfortunate that Henrik couldn’t hide the evidence of their dangerous foreplay quite so easily, however. His cock was solid and ready, shoved up against the zipper of his jeans. God, if the men hadn’t returned from downstairs, would he be fucking her right now? Out in the open where anyone could see them?

  Yeah. He would. Logic was sorely lacking in anything involving Ailish. Even now, when they were seconds from having company in the pool area, he wanted to strip the bathing suit bottoms off of her and get a few thorough licks of her pussy. Just to get the taste in his mouth. Maybe he could even accomplish it before the men came outside.

  You’re a sick man. Yes, he was growing more ill with every passing moment he couldn’t have her. She was the sickness and the elixir.

  Henrik closed his eyes and focused on breathing deeply. If anything could loosen the hold of arousal, it was replaying the conversation he’d heard take place among the men inside. Just before coming out to find Ailish. To say they were antagonistic toward their boss’s daughter was an understatement. They resented her for having what they considered a cushy lifestyle and squandering it. Wanting to better herself. She thinks she’s so much better than us, huh? Too good for this life? I’ll show her the only thing she’s good for.

  Yeah, that was all it took for rage to filter in. “Get up,” Henrik growled, just as they men stepped outside. The sounds of lighters flickering echoed off the walls, accompanied by small flashes of flame. He saw those flames in Ailish’s eyes, which was pretty appropriate, considering her temper had visibly risen with his command.

  “I’ll come in when I’m ready,” she gritted out.

  Aware that the men were watching, Henrik gripped her elbow and tugged Ailish onto her feet. “You have work to do.”

  He reached behind her to retrieve the towel, holding it out to her, but she refused to take it. Instead, her face transformed with a smirk and she sauntered past him. In nothing but the barely-there bathing suit, she strolled past the group of men, her footfalls the only sound to be heard. Henrik followed closely behind her, giving the group a conspiratorial headshake.

  Not that any of them were looking at him.

  It didn’t matter that Ailish was playing a part. Flaunting herself in a way that brought men to their proverbial knees, the way she’d once done as daughter of the house. It didn’t matter that he understood why she’d chosen to act out in such a way. No, none of it mattered when men who’d so crudely discussed Ailish’s body before were now all but drooling as she passed. And he wanted to swing his fists until they were in a fucking pile on the ground.

  “Back to work, little girl,” one of them taunted.

  Another one leaned close as Ailish passed, entering the house through the sliding glass door. “Make Daddy proud.”

  Henrik ground his molars together—hard—shoving his right fist into his jeans pocket so he wouldn’t snap and use it. How much of this could he reasonably take? And this was just another sign that they’d lost respect for their boss. They’d never spoken directly to her before, according to Ailish, meaning there’d been a rapid shift in their behavior. God, he needed to get her out soon. Tomorrow night. Just have to make it to tomorrow night.

  Following Ailish down the hallway toward her bedroom, Henrik tried to rein in the jealousy that made his blood boil. Mine. Mine. His brain repeated the word in time with her soft footsteps. A primitive beat played, beginning in the recesses of his chest, booming louder. Louder. When Ailish reached the door, she turned to meet his gaze, her
lips parting on an intake of breath, obviously witnessing the results of what took place in his head. Too bad she was still pissed at him. It was there in the stubborn set of her jaw, the jerky way she opened the door.

  “Coming?” she whispered, pausing with a hand on the jamb. God, that bikini was riding a little too low for his peace of mind. Any lower and the top of her slit would show. Had she tugged it down while they were walking?

  “You know I can’t,” he rasped.

  Henrik watched in slow motion as Ailish dipped a finger into the front of her bathing suit bottoms and slid it back and forth, tugging them down farther with every sensual journey. “Just to the closet?”

  He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t take just a few minutes with her, could he? The men were drunk off their faces downstairs. He could still hear their shouting and laughter from outside, the scraping of metal chairs telling him they weren’t coming back inside any time soon. Stop trying to justify it. “Get inside and lock the door,” Henrik said, adjusting his erection with a muffled groan.

  Ailish was breathing too fast, her cheeks bright pink. She was enjoying his torture, but there was apology in her eyes, too. His girl had a kink, and he was the target. Not something to be sorry about, but she’d chosen a damned inconvenient time to play. Jealousy had done something funny to him. Made him want to be aggressive with her, even more than usual. Made him want to claim her in rough fucking fashion.

  Common sense had Henrik moving backward down the hall, but he’d only taken a few steps when Ailish peeled off her bathing suit bottoms and tossed them into the dark bedroom. She turned slightly in the doorway, just enough to give him a view of her ass, before slipping into the room. “Suit yourself.”

  Need choked Henrik, propelled him forward. Into the room. He had blinders on, couldn’t see right or left, only straight ahead. The closet was pitch black when he entered, closing the door behind him with as much ease as he could muster. “Where are you?” he grated. “Ailish.”

  “Here.”

  Just a breath away. His hands lifted, running over the curve of her hips, higher to strip off the bikini top. Soft. So smooth and soft. She moaned as Henrik spun her around until she faced away. “What do you want all this teasing to lead to, huh, baby? What are you hoping I’ll do?” Henrik held his hips away from the temptation of Ailish’s ass, otherwise he’d never be able to walk out of there. Not without feeling the tight stroke of her inner walls along the ridges of his cock. Not without listening to her beg. So instead of fitting her against his lap, Henrik rubbed his palm in circles on her backside. “Answer me.”

  “I’m not sure,” she said on a shudder. A hand closed around Henrik’s heart, a symptom of the honesty in her voice. She was pushing that sweet ass into his hand, going up on tiptoes to accomplish it, and he battled between the urge to continue on his quest to fulfill a need he sensed in Ailish—and turning her around, holding her until their pulses steadied. “I just want you to need me. So bad that you can’t stop yourself from…taking.”

  He pressed his face into her hair. “I passed need weeks ago. Need is just a word. I am my starvation for you, Ailish. It rules me.”

  Her breath released in an excited rush. “Show me what it does to you.”

  Like a red flag being waved at a bull, Henrik gripped her ass cheek so tight, she gasped. “It makes me want to discipline you for teasing me.” Letting go of her taut flesh, he pulled Ailish’s hair to one side so he could speak directly against her ear. “That’s what you’ve been asking me for, isn’t it? You haven’t been naughty for the sake of being naughty. You want repercussions.”

  “I-I don’t know. I’ve never—”

  “Hands on the wall, cock tease,” Henrik ordered, tugging on the strands of red hair he’d snagged with deft fingers. The sound of her whimper was accompanied by clothes being shoved aside, hangers squeaking on the rack, the barely audible thud of her hands connecting with the wall. “We’re going to find out, aren’t we? See if you flashed that ass at me for a reason.”

  “Yes.”

  Muscle memory kicking in, Henrik inserted his boot in between Ailish’s bare feet and shoved her legs apart. “I wish like hell the lights were on so I could see you spread.” He stroked a hand down her spine, around her hip, and up her rib cage. Back down and around. Over and over. “Those nipples hard, baby? Tell me.”

  He sensed her nodding a second before she whispered, “Y-yes.”

  “Good. I want to think about them bouncing when I spank you. Want to think about your pussy giving a little shake from the impact, too.”

  Ailish began to pant. “You’re going to spank me?”

  “Until you’re dripping down the insides of your legs.”

  Henrik angled his body to the side, reared his hand back, and slapped the flesh he’d been in need of touching to the point of pain. His cock reacted to the cracking sound, filling and expanding in his boxer briefs. Jesus. Christ. He’d never spanked a woman before. Had never thought he’d find it appealing. Or maybe it was only an activity that could be pleasurable with Ailish, because—fuck—he loved the image in his head. Ailish in a frisking position against the wall, being punished by his hand. But his concern began to mount when Ailish remained silent, after her initial gasp.

  “Baby.” He smoothed his hand over the place he’d landed the light blow, tending the supple flesh with an up-and-down rub. “You want some more?”

  She tilted her hips, arched her back. “More.”

  Henrik held tight to his grip on the lust when it tried to run rampant. This was why he shouldn’t have followed her inside. How was he going to walk out in a matter of minutes? How? He swung his hand in an upward slap, glancing off her left ass cheek. Harder than the first time, due in part to his frustration. He could hear Ailish’s fingernails scratching on the wall as he delivered another smack. Another. “No more teasing while we’re inside this house. No more.” Smack. “I can’t fight two wars at once.”

  “Fine,” she sobbed. “No more teasing.”

  His relief only made a brief appearance before he shot back toward blanketing desire. “When we get out, you can make me miserable all you want. When putting my cock in your pretty body won’t get us both killed.”

  The next spank was firm and brooked no dissent. Ailish’s low moan had Henrik running a hand up the inside of her thigh and finding dampness. She tried to slide her legs back together with a sound of protest, but he kept them spread. The muscles of her backside flexed in his hand, an annoyed sound coming from her mouth. A solution occurred to him in that moment. An undesirable one, but a solution he sorely required. The only way he would make it out of Ailish’s room without giving in to the endless need to be inside her was to make her angry. Or keep her angry, rather. Shit, he didn’t want to do it. Having her mad and disappointed in him was like being strangled with fishing wire. Pushing her further away would be a hundred times worse. Still.

  Think beyond the moment. This closet.

  “Remember what I told you in the cabin, Ailish?”

  When her answer emerged slurred, Henrik wanted to slam his head against the wall. She needed him. She needed him, and he had to leave. “W-which…what thing?”

  He gave her one final glance of his palm, which shot her into a tiptoe position with a soft yelp. “You’re not the only one who can tease,” Henrik breathed in her ear before forcing himself to step back. Away from the warm, pliant perfection of her body, positioned as she was for a dirty, hot fuck.

  “Get out,” came her voice in the darkness. When he made it to the bedroom door, he refused to let himself acknowledge the tears in her voice. If he acknowledged them, he would go mad. Would never escape the need to hold her. Make everything better.

  “Lock the door behind me and stay put,” Henrik commanded, even though there was little point in directing her. Not when the only way he would leave his position outside her door was in a body bag.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Father and daughter stared each other down
across the dining room table. Caine was an early riser, so Ailish had thought it safe to venture downstairs for something to eat, but he’d surprised her by walking out of the kitchen just as she entered. Whistling. Looking far less on edge than he had the prior afternoon, but just as mean. His good morning, daughter, had been nothing short of mocking. The old Ailish would have grabbed a bowl of raisin bran and scurried back upstairs. She wasn’t going to retreat, however, so there they sat. Waiting for the other to speak or eat or move first. Perhaps it shouldn’t have felt so unexpectedly exhilarating.

  Oh, but it did. She’d finally succeeded in getting away the last time. And even though Caine didn’t know she was back home of her own volition, she did.

  I’m not your weak-willed lackey anymore.

  Yes, she certainly hadn’t anticipated breaking bread with her father ever again. Nor had she expected to find Henrik standing sentry outside her bedroom door upon exiting. The sight of him had brought her up short in the doorway, heart leaping, body crying out to make contact with his sturdy, reassuring form. She had just spent half an hour beneath the shower spray, wincing as the hot water cascaded down the raw flesh on her bottom. Loving it. Loving the knowledge that he’d been pushed far enough to inflict the delicious kind of pain. Hating what had come after. Would he apologize? Would he whisper that he missed her? But he’d only looked at her head to toe, his gaze full of meaning she couldn’t interpret¸ then turned and disappeared around the corner of the hall, the outline of a gun at the small of his back.

  Ailish had been out of line last night. She could admit that. In the light of day, she saw her behavior for what it was. A desperate attempt to recapture her sanity. Her independence and control. The darkness of night and the racy new desires Henrik had coaxed to life had made her reckless. Letting go of her anger toward Henrik’s high-handed betrayal wasn’t an option, not when it felt so imperative she remain true to her decisions, hard as they were to keep. They were all she had. And this case deserved her full attention. Communicating with Derek was first on her to-do list. And while they’d planned on Henrik being the one to leave the house to make contact, she felt the pressing need to take initiative. To be useful.